Vanishing Girls

by Lisa Regan

  “But the chief said no one except—”

  “It’s already been processed, hasn’t it?”

  “Well, yeah, but I still have to keep a log of everyone who comes in and out,” he said.

  “You don’t even have to put me on the log. It will be like I was never here.”

  “But the point of the log is so we know who was on the scene and when.”

  She tried another tack. “Officer Fraley, am I or am I not your superior?”

  He shifted uncomfortably, looking away from her. “But you’re not, you’re—you’re on suspension.”

  “You don’t think the chief will call me back soon? I know you guys are running on empty. He’s got everyone on around the clock, doesn’t he?”

  Noah nodded. He let out a long breath. “It’s been awful,” he admitted.

  “And now with this shooting…” she added.

  He met her eyes again. “I, uh, heard you were there. Glad you’re okay, by the way.”

  “Me too,” she said. She was close enough to smell the stale scent of old sweat. He probably hadn’t been home to shower or change for a good three days. “Noah,” she tried again. “The chief is going to call me back any minute now. Ray told me so. When he does I’m going to need to be up to speed. You don’t have to tell anyone I was here, and I don’t have to tell anyone that you fell asleep at your post.”

  He closed his eyes, resignation and shame warring for dominance on his face. “Please, just be quick, okay?”

  She patted his shoulder and half-ran, half-hobbled off toward the woods before he could change his mind.

  “Don’t leave your car here!” he shouted after her.

  He was right. If someone from the department came while she was in the woods, there was no way he could explain away her vehicle. Of course, there weren’t many places she could leave her car without giving away the fact that she was nosing around the Coleman scene. She couldn’t park up near the house, so the best she could do was park along the shoulder of the main road about a half mile back. Anyone coming from town to the Coleman home would not pass her vehicle. If someone showed up while she was at the abduction scene, she could always find her way back to her car through the woods and take off with no one the wiser. She just had to hope no one on the force decided to pass the Coleman home and head toward Dirk Spencer’s development while she was at the scene.

  By the time she got to the Colemans’ mailbox she was sweating pretty heavily, and the left side of her body had gone from a dull ache to an angry throb. She took off her jacket and tied it around her waist. As she passed the mailbox, she saw something bright and pink in the grass a few feet from it. A closer inspection revealed an acrylic nail: hot pink with yellow stripes. She snapped a few pictures of it with her phone before picking it up with a tissue and putting it in her pocket.

  She knew the woods around the Colemans’ home had been searched extensively. They would have come to the edge of the road. They probably had even gone a few miles into the woods on the other side of the road, across from the mailbox. She was sure this nail would have been seen by someone already. It should have been taken into evidence, at least until they could determine whether or not it belonged to Isabelle. Unless it was from one of the searchers, which was entirely possible. Or perhaps Mrs. Coleman had stopped for the mail and lost it. Josie sighed as she trudged up the long driveway. This was the sort of thing that drove her crazy. There was no way to know whether or not it was important. If she hadn’t had to give up her badge, she would go right to Mrs. Coleman with it and ask if she recognized it. But she wasn’t a cop right now.

  She nodded at Noah as she stepped gingerly behind the crime scene tape. More yellow tape tied from tree to tree formed a narrow path that led to the clearing. The ground was covered with mud, decomposing leaves, and snapped-off tree branches. She estimated the scene was about forty feet from the side of the driveway. It was just a small clearing with a large stone to one side. There was nothing to it, really. All the evidence had been processed and removed.

  Josie spun in a slow circle, taking in the scene.

  “What the hell was she doing out here?” she muttered to herself.

  There was nothing remarkable about the clearing at all. It was like a thousand other clearings in the Pennsylvania woods surrounding Denton and its neighboring towns. It wasn’t even necessarily a clearing so much as a slightly larger gap between trees. What had Isabelle been doing this deep in the woods? As Josie picked her way back toward the road, she wondered if the girl had been on the driveway and had run into the woods when she realized she was being pursued. Or perhaps there had been a struggle and she had escaped into the trees.

