As much as I wanted to find Laura Rojas’s murderer, I had little to do on the case until George Delgado found Aldon McKenzie, or until Shaun Deveraux got my warrant for Laura’s office. Even apart from Laura’s case, though, I had enough work for three detectives, which meant I had little difficulty finding a project.
I left the building and drove home at three in the afternoon. At this time of year, the sun would be up for at least another four hours, and I didn’t plan to waste the time. Once I reached my house, I changed into clothes appropriate for walking in the woods, filled up my canteen, gave Roger a couple scoops of food, and then got back in my truck. Roger whined at me, clearly wanting to go. A year ago, I would have taken him, but now, he’d slow me down too much.
I waved to him from my truck’s cab and backed out of the driveway. When Paige Maxwell’s parents had come and said their little girl was missing, I hadn’t been too worried. I figured she might show up pregnant, but I thought she’d come home when she ran out of money. Harry had convinced me otherwise, though. This wasn’t a missing-person case anymore. It had become a homicide investigation in all but name.
I drove to the area in which we had found her car and parked on the side of the road. Dozens of sworn officers and volunteer searchers had scoured the surrounding countryside, so I didn’t expect to find anything. Still, Paige and Jude might have died there. Maybe their killer had even buried their bodies nearby. The tornado that had ripped through the area might have unearthed them or even scattered their bones across the landscape. Almost anything was possible.
I stepped out of my truck and onto ground still wet from a recent rain shower. Thick woods surrounded me. The Highway Patrol’s wrecker had left deep furrows in the mud when it picked up Paige’s car. Rainwater had filled those furrows, creating a perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes. The air was still. Even the birds were quiet. It was both eerie and beautiful.
I walked through those woods for two hours, wondering whether Paige and Jude had ever seen them. Their killer could have dumped Paige’s car anywhere. Why did he choose here? Ross Kelly Farms was about four miles to the west. The interstate was at least five miles away. I didn’t even know where the nearest home was.
This place was special to our killer. It meant something to him. The steep hills and jagged limestone outcroppings didn’t make for great farmland, but hikers and campers should have loved it. If I hadn’t been making so much noise, there’d be deer and other wildlife, too. Hunters should have been all over this place. Despite that, I hadn’t passed a single trail, campground, cabin, or deer blind. I made a mental note to stop by the library and read up on the history of the property.
Birch, box elder, and black gum trees swayed in the warm breeze around me as shafts of light cascaded down through the forest canopy and struck the ground at my feet.
“You were here,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. “You know this place. Who are you?”
Nobody answered. I continued walking—and stumbling—until the sun set. I found nothing, but I felt an ominous presence while walking those hills.
When I got back in my truck, I downed the last of my canteen of water and wiggled my toes inside my hiking boots. So far, my hiking boots had held up well considering I had purchased them at a secondhand store for five bucks. Already, though, the padding beneath my heel had grown stiff, and the arch support had disappeared. A pair of inserts would make them more comfortable, but these boots had served their purpose. I could raid my home-improvement fund and buy some decent ones. Until we found Paige and Jude, I figured I’d be spending a lot of time outside.
I drove back to St. Augustine and hit the town proper in about fifteen minutes. My fridge at home held little food, so I stopped by Able’s Diner for a tuna melt sandwich and a cup of soup. It wasn’t even nine yet, and already there were several intoxicated undergraduates from Waterford College inside the restaurant. If they had acted rowdy, I would have called the college’s security office to have them picked up, but they were behaving themselves.
I walked by their table and showed them my badge. They smiled. One girl fluttered her eyes at me. I didn’t understand what she was trying to do, so I ignored her and focused on the others at the table.
“You guys have a sober driver tonight?”
“We’re not drunk, officer,” said a boy. He didn’t slur his words, but he smelled like alcohol. “We’re just having dinner.”
“Dude, people lie to me every day of my life,” I said, shaking my head. “You suck at it.”
He didn’t seem to know how to respond, but a girl in the corner held up her hand.
“I’m the driver. I don’t drink.”
“Good,” I said. “Just checking. You all look like you’re over twenty-one, so I won’t ask for ID. Have fun, but don’t be stupid. Okay?”
