“She would if she felt time was of the essence and no one answered her calls, but I don’t think she’d put herself in danger. For all I know she saw it on her way to do wedding stuff and was just calling it in. Her phone is either dead or turned off. Either way, I need to track her down.”
“Come on,” Coil said. “I’ll call in a team.”
“No, your guys are stretched thin as it is. I don’t want to take them away from their assignments until we have proof. Just drop me at my car, and I’ll do a drive-by and see if I can confirm a hearse. It’ll be dark soon, so I need to get moving. I’ll keep you on speed dial just in case.”
Coil shook his head. “If you say so, buddy. But if you find that hearse, I want to get a team out there before you decide to be a hero.”
“Hey, I am a hero,” Hank said, trying to lighten the mood. “Agatha tells me I’m her hero all the time.”
Hank had parked his car at the opposite end of the block from the sheriff’s office to avoid getting trapped in, and he bid Coil farewell as he hopped out of the pickup truck and went to his Beemer. He plugged the address into his GPS and headed toward the highway.
The GPS seemed confused by the roads and construction, and he ended up on an access road that wound like a snake up to the top of a hill. He had no idea if he was going the right direction.
His phone rang, and his heart jumped at the possibility it might be Agatha, but it was Heather’s name that came across the screen.
“What’s up, Heather?” he asked. “I can’t talk long.”
“I was trying to get hold of Agatha,” she said. “Her phone is going directly to voicemail, but I need to get in touch with her. I managed to get us scheduled for the works tomorrow at my salon.”
“I’m looking for her now,” he said. “She sent me a text to look at something out on Bison Road.”
“Oh, that’s the old meatpacking plant,” Heather said. “I told her I saw a hearse out there earlier today, and she took off like a chicken with her head cut off.”
“You’re saying Agatha was heading out to find the hearse?”
“Yep,” she said.
“How long ago was that?” Hank asked.
“I don’t know. A couple hours maybe.”
Hank hung up the phone and pressed the gas a little harder, and then he slammed on the brakes when he got to the top of the hill. There was Agatha’s Jeep parked on the side of the road, and Agatha was nowhere to be found. And directly below him outside the meatpacking plant was the hearse every cop in the entire county had been looking for.
He dialed Coil and waited for him to pick up. “I need a team,” Hank said as soon as Coil answered. “I think Aggie’s in trouble. The hearse is here, and Agatha’s Jeep is here, but I don’t see her anywhere.”
“I’ll see what units are in the area and get a team together,” Coil said. “I’m on my way now. Stay put until we get there.”
Hank gave a vague hmm so he didn’t have to lie to his friend, and they disconnected. He backed up and pulled to the side of the road so he could park behind Agatha, and then he got out and started looking for anything that would lead him to her.
From the top of the hill he could still see the highway, but he realized how secluded the area around the plant really was. There were no homes or businesses. Just wide-open land and what looked like a quarry off to the side of the plant. He got his binoculars out of the trunk and got a closer look. Not a quarry. It looked like…bones.
He scanned the area around the hearse, but it was getting too dark to see anything of consequence. He was going to have to look with his own eyes. He tossed the binoculars back in the car and made sure his phone was on silent. He didn’t have a bulletproof vest or anything for protection. Only the weapon at his side.
Before he made the trek down the hill, he searched inside Agatha’s Jeep with his flashlight. No phone, and no signs of struggle or blood that he could see. Agatha was smart. She was alive and well. He had to believe that.
Hank stayed to the tree cover as he made his way down the hill to an old chain-link fence that was overgrown with vines and shrubs. There was just enough light left so he could see one foot in front of the other, but if he delayed he was going to be stuck in complete darkness with no sense of direction.
There had to be an opening in the fence somewhere. There weren’t easily accessible options for entry inside the gated area unless someone drove directly to the front of the plant. He was sure this was the way Agatha would’ve taken.
He moved vines and branches, searching for a tear in the fence large enough for him to fit through. But then he saw the opening a few yards down. That was it. There was no place else she could’ve gone through.
The rusted chain link caught on his shirt and pants as he tried to slip through, and the fabric tore as he muscled his way out of the tangled web. Agatha was quite a bit smaller than he was, so she’d probably slipped through with no problems. His shoe crunched down on something solid, and what sounded like glass cracking had him lifting his foot gently.
He crouched down and felt along the ground until his fingers touched a cell phone. He recognized the case. It was Agatha’s. His heart started pounding a little harder, and he looked around, praying she’d be right there.
His vision was slowly acclimating to the darkness, and he could clearly see the expanse of open incline that led down to the hearse. His cell phone was buzzing in his pocket and he knew it was Coil.
Fury enveloped him at the thought of Agatha putting herself in danger. What had she been thinking?
The darkness played to his advantage, and as long as the moon stayed behind the clouds he had a shot at making it across the long expanse of loose rocks without being seen. Hank stayed low and shuffled down the incline, sliding on rocks and skinning his hands and knees in the process. He was soaked in sweat, and the closer he got to the hearse the worse the smell became.
He was in the final stretch of his destination and he paused long enough to grab his weapon and catch his breath. He’d never been so glad he’d been keeping up his workouts at the gym. Every muscle in his body was aching.
Hank moved in a low-crouched position toward the hearse, and stifled a grunt when something tangled around his legs and caused him to fall forward on his hands. He kept hold of his weapon, but his other hand took the brunt of the fall, and he knew the skin was shredded from the rocks.
He stayed motionless, listening for sounds that indicated his cover had been blown, and then he untangled the garment from around his feet. It was a long-sleeved shirt—one he recognized belonging to Agatha.
He looked from the shirt to the hearse and inhaled the smell of death, and then he prayed like he’d never prayed before that he wasn’t about to find Agatha dead.
He made himself move, flinging himself toward the hearse and skidding to a halt by the back tire. The smell made his eyes water, and flies buzzed around him, agitated he’d disturbed their scavenging.
He took out a small penlight from his pocket and cupped his hand around it, sticking it through the broken window so he could see inside the hearse. Then he let out a sigh of relief when he realized it wasn’t Agatha, but the man Hazel had shot.
His cell phone buzzed again in his pocket and he looked around the wide-open space and then back toward the cover of trees and the jagged drop-off that led to the bone yard. Agatha was still out there somewhere. She could be injured. He had to find her.