Mary Catherine snaked her arm around my shoulders and gave me a hug. “It’s certainly nice here, and people are friendly. Maybe too friendly.”
The dig went right over Sandy’s head as she looked me in the eye and said, “It’s time you get that family out of New York. They can always move back when they’re adults if they miss it that much. They should at least have a chance at a normal childhood.”
I said, “I was raised in New York, and my childhood was normal.”
“That’s what every New Yorker says.” She winked at me.
I noticed a young lady slowly making her way across the firehouse yard to a table not far away. She dragged her right foot as she walked, and when she sat down I noticed that the right side of her face seemed to sag slightly.
She sat by herself as various people brought her plates of food and drink.
I asked Sandy who the girl was.
She said, “It’s a little bit of a sad story. Her name is Sadie, and her mom passed away last year.”
Mary Catherine said, “Who takes care of her?”
“The whole town. Technically she lives in a group home, but really she’s as close to homeless as we have here in Linewiler. She likes to be off on her own. No one really knows where she sleeps a lot of the time.”
I watched the teenager as she nodded her thanks to the people who brought her food and drink. She had dark stringy hair but a beautiful smile and a pretty face. I wondered how someone ended up in her situation. Where was her father? I don’t know why, but this young woman intrigued me. She could’ve been one of my daughters. The idea of them being alone and fending for themselves sent a chill through me.
Chapter 45
Later that night, Mary Catherine asked me on another walk around the lake. After what had happened the last time we walked, I couldn’t refuse, no matter how tired I was.
I was still smiling about how much fun the kids had at the cookout. Even Seamus had begun to enjoy himself.
As we walked down the path, with the water on our left, Mary Catherine hooked her arm through mine. She laid her head on my shoulder as we walked and said, “I could definitely get used to life in the country.” After a few more steps, she said, “Maybe not in the winter. I imagine that the snow here comes up to your chin.”
I chuckled and said, “Maybe your chin.”
We sat on the blanket she pulled from her miraculous bag and stared out at the calm water. Once again, I could see the house from where we were and felt relieved that every light was on. At least I knew where the kids were.
We chatted about nothing for a few minutes, then Mary Catherine worked in a bombshell of a question very casually. “I see the way Sandy and you talk and the way she looks at you. Did you guys ever date each other?”
She looked me right in the eye. I’d been hoping that this would never come up. It was really a nonissue. But I answered honestly.
“I don’t know if date is the right word. We had a minor little nothing a thousand years ago. We never took it very far and have never talked about it since.”
“You agree that she’s still beautiful.”
This sounded like a trap. I wasn’t sure how to respond. “I guess she’s pretty. But she doesn’t hold a candle to you.”
Mary Catherine smiled and said, “I appreciate that, but I don’t want you to think I’m falling for an old line like that.”
“A guy has got to try.”
My cell phone rang. Actually, it played the theme to the movie Shaft, a tune that Ricky had installed on my phone. I glanced at the screen casually and saw that it was Sandy Coles. Mary Catherine saw it, too.
I looked at her and said, “Why do I feel I definitely should not answer this call?”
Chapter 46
I took no chances after Mary Catherine’s question and immediately put the phone on speaker. I didn’t even give the customary warning to the caller that I had done so. I wasn’t worried.
“Hello, Sandy. What’s going on?”
“Hey, Mike. I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but I was wondering if I could impose on you again. I need another favor. A police favor.”
I was silent for a moment and looked at Mary Catherine, who was shaking her head emphatically. I couldn’t pretend to misinterpret that signal.
Then Sandy said over the phone’s speaker, “You can say no, Michael. No one expects you to give up your vacation.”
I winced when I heard her call me Michael. Only Mary Catherine called me Michael now. Occasionally Seamus did, when he wasn’t calling me a jackass or an imbecile. Both were terms of endearment for him.
Sandy said, “This really is important. Not just crowd control at a parade.”
“What do you got?”
“A couple of missing teenagers. I mean really missing. Disappeared from the local hangout and left their car running. There’s a patrol officer over there now, and she says she needs as much help as we can send.”
I was silent for a few more moments.
Then Sandy said, “These aren’t criminals, Michael. These are decent local kids. Both of them are supposed to go to college in a couple of months. I’m really worried.”
I could hear the strain in her voice. I knew what looking for a missing kid could do to a good cop. Failing on a job like that was worse than not finding a killer. At least psychologically.
I looked over at Mary Catherine, who whispered, “So go. Go save the state of Maine, Michael. Go save the world for all I care.”
Mary Catherine wasn’t happy, but I knew that she understood the issue.
I said in a clear voice into the phone, “When can you pick me up?”
Sandy said, “I’m parked in your driveway now.”
Chapter 47
The spot Sandy was talking about was up in the hills on the other side of town. It looked like what I imagined lovers’ lanes looked like across the country. In New York City, we had other places to take our girlfriends, like the rear seats of theaters or Central Park. Nothing as isolated as this. I could understand its attraction for kids. For one thing, you could see a vehicle coming up the winding road for ten minutes before it got there.