They nodded, one of them so effusively he almost butted heads with the man in the booth behind him.
“You guys be careful,” I said, stepping away from the table. The girl at the register handed me a paper sack with my sandwich and soup a moment later, and I got back in my truck. My drive home took me right by Waterford College’s main entrance. Outside, a young woman sat on a bench as if she were waiting for the bus. She held a paper sack from which she took drinks.
I pulled off the road and parked near her. She didn’t even glance at me as I shut my door.
“June?” I called. She looked at me with eyes muddled by booze.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Joe Court,” I said.
She grunted and took another swig.
“What do you want?”
I said nothing. Instead, I sat beside her and held out my hand for the bag. I didn’t drink anything, but I took a big whiff once she handed it to me.
“Peach schnapps, huh?” I said, handing it back. “I’m more of a straight vodka drinker.”
She reached into her purse for a plastic pint of vodka.
“That’s next. I wanted something that tasted good first.”
“Not a bad plan,” I said, nodding. “Any reason you’re out here getting drunk?”
She shrugged. “Roommate’s fucking her chemistry lab partner in our room. Figured it’d be awkward if I stayed to get drunk while that was going on.”
“I can see that,” I said, nodding.
She took another sip of her peach schnapps. Neither of us spoke for two or three minutes. Then she looked at me.
“Are you going to arrest me for public intoxication?”
“You don’t look that intoxicated,” I said, tilting my head to the side. “I could arrest you for minor consumption, but I don’t want to fill out the paperwork.”
“Why are you here then?”
I shrugged and leaned forward so my elbows rested on my knees. “I saw somebody who looked like she needed a friend.”
She looked at me. By the way her lip curled, I thought she was going to puke, but then she snorted and took another sip of her cheap booze.
“You’re not my friend.”
“No, I’m not,” I said. “But I’m here. Are you getting drunk tonight for a reason, or is this how you spend your nights?”
“None of your business,” she said.
“All right,” I said, taking out my phone from my purse. “I’ll call Waterford’s campus police and have them pick you up.”
She looked at me with genuine hurt in her eyes. “Bitch.”
“You’ve stung me to the core,” I said, thumbing through my address book for their number. June stood up. She wobbled for a second, but she didn’t fall down.
“I got it, okay?” she said. “I’m going home.”
“Stay and talk to me instead. Most people think I’m a nice person.”
“I’m fine.”
“If you say so,” I said.
She hesitated and then walked away. Her footsteps were plodding, and her head and torso leaned to the left, drawing her off course. Before she fell over, I jogged toward her and put an arm around her shoulder to lead her back to the bench. Her shoulders were thin, and the stink of cheap alcohol came off her in waves.
She didn’t fight me, so I helped her sit before taking the bottle of peach schnapps from her and dumping it out on the street. Then, I reached into her purse for her vodka. That, too, I opened and poured onto the street.
Once she realized what I was doing, she sat straighter and reached for my arm.
“That’s mine,” she said. “Give it back.”
“You’re underage, and you’ve had enough to drink for your entire sorority,” I said, fending her off with my right hand while I poured with my left. Once both bottles were empty, she crossed her arms.
“You’re such a cunt.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “That’s not a nice word.”
She didn’t respond, not that I expected her to.
“Have you eaten anything today?” I asked.
She said nothing, so I repeated the question.
“I’ve got a meal card,” she said.
“That doesn’t answer my question, June.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re drinking cheap booze alone on a plastic bench outside your school,” I said. “Does that sound like healthy behavior to you?”
She said nothing for a time. Then she looked down.
“I’m fine.”
“You want half a tuna melt sandwich?” I asked. “I’ve got potato soup, too, but that’s mine.”
She seemed to think for a moment. “Would it matter if I said no?”
“It always matters if you say no.”
“Not to Chad,” she said. “And he’s still out there.”
“He is,” I said, softening my voice. “We can talk about that over dinner if you want.”
Neither of us said anything for at least five minutes. Finally, she looked at me and sighed.
“I could eat,” she said.
“Good,” I said, standing. “Let’s talk and eat.”