  Josie didn’t have enough information. All she knew was what she could glean from Trinity Payne’s news reports. As far as anyone knew, Isabelle had been home alone when she disappeared. Nothing in her home was disturbed, and her cell phone had been missing.

  At the driveway Josie waved a thank you at Noah, who looked considerably relieved to see her go. On the way back to her car, she fingered the wad of tissue holding the acrylic nail and wondered when the chief was going to call her to come back to work.

  Chapter Eight

  It took two slow circles through downtown Denton for Josie to find the restaurant she was looking for. Sandman’s Bar and Grill. She and Luke had eaten there once; it was one of the first places they had gone publicly. The inside was just as she remembered it—and just as it had appeared in the photo on Dirk Spencer’s fridge. It was dimly lit, with a long bar, its wood lacquered and shiny, taking up one wall. Across from it were two dozen tables for two, some of which had been pushed together for parties of four or more. The walls were red brick adorned with signs for beer that had long since been discontinued. Falstaff, Meister Brau, Rheingold.

  It was after lunch but before happy hour, and the place only had a few patrons. Josie limped up to the bar, her leg pulsating steadily with pain in time with the ache in her back. She needed more ibuprofen. The bartender was young, probably just twenty-one, and his attention was riveted to one of the large televisions hanging on the wall behind the bar. It showed Trinity Payne—Josie couldn’t escape the woman—this time in front of the Stop and Go. There was no sound, but the bartender watched with intense concentration. Josie wondered if he was more interested in the shooting or Trinity.

  The sound of her dragging her stool closer to the bar drew his attention. He gave her a fake, practiced smile and asked what he could get her. She was going to say nothing, but the pain in her body was getting so bad a shot of something sounded perfect right about then. “Two shots of Wild Turkey,” she said.

  He looked behind her and then toward the door.

  She smiled tightly. “They’re both for me. It’s been a long day.”

  His smile faltered for a moment but he recovered quickly. “No problem.”

  She waited until he had returned with the shot glasses and liquor before she asked, “Do you guys have anyone working here named Ramona? A waitress?”

  There was no recognition. His pasted-on smile gave way to genuine confusion. “No one by that name,” he said. “What’s she look like?”

  Josie pulled out her cell phone, located the photo she’d taken of Dirk Spencer and his ex-girlfriend, zoomed in on the woman and showed him.

  “Oh, that’s Solange,” he said easily. “She’s on tonight. Should be here in about a half hour if you want to wait. I can—” he stopped speaking abruptly, as if just realizing that maybe he shouldn’t be giving out so much information without knowing who Josie was or what she wanted.

  “Don’t worry. I’m a police officer,” Josie offered. “But that’s not really why I’m here. I’m off duty. She’s not in any trouble, I just need to talk to her about something.”

  He looked doubtful, and she prayed he wouldn’t ask for her credentials. After a moment he shrugged and said, “Okay. Can I get you anything else?”

  She smiled. “Just a soda.”

  As pr
omised, Solange arrived about twenty minutes later, following the bartender from the back and looking concerned. When she saw Josie, she smiled awkwardly. Her hands fidgeted with her green apron as she tied it around her waist. She came around the bar and offered her hand. “Hey, aren’t you the lady cop that was on the news—”

  “Detective Josie Quinn, yes. I’m not working right now.”

  “You’re suspended.”

  “Yes.”

  Solange’s face had closed off, her lips pressed into a straight line. “What is this about?”

  “Do you know anyone named Ramona?”

  No flicker of recognition at all. Solange’s expression didn’t change. “No.”

  Josie sighed. “This morning there was a shooting on the interstate that ended when an Escalade crashed into the Stop and Go.”

  Solange crossed her arms over her chest. “I saw it on the news. What’s it got to do with me?”

