Jarrod Harmon took one look at Darla and the man she was dragging behind her and knew something was wrong. Darla avoided the police station at all costs. It took a lot for her to come down here and seek him out.
He stood as she came through the doors to the major crimes unit. “Darla, what is it?”
She was breathing as though she’d run all the way to the precinct. “Sara is in trouble.” She frowned a bit. “We think. Maybe.”
“Sara?” Jarrod tried to think back through to the friends of Darla’s that he’d met, but none were ringing a bell.
Darla nodded and pulled her friend forward. “Tell him, Buddy.”
The man ducked his eyes and nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Buddy saw Sara this morning. She was coming to bring him coffee like she always does, then someone picked her up in a car. But the thing is, she didn’t bring Buddy his coffee. She dropped it on the ground and she looks at Buddy all funny like there’s something wrong.”
As tips went, it wasn’t a great one, but something in Jarrod’s gut tightened. “Do you mean Sara Blackburn? Warrick Staunton’s girlfriend?”
“Yeah, Sara.” Darla nodded at Jarrod like she was resisting calling him an idiot. Either that or simply thankful he was finally catching on.
“Buddy, what made you think something was wrong, other than the look she gave you?”
“I think there was a gun,” Buddy said quietly. “The man had a gun on her.”
He frowned and dialed Warrick’s number. No answer.
He dialed the number for Simms Pharmaceutical next, raising his hand to wave his partner, Cal, over in the meantime. He spoke briefly with Warrick’s assistant before hanging up. He quickly filled Cal in.
“Warrick and Sara are both no-shows at work. The assistant said she can’t reach either of them. They aren’t returning calls and Sara has missed a couple of meetings she’d scheduled this morning.”
“You think this could be linked to Tyvek?”
Jarrod shrugged. “Could be nothing. It’s hard to know at this point. Warrick’s assistant is checking the parking lot for their cars. She’ll call us back.” He turned to Buddy. “Did you get a look at the man in the car?”
Buddy shook his head. “Not really,” he mumbled. “Saw the gun, though. He held it up at her, then pointed it into the back seat.”
“What kind of car was it? Do you know the make or the color? Any idea of the plate number?”
“Fancy. Real fancy. Black. License plate started with TZ3.”
“Cal—”
“On it,” Cal said, sitting in front of his computer screen and slapping away at the keys before Jarrod even made the request. He paused a minute before looking up. “Warrick Staunton drives a black Mercedes Maybach. License plate matches.”
Cal hit a few more keys, then turned the monitor toward Buddy. “Is this the car you saw?”
Buddy nodded. “That’s it.” For once, there seemed to be some power behind his words instead of the doubt they’d heard so far. “That’s the one I saw.”
Cal pulled up a picture of Warrick. “Was this the man driving?”
Buddy shook his head slowly and shrugged. Jarrod took it to mean the man didn’t know. Call pulled up the photo they’d gotten from one of the computer guys. They’d taken an old image of William Tyvek and given him brown hair to see what he would look like if he was the one who’d used the hair dye at the apartment they had raided. Tyvek never showed back up to the place.
A canvas of the neighbors had been a little more helpful. The woman across the hall had been only too happy to help them. She was plump and happy, at least until they mentioned her neighbor. Then she’d scowled and said he was rude and didn’t talk to anyone. Kathi Gilliam had told them the picture the computer guys had come up with wasn’t too far off. She’d told them to lighten the hair a bit and add a scar to his right cheek.
Cal showed the picture to Buddy. “Could this be him?”
Another shrug.
Shit. They might or might not have a crime. Sara might or might not be in danger. Warrick Staunton or William Tyvek might or might not be involved. Perfect.