It was a wide space just off the road, intended to be a scenic overlook. Instead kids could park here at night without too much fear of getting in trouble.
We found the young patrol officer standing by a new Dodge Challenger. It was sporty with wide tires and looked more like something a middle-aged man who missed the muscle cars of his youth would drive.
The officer, a tall, athletic-looking young woman with straight brown hair tied in a ponytail, was all business as we approached.
“Someone called in about an hour ago because the Challenger was sitting here running with no one in it. I ran the plate, and it comes back to Tom Bacon.”
Sandy said, “The contractor?”
“Yes, ma’am. I haven’t called the house yet. I thought it best that we check the area. I think they might’ve walked up the path across the street higher into the hills.”
I looked into the dark woods and decided I was happier stepping away from the overlook. My fear of heights became more acute the closer I stood to the edge. But with the railing and a couple of cars around, it didn’t bother me too much.
Sandy looked at me and said, “You up for a little hike through the woods?”
I just nodded, relieved to be backing away from the precipice.
Sandy gave me a Windbreaker that said POLICE on the back. She handed me a big Kel-Lite, like the one I used to carry on patrol. It lit up the woods and can be used as a club if need be.
Sandy said, “You carrying an off-duty weapon?”
I patted my hip, where my small Glock 27 rested.
She raised her right hand and said, “Do you swear to uphold the law, blah, blah, blah?”
“Yes?”
Sandy smiled and said, “Good. You’re now an authorized reserve officer with the Linewiler Police Department. Your powers will lapse after one year.”
I just stared at her.
She slapped me on the shoulder and said, “It’s good to have you as a partner again. Now, let’s go find us a couple of missing teenagers.”
Chapter 48
I wasn’t much of a woodsman. That’s not one of the skills you develop when living in a big city. I could figure out what subway someone had taken and what neighborhoods to avoid, but tromping along a narrow trail surrounded by woods was not my usual preference.
Sandy, on the other hand, was raised in New Jersey and used to play in the Pine Barrens. She constantly reminded us what we were missing when we all worked together in the Bronx.
Now I understood what she was talking about. She noticed a freshly broken branch along the trail and pointed out that someone had been through there in the last couple of hours. She also was able to identify where someone had stepped by looking at the disturbed leaves lying on the ground. It was an impressive skill that I wouldn’t have believed unless I had seen it myself.
Occasionally we would stop on the trail and scan the woods with our flashlights. Once I picked up the eyes of an animal. Two red glowing dots in the distance.
I mumbled, “What the hell is that?”
Sandy matter-of-factly said, “It might be a bear. But it’s probably just a fox or a badger.”
I swung the light back that way to judge how far the eyes were off the ground, but I couldn’t find it again. That did not make me feel more confident in any way.
As we continued I kept hearing a rustling sound and had the distinct impression that we were being watched. I moved closer to Sandy and whispered my suspicion.
She was a pro and barely broke stride, but she turned her head to get a good view behind us. She said, “Maybe, but I don’t care right now. We gotta find these kids.”
It was unnerving, and I dropped behind a little. I turned once, quickly, and swept the light to the side of the trail. I caught a glimpse of something. I didn’t know what. Maybe a bright color. I hurried to catch up to Sandy.
I could feel the trail continue to rise as we marched along, finding signs every few hundred feet that someone had been there before us. I didn’t want to admit to Sandy that the woods were freaking me out a little bit. Maybe I had imagined being watched. I reached back and felt the weight of my pistol on my hip. When I do that in New York City, it gives me a feeling of security. In Maine, the idea of shooting a charging bear with my small pistol gave me a feeling of powerlessness.
Finally we stepped out into a wide clearing that gave us a beautiful view of the valley below us. We emerged from the woods onto the rocky flat that extended more than fifty feet.
Sandy walked right to the edge. She motioned me over. I knew it was a drop-off, and I wasn’t thrilled about getting too close. Finally she looked over her shoulder and said, “Come on, you little girl. Take a look at this.”
I crept closer to the edge and could see it was a sheer cliff. Eventually I was able to stand next to Sandy and look straight down. I fought the urge to grab her arm to feel more stable. I always disliked heights, and this was just crazy. Scary wasn’t the word that came to mind.
It felt like we were above the clouds, even though I knew it was just a little fog between us and the ground. I could just make out the stream below. Way below us.
Sandy said, “You don’t think they could’ve ended up going over this cliff, do you?”
I took a step away from the edge and said, “Who knows? I’ve heard that the suicide rate has been climbing steadily.”
Sandy said, “I know. The kids see something romantic in it. But not two of them at the same time. They wouldn’t just step right over the edge.”
She said it more as a hope than a fact.
I said, “Let’s head back to the car. The woods are freaking me out.”
As we started back down the trail, relief washed over me. I no longer felt like eyes were on us. I took the lead and followed the same trail down until I found a split. I didn’t notice it on the way up.
“Let’s look this way.”
Sandy noticed some trampled brush and said, “Good spot, partner.” Just as if I’d seen a suspect in a crowded bus station.