  “No one from the police department has been by to speak with you yet?” Josie asked.

  “No, why?”

  “Dirk Spencer was a passenger in the Escalade,” Josie said.

  Solange’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Stumbling backward, she found a stool and half-sat, half-leaned on it. “Oh my God,” she said. “Is he—is he…?”

  “As far as I know he’s still alive,” Josie said. “He was life-flighted to Geisinger Medical Center. From what I understand, his injuries are very serious. I don’t know what your relationship is, or was, but you may want to go see him.”

  The woman gathered her composure, her face closing back down. She smoothed the apron down over her waist and legs. “We haven’t been together for almost two years. We broke up.”

  “There was no answer at Mr. Spencer’s house,” Josie said carefully. “Does he have any other family or anyone we should notify?”

  “I thought you were on suspension,” Solange said pointedly.

  “I am,” Josie admitted. “I’m not here because I’m a police officer. I mean, I am, but I’m not. I’m here because I was there this morning. I was almost killed when that Escalade crashed.” Josie lifted her shirt slightly and turned so Solange could see the bruising already darkening the left side of her body. “Before Mr. Spencer lost consciousness, he said the name ‘Ramona.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

  Solange shook her head. “No. I don’t know anyone by that name. Neither does he. At least, not that I’m aware of. Maybe he met someone since we broke up.”

  The thought didn’t seem to sit well with Solange.

  Josie said, “I’m sure you’re aware that with the Isabelle Coleman abduction, the department is stretched. I recognized Mr. Spencer from the local high school, and since I was there, and the last person he spoke to before he passed out, I thought maybe I’d talk to his next of kin personally.”

  It wasn’t warm in the restaurant, but Solange started fanning herself with one hand. Her eyes looked everywhere but at Josie. “Oh well, he has no next of kin here. He has a sister in Philadelphia, Lara, but they don’t talk much. She’s… she’s always in a lot of trouble, you know, like with the law. He has a niece, June. She was living with him, but she ran away over a year ago and no one’s seen her since.”

  “How old is June?” Josie asked.

  Solange shrugged. “I’m not sure. By now she’s sixteen or seventeen. You’ll never find her though.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Another shrug. “Because Dirk looked. Believe me, he looked. That girl doesn’t want to be found.”

  Chapter Nine

  According to Solange, June Spencer was a troubled girl. With her dad out of the picture, she had lived in Philadelphia with her mother, and by the time she was fifteen she had been expelled from four high schools, arrested a half dozen times, overdosed twice and tried to slit her wrists.

  “Her mother isn’t much better,” Solange said, spreading her hands in a what-do-you-expect gesture. “That woman has been in and out of rehab more times than I can count, and don’t get me started on her criminal record. She might as well have a bench named after her down there in the Criminal Justice Center. It’s no wonder that June is such a hot mess.”

  Josie bristled. She knew a thing or two about moms like that. If Solange was to be believed, she also knew that June had most likely been a helpless victim in all of the chaos: a child with no resources and no one to turn to, a captive audience to her own mother’s destructive lifestyle. Sometimes even an unwilling participant. Josie pushed those thoughts aside and focused on Solange. “How did June end up here?”

  Solange started to roll her eyes and then stopped when she saw the seriousness in Josie’s face. “She was Dirk’s personal crusade. He didn’t want her turning out like his sister. They were both raised by a single mom who died of a heart attack when they were in their twenties so, besides him, June really has no family at all. It took some convincing, but he got his sister to let her come live with him on a trial basis. He wanted to adopt her.”

  “His sister wouldn’t allow it?”

  Solange shook her head. “No. That bitch is nothing if not spiteful. The only reason she even let June come up here was because she had to serve six months for probation violations, and child services told her if she didn’t sign over temporary guardianship to Dirk, June was going into foster care.”

  “How long ago was this?” Josie asked.

  “About two years ago. She had just turned fifteen.”

