I showered, got dressed, and threw a ball to Roger for a few minutes before heading to work. It wasn’t even eight in the morning, so St. Augustine was just waking up. A bar owner was hosing off the sidewalk in front of his establishment on Main Street, and a few tourists sauntered to diners and restaurants for breakfast.
My phone call with Julia had thrown off my schedule, so I had missed the morning roll-call meeting once again, which wouldn’t endear me to either my boss or anyone else in the station. I skipped my usual stop at Rise and Grind and went to work, where I found my boss—Travis—in the conference room along with Detectives Delgado and Martin. All of them sat around a table strewn with documents and photographs, most of which focused on Megan Young. When he saw me, Delgado’s face went red.
“You missed roll call again,” he said. “That’s two strikes. What do you think happens at three?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll turn on the news and learn I screwed up a murder investigation because I refused to listen to a colleague.”
Delgado didn’t get the chance to speak before Travis escorted me out of the room. When we reached my desk, he crossed his arms.
“What did you hope to accomplish with that conversation?”
“I had hoped Delgado and Martin would listen and pull their heads out of their asses,” I said. “Megan Young was my case before they took it. I was right, and they were wrong. If I were still on the case, we’d be days closer to finding our murderer. We might have even been able to save our department some embarrassment. Instead, I’m sidelined to working the speed trap. Is that what I’m wasting my time on today?”
He paused before speaking.
“You’re close to insubordination.”
“I don’t care. Delgado and Martin can do the job, but I’m better. I’m not bragging; I’m stating a fact. You know it, and I know it. That should be my case.”
He sat on a nearby desk. “You’re too close to it.”
I shook my head and tried to keep my voice level and strong.
“My proximity to the case gives me insight other people can’t possess. From what Harry tells me, those two clowns in the conference room were ready to start waterboarding a pizza delivery driver yesterday. They should have been following up on Megan Young. Instead, they wasted everybody’s time and harassed some poor kids trying to make a buck at their after-school jobs.”
Travis drew in a breath and raised his eyebrows while looking down.
“Delgado and Martin had their own ideas about the investigation. They were wrong, but I’m not sure what I would have done differently.”
“Then you would have screwed up, too,” I said. “I had already asked Dr. Sheridan to check the victim’s teeth against Megan Young’s records. Delgado told him not to. Even if the guy doesn’t like me, even if he thinks I’m an idiot, he should have let the process work.”
Travis uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on either side of him. His eyes locked onto mine.
“You’re right. They should have listened to you,” he said. “Since they didn’t, we all have to deal with the consequences. This isn’t some personal vendetta, though. They talked to witnesses who saw a pizza delivery driver at the Wayfair Motel at the time of Megan Young’s murder. They followed the evidence and did their jobs.”
“They should have let Dr. Sheridan do his job, too,” I said. “And this is personal, Travis. Delgado has had it out for me ever since I became a detective. He’s patronizing, misogynistic, and mean. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he ignores me. If we had an HR department, I’d talk to them. But we don’t have an HR department. We’ve got you. You’re the boss. He’s your employee. Deal with him.”
Travis looked down. He bit his lip before speaking.
“You remind me of Julia when you say things like that.”
“Then respect me as much as you respect her and do something about an asshole under your command.”
He looked up and raised his eyebrows while nodding. “I’ll talk to him. Meantime, I need you to work a missing-persons case. Boy’s name is Jude Lewis. Parents came in early this morning.”
I walked around my desk, opened the top drawer for a notepad, and then flipped through pages of interview notes.
“He’s Paige Maxwell’s boyfriend. Her parents reported her missing last night. I think they ran off together.”
“I see,” said Travis, standing. “Talk to the parents. Trisha has their contact information.”
“Does this mean I’m off the speed trap?”
He nodded. “You’re off the speed trap. You’re too close to the Megan Young case, so I stand by my decision to take you off it. That said, I’ll make sure you have access to Delgado and Martin’s reports. Maybe you’ll see something they don’t.”
“Helen Keller could see things they don’t.”
Travis nodded and then stood. “Respect goes both ways, Detective.”
I softened my voice. “Yeah. Message received.”
“Good,” he said before walking away.
I spent the rest of the morning talking to Doug and Karen Lewis, Jude Lewis’s parents. When I told them Paige Maxwell was also missing, they seemed relieved. They knew Paige had difficult circumstances at home, so they weren’t surprised that she and Jude might have gone away for a while.
Even though I suspected the two of them were together and safe, I dug into both of their lives. I looked into their bank accounts and found that they had both withdrawn several hundred dollars. I checked on their cell phones and found that both were off and inaccessible. Then I talked to their friends. Nobody admitted knowing where the two kids were, but their friends all agreed to call me if they heard from them. Next, I called two dozen hospitals to make sure they hadn’t admitted anyone who matched the description of Paige or Jude. And last, I contacted the Missouri Highway Patrol to ask them to look for Paige’s white Ford Focus.
Beyond that, I couldn’t do much. If they wanted to hide, we wouldn’t find them. More than that, nothing I had found told me they were in trouble. They were two kids in love, and they wanted a break from the stresses of their lives. I couldn’t blame them. If we hadn’t found them by the week’s end, I’d worry, but for now, the two of them could have their fun.
I left the high school where I had interviewed Jude’s friends at about noon, and my stomach was rumbling. On a normal day, I would have picked up a sandwich at Able’s Diner for lunch, but I didn’t want to wait in line—not when I had other options, at least. I pulled out my phone and called Trisha at work. When she answered, there was a commotion in the background. That wasn’t too uncommon in a police station.
“Hey, it’s Joe. I’m going to run by the grocery store and pick up lunch. You want anything?”
“Lunch? No,” she said, sounding surprised. “I need you to get down here.”
“Something wrong?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Get down here. Lights and sirens.”
My old truck didn’t have lights or a siren, but I turned my key in the ignition. “I’m on my way. See you in a few.”