It was nearly eight thirty when we physically ended our workday. Our minds would continue on for several more hours. J.T. sat behind the wheel of our cruiser, his left fist jammed into his left eye as he tried to stay awake. We headed south on I-65, knowing our hotel was somewhere around Merrillville. Neither of us had eaten since noon on our drive to Gary, and my rumbling stomach reminded me of that. That morning, when we’d left Wisconsin, seemed like days ago. We still hadn’t stopped to take a breath. Our packed bags remained in the trunk. I wasn’t sure whether I needed to freshen up first or eat, but since I was with a man, I knew food was likely more important.
“Does this hotel have a restaurant?” I asked.
“I don’t even remember the name of the place we’re staying at.”
We looked at each other and laughed.
“I’ll check my text from Val again,” I said. “It would help to know where we’re going. Okay, that’s right, it’s the Fairfield Inn and Suites just off the freeway and Main Street. It doesn’t look like they have a restaurant, but there’s plenty right in the area. Feel like Mexican food?”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
“Okay, because there’s a Mexican restaurant across the street from the hotel. Want to check in, or eat first?”
“If we check in now, I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to get back into the car.”
“Yeah, let’s eat.”
J.T. turned right into the restaurant’s parking lot instead of left at the hotel. We exited the car and entered the warm, cozy building. The tile floor and wall decor resembled an authentic Mexican restaurant, and the wait staff whispered in Spanish among themselves. We were seated near the fireplace.
I scanned the dining room as we got comfortable. “This place is really cute.” I opened the menu and took a look. “The dinner choices look good too.”
The waitress approached our table with two glasses of water. “May I get you something to drink while you browse the menu?”
“I’ll have a Negra Modelo.”
J.T. nodded. “Make that two.”
I felt J.T.’s eyes drilling a hole through me. “What?”
“Your wheels are turning.”
“Fine, they are, but I figured you’d want to eat in peace.”
“No time for peace. Go ahead.”
“Taylor’s folks didn’t tell us much more than Corrine’s. Of course there are a few things we need to check out for ourselves, but I’m wondering why there was no mention in the police reports or from the parents as to what happened to the girls’ cars.”
“There wasn’t anything in the folders about that?”
“Nope, not a word.”
J.T. scratched his chin. “They’ve been missing for months. Where the hell can their cars be?”
“Good question, and why didn’t anyone check into it?”
J.T. sighed. “And the parents didn’t get them back?”
I shook my head then put my index finger to my lips. The waitress was returning with our beers.
“Have you decided on dinner?”
I gave her a smile. “Yes, I’ll have the enchilada plate with black beans.”
“And I’ll have the tamales with refried beans and rice.” J.T. handed the menus to the waitress, and we continued our conversation after she walked away.
I leaned across the table and spoke in a quiet voice. “Should I call the families and double-check before they go to bed?”
“Yeah, it’s important to know.”
I made the quick call to Corrine and Taylor’s parents before our food came. Both families gave me the same answer. The cars were never mentioned as being located, and they were never returned.
“That’s another thing we need to check on. What the hell happened to the cars? The vehicle description, if there is one, normally goes out with the missing persons reports, right?”
“Absolutely, and that’s how the patrol cops usually locate vehicles in some random apartment or mall parking lot.” J.T. pulled his notepad out of his inner pocket and jotted that down. He chewed on the end of his pen. “We need to talk to Bobby Lang, find out about the cars, and what else?”
“Tomorrow morning we’ll regroup with the detectives and ask why locating the missing cars was overlooked. I want to read the original missing persons reports myself and see if the cars were listed by description and plate number. Then, we have to find out exactly who they spoke to in depth, if anyone. We need to know if they’ve checked out social media pages, looked into the cult culture idea, and even find out if that type of activity is prevalent around here. Shit, we haven’t even started with Heather Francis yet. We should also see if there’s any connection between her job in the lab and the fact that the killer was draining blood through the major arteries. I want to know if the detectives have interviewed all of Heather’s coworkers yet and if anyone seems suspicious.”
J.T. jotted that down too then closed his notepad. He tipped his head to the left. “Our food is coming.”
He spread the cloth napkin over his lap as the waitress set our steaming meals in front of us. I did the same and dug in.