When local PD arrived at the rest stop the next day, the receiver on the pay phone she’d used still dangled from the box, and two of the number keys were missing—the three and the nine—although no one who worked at the rest stop could tell investigators whether the phone had been tampered with before or after the call. It took them an hour to find Toni’s body, her throat sliced from the base of her chin to the dip in her collarbones and her skin flayed open. They never did find the tip of her tongue—or any scrap of a lead on who had killed her. But Martin knew the blame was his to bear.
Martin half believed it was fate that had drawn him morbidly back to Tarson, but whether fate was shining a beacon of guidance or telling him to run like hell was a mystery. He’d wanted to shake the satellite images he’d memorized of two-lane roads crisscrossing the scar of mountains. But he saw them when he closed his eyes, a pattern seared into his mind’s eye like looking too long at the sun. He did know this much: the past would always nip at his heels if he stayed in this line of work. So he took the job.
Martin bent over his computer, the burn of memories rekindling his motivation, and as he brought up the browser to check chat rooms Toni had once frequented, the department tip line chirped. It was the number citizens used to call in nonemergency situations and tips for older cases. Captain Barrow took the call from the master phone on his desk. Martin studied the older man through the glass. His expression didn’t change as he jotted down a note before hanging up the phone. Then he emerged from his office, his eyes squinting with the shift in light from his dim room into the blue wash of the fluorescent lights overhead, and walked to Stanton’s desk.
“Run this plate for me,” he said. “Call was about some creep in a van. Digits look familiar.”
Stanton took the paper. His brow lifted. “Don’t have to look it up, Captain. That’s Eddie Stevens’s van.”
“Christ.” Captain massaged his temples. “Should’ve known. It’s been a year coming up soon.”
“Today, Cap. A year today,” Stanton said, his voice dropping off. “Should we go check on him?”
“No. We’re the last people that man wants to see today,” Barrow responded, showing the first signs of softness Martin had seen since meeting him. “He can spend all day in that parking lot if it suits him,” he said, and returned to his office.
Martin turned off the computer screen and strode to Stanton’s desk. “Who is Eddie Stevens?” he asked.
EDDIE Chapter 6 | 5:00 PM, December 1, 2006 | Tarson, Georgia
EDDIE CLOSED THE BACK COVER on Hazel’s journal. He could probably recite every entry by now. He hadn’t found anything new. At least the passages about Hazel’s love of music brought him bittersweet joy. When she described learning something new, her handwriting would get bigger and loopy. She’d doodled notes in the margins.
She described her devastation when her regular chorus teacher went on medical leave. Then in one entry, she’d marked the date with stars and wrote: The vocal coach from the Music Box is our new chorus sub! He asked me to stay after class and told me I AM MORE TALENTED THAN ANYONE HE HAS EVER MET BEFORE. He said he’s going to help me after school free of charge and push himself to be the teacher I need to bring out the music inside.
Mixed emotions passed through Eddie as he remembered hearing that news. He’d initially suspected something ill-intentioned from the coach, but he was reluctant to refuse the offer. Hazel hadn’t made any friends and had sunk deeper and deeper inside herself. If this was a way to bring her back out, he owed it to her to try. Eddie had sat in on their first meeting. The coach, Jonathon Walks, was calm and soft-spoken. He had immediately agreed to Eddie’s request that Hazel’s meetings never take place in an empty building or behind a closed door. Hazel was also a no-nonsense type of girl and would’ve told Eddie the moment she thought something was off with Mr. Walks.
Eddie wondered about him now. Jonathon had joined the search effort, even taking time out of work to help comb the woods and pass out flyers. He kept looking long after the police had stopped. When he took a temp job in Dalton, he had given Eddie his phone number and asked him to please call with any news of Hazel. But there had been no news.
The patter of light rain against his windshield made Eddie look up. He glanced from the rain to his clock. It had already been an hour. If he’d done this last year, Hazel might still be with him. They could be on that hike together right now. Then again, even if he’d waited in the parking lot, whatever happened that day had happened behind the wall of trees separating the parking lot from the woods.
This is stupid Waiting in a car isn’t going to do a damn thing.
He exhaled, closing his eyes. He should’ve spent the time on the trail.
He drew the collar of his jacket close around his neck and pulled his hat snug against his bald scalp. It had rained that day, too. How cold had Hazel gotten? Had she been wearing enough clothes? She hated the cold. As soon as the temperature dipped below seventy, she lived in her long black coat and boots. The girl would wear three scarves at once.
Eddie pulled off his hat and shoved it in the console. It didn’t seem right to strive for warmth when Hazel could be out there, cold and wet. He knew it was silly to think she was still in these woods. The only reason she’d still be there would be that she was dead. Eddie wondered if that was what he was trying to make himself see.
The dark of evening moved in with no courtship, and without warning, the world in front of him was all shadows. He gently stowed Hazel’s belongings and the case file in the floor of his van and tucked his gun under his seat before turning over the ignition. The engine begrudgingly came to life. Eddie stared down the trailhead once more, then put the van in reverse. He switched on his headlights. As he made the turn, they caught on the silver sedan parked on the opposite side of the lot. He stopped the van. The lady must still be out there.
He swung his gaze back in the direction of the trail. He could tell he’d spooked her. And why wouldn’t he? Since Hazel vanished, Eddie had learned how different a female’s reality was than a male’s. When a man walked to the store, his biggest worry was he’d forget something. A woman’s biggest worry was that she might not make it home. He thought he’d understood that difference before Hazel went missing. He’d taught Hazel basic self-defense and little tricks like how to get out of zip ties. He thought it had been enough. But she was barely five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet.
The blond woman was taller than Hazel but just as thin.
What if she’s waiting for me to leave before she comes out?
The reasoning seemed solid to him, and he let his foot off the brake, rolling toward the two-lane road.
But what if she’s not?
He braked again and put the van in park where it was, and then stepped out. Rain blew sideways in a gust of wind, pelting his exposed skin and sliding down his neck.
“Hello?” he called out, shielding his eyes. “Miss?” He waited, trying to listen through the storm. “If you’re out there, I’m leaving now. Will you just shout or something so I know you’re okay?”
Eddie waited. The wind wailed. He moved closer to the mouth of the trail. “Hello?” he shouted. He could barely hear himself. There was no way she’d hear him. He couldn’t leave without knowing she was okay. She hadn’t had on a pack of any sort. Just running clothes. Not even a bottle of water.