They looked at her oddly as she put the car in park. Climbing out boldly where she hadn’t been invited, Joule closed the door behind her as if to punctuate that she wasn’t afraid.
Trying to look casual, she scanned all the faces in front of her, not seeing Salvador Torres at all. The one she paid attention to was Gretchen Mueller. And there wasn’t a flicker of recognition from the woman.
Wonderful.
“My friend told me to come here if I wanted to help?” Joule lifted the tone at the end, making it into a question as she held her hands up. “I didn't bring anything with me. But I can next time.”
“Don't worry about it.” One of the young women said and then looked her up and down. “You’re at least dressed pretty well for it.”
“Am I?”
The woman nodded. “You blend in.”
Interesting Joule thought. When they went out searching before, she had wanted to stand out. Be different from the sand and brush. Make sure anything that was out here could see them and see that they were no trouble. She’d chosen this clothing tonight simply because it was lightweight. The lighter color was to reflect the heat of the day, and the length was enough to cover her for the cool of the night.
Most of the workers—or maybe volunteers—hung back, seeming to go about their own business. They searched in the trunks of the cars and opened huge coolers, pulling items out and sorting things from one bag to another. Most of the bags they filled were just pale-colored, used grocery store plastic. The people sorted items into them and tied the tops into knots before setting them aside.
One guy had brought a reasonably thick dowel rod, and he strung his bags along it to make for easier carrying.
Smart, Joule thought. But her watching and cataloging what was actually happening at one of these gatherings was interrupted by one of the women who had been standing with Gretchen Mueller.
“Who told you about us?” There was a tone underneath that let Joule know that the woman was worried.
“Oh.” She smiled and tried to sound casual again. “My friend told me about this a couple of weeks ago. She said she came out with you guys a bit. Youngish—my age—woman. African American. Wears her hair in a ponytail pulled back. Tara.”
“Sarah,” Gretchen Mueller corrected immediately.
Joule couldn't help the way her eyes flicked to the woman's face.
Small crow's feet at the edge of blue eyes widened as she realized what she'd done. She did know Sarah. Joule had baited her for exactly that. She waited until Gretchen spoke again.
“You're looking for Sarah.” It wasn't a question or an accusation. It just hung there, somewhere between them until the light desert wind blew it away.
Joule couldn't fight it anymore. She swallowed hard and nodded. “She's my friend and she’s been missing for two weeks now.”
The two women both nodded and Joule realized they'd caught the attention of the other people in the group. The young man that had been stringing his bags on the dowel stepped forward. “Do you have any idea where she is?”
“Not really,” Joule said. “A bunch of us have been out looking for her though. About a week ago my brother and Sarah's mother were taken, too.”
“Fuck!” the woman next to Gretchen said, turning around as her hand flew up to her mouth. Gretchen reached out putting a soft hand on the woman's arm. As if there were any comfort for this kind of thing. Joule didn’t offer any since it would be false. “That's what we were afraid of.”
“Does it happen often?” Joule asked.
The women shook their heads, but one of the younger men stepped forward. “We have to define often.”
His friend, a caramel haired young woman who could have been a high school student told Joule, “Three years ago, one of the other group members went missing. And more than one of the sets of people we've run into have said that they had people stolen.”
The man nodded, picking up the thread. “They get surrounded and, if they're lucky, some of them get away.”
That sounded about right, Joule thought. “We looked at the footprints and that seems to be what happened to my brother and Mrs. Walker.”
After that, the dark night air went deathly silent, only the moon lighting the space between them. No one had anything else to offer her.
“But I am here to help tonight.” Joule then added her other hopefully bonus information. “I spoke with Salvador Torres, and he told me a little bit about it.”
“He's not on tonight,” Gretchen said. Joule only nodded, having figured that out for herself already.
“We go out most every night,” Joule volunteered, then wondered immediately why she’d said it. She could only hope it worked for the best.
The dark-haired woman standing next to Gretchen opened her mouth to answer but Gretchen's hand came out as if to hold the words back.
“Who's we?”
Joule took a deep breath. “We've been working with Jacob McQueeny from the Maverick County Sheriff's Department.” She did not add in his sister was DEA, that his mother was ATF, and another sister was a criminology professor who was also working the case . . . If the slow grind they had halted to could be called working. But maybe Gretchen would recognize the last name?
If she did, she didn’t say it. She just grumbled, “The DEA doesn't like us.”
“I got the impression that it's otherwise,” Joule countered, once again, opening her mouth before even thinking about it. She had to remember these people might not be her friends.
“I've been arrested four times,” Gretchen pointed out.
Joule immediately added, “And you've been released four times. With no charges.”
The others nodded along. It was Gretchen who stepped forward.
“How do you know that?”
Joule took a deep breath as she looked at Gretchen Mueller. What would this woman do to her? What bad decisions had Joule made on not enough sleep and not enough food? She should never have played that card.
But it was too late now.
She should have told Ivy and Kayla at least where she was going. They were on the road. They wouldn't have been able to stop her. But at least someone would have known where to start looking for her . . .