They’d missed Donner and Lyons. Neither had been at their desks, nor at home. They’d go back later, now turning their attention to Christy’s last movements. Four waffle houses had been busts and his partner had been silently surly.
Noah’s patience was fraying around the edges. “Let’s just get this done.”
But Jack didn’t move. He sat, staring at the waffle house. “I’m sorry, Web.”
The quiet words were the first his partner had uttered in hours. “About?”
“I was out of line. I knew Eve wasn’t trying to save her own skin.”
“That apology should go to Eve. I don’t understand why you said it in the first place.”
“It’s not that complicated. I told you I’d been trying to get her attention for months.”
“Let me get this straight. You are jealous of me? You told me to ask her out.”
“Thinking she’d say no. I never expected her to fall all over you in less than a day.”
“That was just an act.” No, it wasn’t. Not for me. And when Eve was able, she’d say it hadn’t been for her either.
Jack opened his car door. “Not from where I was sitting. Let’s go.”
Noah followed him into the waffle house, forcing his mind to think about killing, not kissing. Jack had Christy’s driver’s license photo in his hand, showed it to the hostess.
“We’re with the police, ma’am,” Jack said. “Have you seen this woman?”
“No, but I’ve seen you.” She pointed to the magazine rack. “You’re Phelps.”
Jack winced. “Can we talk to the manager or some of the other servers?”
“Have a seat, Detectives. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, ma’am,” Noah said. “We’ll wait.”
The manager hurried out. “I’m Richard Smith. Please come back to my office.”
“We’re looking for anyone who saw this woman early Monday,” Jack said.
“This shift wouldn’t have been here during the night. You should come back tonight.”
It was what they’d heard four times before. “Thank you, we’ll do that,” Noah said.
“Or,” Smith continued thoughtfully, “we have security video of the cash register.”
They’d also heard that four times before, but three of the cameras were pointed toward the cashier, management more concerned about employee theft than robberies. The fourth video quality was so bad they couldn’t see anything.
“That would be a big help,” Jack said. “Thank you.”
Smith went to his computer and began typing. “Sunday between midnight and four?”
Noah and Jack exchanged impressed glances. “You have it digitized?” Noah asked.
“We just invested in a new system about a year ago. There was a robbery next door. A kid was shot pretty bad. They had an old system and you couldn’t see the shooter’s face. We’re open all night, too. All of our people were at risk. So me and the manager next door went in together, got a better system and made sure everybody knew it. So far so good. Nobody’s hit us again.”
After a few minutes of stopping and starting, Smith looked up. “This might be her.”
“It’s Christy,” Noah said, when he looked at the screen. “Time was 3:24.”
“Here’s the crew that was on that night, with their phone numbers, in case you can’t wait until tonight to interview them. You’ll want the original digital video file, I assume.”
“Thank you,” Noah said, with relief. “Not many shops put this much into security.”
Jack’s eyes lit. “You have cameras in the parking lot. Here and the gas station?”
“Yes, sir,” Smith said proudly. “We sure do. You want video of the same time?”
“Plus two hours on either end, please,” Jack said, then turned to Noah. “If somebody followed her home, we’ll be able to find them.”
Tuesday, February 23, 5:00 p.m.
“Tom.” Olivia stood with a big smile for the young man crossing the bullpen. He was the son of one of her sister Mia’s best friends, accompanied by a girl with a sober, terrified look, and Olivia was instantly curious. “You played a great game on Sunday.”
“Thanks. We need your help. This is Liza Barkley. Liza, Detective Sutherland.”
“Pull up some chairs,” Olivia said and listened as Liza told her story, haltingly. Heartbreakingly. “It must have been hard to learn your sister was in the life.”
“I am so scared,” Liza whispered. “What if one of her… customers hurt her?”
Olivia weighed her words. “Liza, you seem too smart for me to try to sugarcoat this. Prostitutes have a high mortality rate. If she’s been missing for two days and she hasn’t called when she always did before, it’s not good. After two days, her trail may be cold.”
Liza had gone paler, if possible, but her chin went up. “Do you have a sister?”
“Yes, and I wouldn’t take no for an answer either if my sister was in trouble. Let me check for you. I’ll find out if she was arrested in a group and who posted her bail, but I want something in return. Your promise you will not go hunting at night.” Liza nodded dutifully. “You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?” Olivia asked.
Liza nodded and Olivia sighed.
“Olivia?” Tom asked and she knew what was coming.
“No. I’m not going with you.”
“Why not?” Tom asked. “Come on,” he wheedled, then shrugged. “Mia would.”
Olivia shook her head. “That is a low blow.”
“But effective,” he said.
“If I can, I’ll go with you. Once. But I want your promise, Liza.”
Liza nodded. “I promise.”
Tuesday, February 23, 5:30 p.m.
Tom took Liza’s bag and hailed another cab. “I’m taking you home.”
“What if I don’t want you to know where I live?”
“Too late. Your address was on the police report. I won’t leave the cab. I promise.”
Liza believed him. She was too tired not to. “I keep saying thank you.”
“Then don’t, just get in.” He followed her into the cab, gave the driver her address.
“You’ve helped me, when you didn’t need to.”
“When I was little, my father knocked my mother around. People helped us when they didn’t need to. I learned a long time ago to pay it forward. So stop thanking me.”
“Okay.” She fixed her gaze out the window and made herself accept the truth. “I think Lindsay’s dead. But I can’t give up looking for her.”
“I understand. What time did you start hunting last night?”
“Eleven.”
“My uncle’s in town and I’m meeting him for dinner. I can’t cancel because he’ll get suspicious and I don’t think he’d like me hunting hookers with you tonight.” He said it under his breath so the driver wouldn’t hear. “It’ll be eleven or twelve before I’m back in the dorm. Do not leave without me. I will come and get you in my car. Promise me.”
“What about your cop friend? Will Olivia tell?”
“Tell my uncle? No. I think they’ve only met each other once at a wedding, so, no.” He put another twenty in her bookbag. “Get some food. Promise me.”
“Tom.” Overwhelmed, she had to say it once more. “Thank you.”
Tuesday, February 23, 5:50 p.m.
Jack dropped a photo on Abbott’s desk. “We think we found him.”
Abbott picked up the photo of a clean-cut forty-four-year-old man. “Who is he?”
“His name is Axel Girard,” Noah said. “He’s an optometrist in Edina. His car followed Christy Lewis’s out of the waffle house lot on Monday.”
“Does he have a record?” Abbott asked.
“No,” Noah said. “Only one speeding ticket years ago. He’s a churchgoing man and was volunteer of the year for doing free eye exams in inner-city neighborhoods.”
Abbott sighed. “And our killer glues their eyes open.”
“Exactly,” Jack said and put down a series of time-stamped photos. “Security video shows him waiting in his car for over an hour. When Christy came out, she went to the gas station next door. He moved his car so that he was closer to the shared exit. Christy filled up her tank. She leaves, and a minute later, so does Girard.”