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Authors: Linwood Barclay
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business cards, which included not only my work number but my home and cell numbers.
“Hey,” he said, slipping it into his pocket.
I walked the license over to the girl at reception so she could make a copy, all the while glancing out into the lot at Jennings. She was short—she probably topped out at five feet—with strong facial features. A woman my mother might have referred to as handsome instead of pretty, but the latter word was also apt. I would have handed Mr. Fletcher off to Andy, but he was in Laura’s office getting chewed out. If I had to let a customer cool his heels while I found out what had happened to my daughter, tough. But Jennings was on her cell, so I took another moment to get this guy set up for a test drive.
I instructed one of the younger guys in the office to track down a Ridgeline, hang some dealer plates off it, and bring it up to the door ASAP.
“We’ll have one ready for you in just a couple of minutes,” I said to Fletcher. “Normally I’d tag along for the test drive—”
Fletcher looked dismayed. “Last place I went let me take it out alone. Not so much, you know, pressure?”
“Yeah, well, I was about to say, if you’re okay going alone, I just have to talk to this person—”
“That’s perfect,” he said.
“One of the fellows will be bringing up one of our demo trucks in a second. We can talk after?”
Even though Jennings was still on her phone, I bolted out of the showroom and walked briskly across the lot toward her. She saw me coming, held up an index finger to indicate that she’d be just another second. I stood patiently, like a kid waiting to see the teacher, while she finished her call.
It didn’t exactly sound like police business. Jennings said, “Well, what do you expect? If you don’t study, you’re not going to do well. If you don’t do your homework, you’re going to get a zero. It’s not rocket science, Cassie. You don’t do the work, you don’t get the marks…. Yeah, okay…. I don’t know yet. Maybe hot dogs or something. I got to go, sweetheart.”
She flipped the phone shut and slipped it into the purse slung over her shoulder.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to listen in.”
“That’s okay,” Kip Jennings said. “My daughter. She doesn’t think it’s fair that you get a zero when you don’t hand in an assignment.”
“How old is she?”
“Twelve,” she said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Richard Fletcher get into the gleaming new pickup and drive it off the lot. But I was focused on Jennings, what she might have to say.
She must have seen the look on my face, a mixture of hope, expectation, and dread, so she got to it right away. She took half a step back so that when she looked up at me she didn’t have to crane her neck so much.
“You have time to take a ride with me?” she asked.
“Where?” I asked.
Please don’t say the morgue .
“Up to Derby,” she said.
“What’s in Derby?”
“Your daughter’s car,” Jennings said.
FIVE
“W HERE DID YOU FIND IT?” I asked, sitting up front in Kip Jennings’s gray four-door Chevy. It had none of the trappings of a regular police car. No obvious markings, no rooftop light, no barrier between the front and back seats. Just lots of discarded junk food wrappers and empty coffee cups.
“I didn’t find it,” Jennings said. “It was found in a Wal-Mart lot. It had been sitting there a few days. The management finally called the cops to have it towed.”
“Was there anyone…” I hesitated. “Was there anyone in the car?” I was thinking about the trunk.
Jennings glanced over at me. “No,” she said, then looked at the tiny satellite navigation screen that had been stuck to the top of the dash. “I always have this on even when I know where I’m going. I just like watching it.”
“How long’s the car been there?”
“Not sure. It was parked with a few others, no one really noticed it for a while.”
I closed my eyes a moment,
“Hey,” he said, slipping it into his pocket.
I walked the license over to the girl at reception so she could make a copy, all the while glancing out into the lot at Jennings. She was short—she probably topped out at five feet—with strong facial features. A woman my mother might have referred to as handsome instead of pretty, but the latter word was also apt. I would have handed Mr. Fletcher off to Andy, but he was in Laura’s office getting chewed out. If I had to let a customer cool his heels while I found out what had happened to my daughter, tough. But Jennings was on her cell, so I took another moment to get this guy set up for a test drive.
I instructed one of the younger guys in the office to track down a Ridgeline, hang some dealer plates off it, and bring it up to the door ASAP.
“We’ll have one ready for you in just a couple of minutes,” I said to Fletcher. “Normally I’d tag along for the test drive—”
Fletcher looked dismayed. “Last place I went let me take it out alone. Not so much, you know, pressure?”
“Yeah, well, I was about to say, if you’re okay going alone, I just have to talk to this person—”
“That’s perfect,” he said.
“One of the fellows will be bringing up one of our demo trucks in a second. We can talk after?”
Even though Jennings was still on her phone, I bolted out of the showroom and walked briskly across the lot toward her. She saw me coming, held up an index finger to indicate that she’d be just another second. I stood patiently, like a kid waiting to see the teacher, while she finished her call.
It didn’t exactly sound like police business. Jennings said, “Well, what do you expect? If you don’t study, you’re not going to do well. If you don’t do your homework, you’re going to get a zero. It’s not rocket science, Cassie. You don’t do the work, you don’t get the marks…. Yeah, okay…. I don’t know yet. Maybe hot dogs or something. I got to go, sweetheart.”
She flipped the phone shut and slipped it into the purse slung over her shoulder.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to listen in.”
“That’s okay,” Kip Jennings said. “My daughter. She doesn’t think it’s fair that you get a zero when you don’t hand in an assignment.”
“How old is she?”
“Twelve,” she said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Richard Fletcher get into the gleaming new pickup and drive it off the lot. But I was focused on Jennings, what she might have to say.
She must have seen the look on my face, a mixture of hope, expectation, and dread, so she got to it right away. She took half a step back so that when she looked up at me she didn’t have to crane her neck so much.
“You have time to take a ride with me?” she asked.
“Where?” I asked.
Please don’t say the morgue .
“Up to Derby,” she said.
“What’s in Derby?”
“Your daughter’s car,” Jennings said.
FIVE
“W HERE DID YOU FIND IT?” I asked, sitting up front in Kip Jennings’s gray four-door Chevy. It had none of the trappings of a regular police car. No obvious markings, no rooftop light, no barrier between the front and back seats. Just lots of discarded junk food wrappers and empty coffee cups.
“I didn’t find it,” Jennings said. “It was found in a Wal-Mart lot. It had been sitting there a few days. The management finally called the cops to have it towed.”
“Was there anyone…” I hesitated. “Was there anyone in the car?” I was thinking about the trunk.
Jennings glanced over at me. “No,” she said, then looked at the tiny satellite navigation screen that had been stuck to the top of the dash. “I always have this on even when I know where I’m going. I just like watching it.”
“How long’s the car been there?”
“Not sure. It was parked with a few others, no one really noticed it for a while.”
I closed my eyes a moment,
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