“I suppose. Anyway, we ended up taking the car to the Volkswagen dealer so I don’t really know anything about Garage on Division.”
“Interesting that the rumor was they might be closing. Troy said they were busy,” A.L. said. “Although being busy and making money in a small business aren’t the same thing. Anyway, what else do we know?”
“Tension between Elaine and her son-in-law.”
“Not that unusual,” A.L. said.
“Perhaps,” Rena said. “Hence the abundance of mother-in-law jokes.”
“Speaking of family, I think we need to verify that Kara Wiese’s husband is at work today,” A.L. said.
“Agree. And there are three teachers we haven’t talked with yet.”
“One of who was ill today. That’s why Alice Quest was working in a classroom.”
“Right. And there’s the cook who comes in for a few hours every day.”
He saw a black Suburban pull up and park. Two men got out. Both wore dark suits and white shirts. One had a blue tie and the other a red.
FBI. They might as well be carrying a placard. They stopped at the door, spoke to the officer, flashed some badges and then were through the doorway.
“Detective A.L. McKittridge,” he said, extending his hand.
“Special Agents Drew White and Monty Connell.” They flashed their IDs.
Drew White had the blue tie. Up close, he was at least ten years older than Monty Connell. A.L. guessed them fifty and forty, respectively. “My partner, Detective Rena Morgan,” he said.
Everybody shook hands. “We talked to your boss on the way here. I think we’re up to speed, assuming nothing new has happened in the last ten minutes,” White said.
“Nope,” A.L. said. Other than he’d become pretty convinced that somebody was lying.
“We’ve got our canine unit en route. They’re about fifteen minutes behind us.”
“We’ve got a sweater of Emma Whitman’s from her classroom,” Rena said.
White nodded. “Good.”
Connell was looking around. “These the only two doors in the building?”
“Yes.”
“Parents have both checked their phones? What about a home phone?” Connell asked.
A.L. wanted to tell him that this wasn’t his first rodeo but he resisted. The FBI had resources that they were going to need. Their heat-signature-seeking drones might be very helpful. “No home phone. They are continually monitoring their cell phones.”
“Anybody been to their home, just in case the little girl somehow got back there?” White asked.
“Mother left here about ten minutes ago to sit tight there. Should arrive any minute. We’ve got an officer with her who will search the property,” A.L. said. “Same thing will happen at the grandmother’s house and at the day care teacher’s house.” He saw a white van pull up. “That belong to you?”
White nodded. “Our canine unit.”
“Unfortunately, we’re losing the daylight,” Connell said. “We’ve got about two hundred flashlights with us but at a certain point, it can simply get too dangerous to have volunteers searching in the dark.”
“Volunteers are gathering on the east side of the building,” Rena said, looking at her phone. “Detective Ferguson is in charge of that effort. I can walk you out there and introduce you.”
“That’s fine,” said White. “Bring the kid’s sweater.”
Three
Volunteers were continuing to pour into the makeshift check-in station that Ferguson had set up. From the big window in the main room, A.L. and Rena watched their fellow detective bring some order to the group. Older people. Teens. Middle-aged. Most of them had likely been getting dinner ready or were already eating when the Amber Alert had hit their phones. By the looks of it, that hadn’t slowed them down any. He could practically imagine the wheels churning in their heads. Things like this didn’t happen in Baywood. And they were going to do what they could to make it right.
They’d had to beach their cars at either end of the street and walk in because barricades closed the street to everybody but local traffic. On any other day that many people would generate some noise. Now nobody was talking. Just quietly following directions and waiting patiently to be told what to do. Disbelief etched on their faces.
A.L. knocked softly on the office door. Alice was behind her desk. Just sitting. Her hands folded and resting on the lacquered wood. “In my wildest dreams,” she said.
She’d never imagined this. He took one chair in front of her desk and Rena took the other. “We have a few more questions,” he said.
“It’s really just a nightmare,” Alice said.
Crazy. Terrifying. Now a nightmare. The descriptors were mounting up. He badly wanted somebody to walk in the front door, saying words like miracle or maybe even dream come true. Yeah, that would be good. He’d even be happy if it was one of the FBI guys crowing that it was a dream come true to have Emma back safe and sound.
But until that happened, he was going to work the damn case. “I wanted to ask you about the teacher who was absent today.” In the ten minutes that he and Rena had strategized before knocking on Alice’s door, they’d agreed that talking to that teacher had to be a priority.
“Olivia Blow,” Alice said.
“She miss a lot of work?” Rena asked.
Alice shook her head. “None of my staff misses much work, which is a testament to their dedication. Kids come to day care with all kinds of bugs and teachers do catch some of them. But mostly they manage to power through it.”
“But Olivia didn’t power through today. What was wrong with her?” A.L. asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t actually get a chance to talk to her. She sent a text late last night, around midnight. Said she wouldn’t be in.”
“So she knew last night?” Rena said. “That she’d be sick this morning.”
“I do think that’s how it works sometimes,” Alice said.
She might be right, A.L. thought. But then again. “When’s the last time Olivia Blow missed a day of work?”
Alice turned her chair so that she could open the cabinet behind her desk. She pulled out a manila folder. Turned the cover back. Ran her finger down and across what appeared to be a spreadsheet. “Actually, this is the first day that she’s missed.”
“How long has she worked here?” Rena asked.