  “Isn’t that how long you two have been broken up?”

  Solange’s shoulders slumped. The bartender slid a coke across the bar to her, and she gave him a weak smile in return. With a pained look she said, “Yeah. Look, I appreciated that Dirk wanted to save his niece, I really did. But I’m, like, ten years younger than him. I wanted us to settle down, start our own family. That was our plan. Taking on a damaged, rebellious teenage girl was not something we had ever discussed.”

  “So you left?”

  “I tried to stick it out. I figured she would turn eighteen in a few years, and then maybe Dirk and I could start our life together, but I didn’t last that long. Dirk and I kept in touch even after I left; our break was supposed to be temporary, but at some point it became pretty clear that we were moving in different directions. Dirk asked me to keep coming around and be a ‘positive female role model’ for June, so I tried doing things with her now and then. I did my best to try to relate to June, for Dirk’s sake, but she was a closed book.”

  Josie could find out from Ray or Noah if June had ever been arrested in Denton, but she didn’t personally recall any incidents involving the girl. “Did she have trouble when she came here?”

  Solange put her glass back on the bar and swirled the straw around in the brown liquid, making the ice cubes clink. “She wasn’t as bad as we expected. She got in trouble for cutting school, and Dirk caught her smoking weed a few times. She smoked cigarettes. He didn’t like that very much. But mostly she was just very depressed and withdrawn. He had her seeing a therapist twice a week. We never could tell if it helped, or if she even talked to the woman. He was at the high school with her so he kept a close watch on her there, but she never made friends.”

  “How were her grades?” Josie asked.

  “So-so. Passing. Dirk wanted her to join some clubs at school, but she thought they were all lame.” She coughed a laugh. “Actually, what I think she said was, ‘I ain’t joining no dumbass school shit.’ Mostly she was just so depressed. Did you grow up here?”

  “Born and raised,” Josie replied.

  “So, you know then. Unless you’re super popular at school or find some niche there, there is absolutely nothing for a teenager to do around here.”

  It was true. Josie had gotten into some trouble when she was a teen, but it was mostly her mother’s doing. Still, even after her mother left, she remembered being in that strange no man’s land that was pre-adulthood. You weren’t old enough to do anything that was truly interesting to you. It s
eemed like everyone just wanted to get drunk or high, or both, and see what the hell happened. Push the limits. If you didn’t fall into a group at school, you found yourself on the fringe, restless to explore life but unable to actually do anything. There wasn’t much left to do other than get into trouble—especially in a place as small as Denton. Even though it was a city, it still had many of the features and pitfalls of a small town.

  As a teenager, Josie had had few friends. The only person who had ever really understood her was Ray, and when her other friends had mocked her sudden decision to get the hell out of Denton and go to college, he had been the only one to defend her.

  Coming from a city the size of Philadelphia, Josie could see how Denton must have seemed like the most depressing place on earth for a girl like June.

  “Did she keep in touch with her friends in Philly?” Josie asked.

  “At first, yeah, but then Dirk wouldn’t let her go back for visits on the weekends, and one by one they dropped off. After a year, she really had no one. I think she was pretty lonely. Dirk did his best, and like I said, I tried to have some sort of relationship with her because he begged me to, but she was miserable. I wasn’t surprised when she ran away.”

  “Did she go back to Philadelphia?”

  “That’s what Dirk thought, yeah, but no one who knew her ever saw her there. Then Dirk and his sister convinced themselves that someone took her.”

  Josie felt her skin prickle. “Why is that?”

  “Just because they couldn’t find her, I guess. He went to the police here, and then him and his sister went to the police in Philadelphia, but they never found anything.”

  Josie frowned. “This was a year ago?”

  Solange nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t take her phone, but some of her personal things were missing. She had this old, ratty brown messenger bag she dragged around everywhere. We never did find it.”

  Josie would definitely have to get Noah to look her up. “She disappeared from home?”