We followed the cutoff for fifty feet, then I froze.
On the ground in front of me was a green Nike athletic shoe.
The homicide detective in me kept me from picking it up. I inspected it where it was.
Sandy stepped around me and scanned the area. “Look here.” She shone her light on the ground.
In the pine needles, I could just make out the outline of a spot where someone had lain on the forest floor. I hoped it hadn’t been a dead body.
Chapter 49
Sandy brought in some officers from the state police to help search the area for the missing teens. So far no media had shown up, but it was just a matter of time before they did.
The kids who called in the report told us who had been in the car. The driver was Thomas Bacon Jr., known in town as Tom-Tom. He was there with his girlfriend, Tricia, who was a star on the high school’s track and lacrosse teams.
Even though it was quite late, we had to talk to the parents. The first place Sandy drove was the missing girl’s house. Sandy didn’t know her personally. She said a lot of houses outside the city limits fed the high school in town.
Tricia Green lived in a well-kept trailer park not far off US Route 2, west of the city. We pulled to a stop on the gravel in front of the trailer, and almost immediately the front door opened.
An attractive African American woman around forty was already calling outside. “Tricia, you’re more than two hours past your curfew. That means you’re grounded for the weekend, and I don’t care…” She saw that she wasn’t talking to her daughter.
The woman stared at us for a moment and saw that we were both wearing police Windbreakers. She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “What’s wrong? Is my baby all right?”
Sandy stepped forward quickly and said, “Mrs. Green, I’m Sandy Coles from the Linewiler Police Department. We don’t know anything about your daughter. That’s why we’re here. We found Tom-Tom Bacon’s car abandoned on Hillside Road, and someone said he was there with your daughter. Have you heard from her?”
The conversation went exactly like every conversation with a panicked parent goes. I just listened as we headed inside and sat on the vinyl sofa while Mrs. Green made us each a cup of coffee.
She was a lovely woman and clearly proud of her daughter. There were pictures of the beautiful lacrosse player all over the walls.
Mrs. Green caught me looking at the photos and said, “My Tricia has a track scholarship at Auburn and is going to play lacrosse at the club level.”
Sandy said, “Auburn is a great school. You must be very proud.”
Mrs. Green nodded.
Then Sandy carefully navigated the more sensitive questions. After the normal questions about the last time Tricia called and where she liked to hang out, Sandy said, “Has your daughter ever expressed any need to hurt herself?”
Mrs. Green took the question in the right way and said, “No. Never.”
“And she has been seeing Tom-Tom for a while?”
“Since the beginning of the semester. He seems like a nice young man, and his family is certainly prominent.”
“Have you ever suspected that your daughter or Tom-Tom uses any kind of drugs?”
That caught Mrs. Green by surprise, and she hesitated to answer. Finally she said, “Kids today are curious and try a lot of things. But you can’t be an athlete at Tricia’s level without taking care of yourself.”
Sandy was masterly in the way she got more information, such as the name of Tricia’s cell-phone carrier and other personal tidbits. Then she assured Mrs. Green that we were doing everything we could to find her daughter.
Sandy stood, and Mrs. Green followed us outside to the car. I knew what Sandy was doing and admired the way she had asked important questions before this most important aspect of the meeting.
/> Sandy reached into the car and brought out the shoe we had found. She showed it to Mrs. Green and said, “Is this Tricia’s shoe?”
Mrs. Green gasped. Slowly she nodded. A tear welled up in her eye.
Sandy said, “It doesn’t mean anything by itself, but I wanted to make sure we were on the right track. Give us some time, and we’ll find the kids.”
As we headed out of the trailer park, I noticed a small figure leaning on the fence surrounding it. I realized it was the girl I had seen at the clambake. The homeless girl named Sadie.
She gave me a sharp salute.
I didn’t know what to do except return it. I was rewarded with a pretty smile as we pulled onto the road. Then I noticed she was wearing a dress with a bright pattern on it. Maybe she got around faster than I thought.
Chapter 50
It was the middle of the night by the time we pulled up in front of Tom Bacon’s house. It was a beautiful redbrick ranch house built directly on a lake, not far from the center of town.
Sandy had called ahead, and Mr. Bacon had the door open before we even pulled to a complete stop in his wide driveway, which led to a three-car garage. A Range Rover and a new F-150 pickup truck sat in the driveway.
Mr. Bacon was tall and carried extra weight around his midsection. He looked like the stereotype of a successful businessman. His red face hinted at how much he drank most nights, but he was stone cold sober as he approached us.
He gave no greeting, and his first words were, “Is someone going to take care of my son’s car, or do I need to go up and get it?”
Sandy said, “Can we ask you a few questions first?”
The heavyset white man turned and signaled us to follow him into the house. I started to wonder if there might be some racial overtones to this disappearance. Many people mistakenly thought the majority of racially motivated crimes took place in the South. They didn’t seem to take into account places like Boston, where resistance to school integration was as strong as anywhere in the country. There were still a number of hate crimes committed across the Northeast. I was hoping that wasn’t the case here.