nameplate, had busted him talking to a clerk at the customer service counter.
“No interviews with my staff inside the store.”
“Why not?”
“Company policy. I’m sorry, you’ll have to leave.”
After considering his options, Jason put his notebook away. As he walked by the checkouts, a husky-voiced cashier—“Pam,” according to her tag—pulled him aside. “Candy and I are taking our break outside in five minutes. Hang around, we’ll talk to you.”
“Sure.”
That was fifteen minutes ago.
Jason continued pacing near the shopping cart corral. While waiting he’d managed to get a call answered at the Colsons’ home. But the FBI wouldn’t put Lee Colson on the line, saying there’d be a news conference in forty-five minutes, hinting that Lee would be there. Jason checked his watch. How much more time could he afford to wait here?
Ten more minutes, then he’d bail.
Tapping his notebook against his leg, he ran through his thoughts. After his encounter with Grace Garner, he got nothing more from bewildered eyewitness Lani Tychina, other than her address and phone number. Then he’d returned to the pack at the scene where little was happening, until he noticed something the others had missed.
Movement behind Kim’s Corner Store.
A teenage girl leaving with Annette Tabor, the Colsons’ neighbor. It had to be Shannon, Annette’s daughter. He followed his hunch to the Tabor house and rang the bell. To his surprise, Annette and Shannon came to the door, their faces taut with worry.
“My daughter’s not granting any interviews.”
“No, Mom. I need to tell him.” Shannon kept him on the doorstep. He wrote quickly as she gave him a terse account of what had happened, ending it by stating: “You’ve got to write that this was not my fault. It was not my fault!” Shannon’s hand flew to her mouth as her mother pulled her away and tried to close the door.
“Wait.” He flipped through his pages. “Mrs. Tabor, you told me earlier that the Colsons had already ‘been through so much! And now this!’ Please, what does that mean?”
“This is just too upsetting,” she said and began shutting the door.
“But Mrs. Tabor, I’m just looking for people who might know—”
“Try the cashiers at the Supermart where Maria worked,” Shannon shouted to him before her mother closed the door.
As he drove to the local Better Price Supermart, he looked anxiously into his rearview mirror at the satellite news trucks gathering in front of the Colsons’ home.
It was eight minutes away.
He stood a good chance of learning more about Maria with the cashiers. From stories he’d done on supermarket robberies, he knew how hard they worked. Standing on their feet all day. Some got varicose veins or backaches. They contended with scanners that malfunctioned, dealt with bitchy customers and management that plotted to claw back hard-won wages and benefits. It helped color the unfolding picture of Maria Colson’s life.
“Who’re you with?”
He turned to face Pam the cashier as she blew a stream of cigarette smoke skyward.
“ Seattle Mirror. ” Jason produced business cards for Pam and Candice, the younger cashier with her who was snapping her gum and looking around as if she were guilty of something.
“Mitch’s going to freak out,” she said.
“Screw him. It’s our time.” Pam studied his card. “We saw some of what happened on the TV in the lunchroom. The produce manager told us about the alert. It’s horrible. Is Maria still alive?”
“As far as I know,” Jason said.
“Did they find Dylan yet?” Pam asked.
“Not yet.”
“Where’s Lee?” Candice asked.
“Either at the hospital, or at home with the police, in case there’s a ransom call or something. That’s what I’ve heard.”
“Is it true? Did it happen like we’re hearing? Someone just snatched Dylan from her then ran her down?” Pam asked.
“The details are still sketchy,” he said.
Candice touched the
“No interviews with my staff inside the store.”
“Why not?”
“Company policy. I’m sorry, you’ll have to leave.”
After considering his options, Jason put his notebook away. As he walked by the checkouts, a husky-voiced cashier—“Pam,” according to her tag—pulled him aside. “Candy and I are taking our break outside in five minutes. Hang around, we’ll talk to you.”
“Sure.”
That was fifteen minutes ago.
Jason continued pacing near the shopping cart corral. While waiting he’d managed to get a call answered at the Colsons’ home. But the FBI wouldn’t put Lee Colson on the line, saying there’d be a news conference in forty-five minutes, hinting that Lee would be there. Jason checked his watch. How much more time could he afford to wait here?
Ten more minutes, then he’d bail.
Tapping his notebook against his leg, he ran through his thoughts. After his encounter with Grace Garner, he got nothing more from bewildered eyewitness Lani Tychina, other than her address and phone number. Then he’d returned to the pack at the scene where little was happening, until he noticed something the others had missed.
Movement behind Kim’s Corner Store.
A teenage girl leaving with Annette Tabor, the Colsons’ neighbor. It had to be Shannon, Annette’s daughter. He followed his hunch to the Tabor house and rang the bell. To his surprise, Annette and Shannon came to the door, their faces taut with worry.
“My daughter’s not granting any interviews.”
“No, Mom. I need to tell him.” Shannon kept him on the doorstep. He wrote quickly as she gave him a terse account of what had happened, ending it by stating: “You’ve got to write that this was not my fault. It was not my fault!” Shannon’s hand flew to her mouth as her mother pulled her away and tried to close the door.
“Wait.” He flipped through his pages. “Mrs. Tabor, you told me earlier that the Colsons had already ‘been through so much! And now this!’ Please, what does that mean?”
“This is just too upsetting,” she said and began shutting the door.
“But Mrs. Tabor, I’m just looking for people who might know—”
“Try the cashiers at the Supermart where Maria worked,” Shannon shouted to him before her mother closed the door.
As he drove to the local Better Price Supermart, he looked anxiously into his rearview mirror at the satellite news trucks gathering in front of the Colsons’ home.
It was eight minutes away.
He stood a good chance of learning more about Maria with the cashiers. From stories he’d done on supermarket robberies, he knew how hard they worked. Standing on their feet all day. Some got varicose veins or backaches. They contended with scanners that malfunctioned, dealt with bitchy customers and management that plotted to claw back hard-won wages and benefits. It helped color the unfolding picture of Maria Colson’s life.
“Who’re you with?”
He turned to face Pam the cashier as she blew a stream of cigarette smoke skyward.
“ Seattle Mirror. ” Jason produced business cards for Pam and Candice, the younger cashier with her who was snapping her gum and looking around as if she were guilty of something.
“Mitch’s going to freak out,” she said.
“Screw him. It’s our time.” Pam studied his card. “We saw some of what happened on the TV in the lunchroom. The produce manager told us about the alert. It’s horrible. Is Maria still alive?”
“As far as I know,” Jason said.
“Did they find Dylan yet?” Pam asked.
“Not yet.”
“Where’s Lee?” Candice asked.
“Either at the hospital, or at home with the police, in case there’s a ransom call or something. That’s what I’ve heard.”
“Is it true? Did it happen like we’re hearing? Someone just snatched Dylan from her then ran her down?” Pam asked.
“The details are still sketchy,” he said.
Candice touched the
Similar Books
