Lisa Gardner - Gone

“Hal Jenkins, you miserable piece of shit,” Shelly said. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t recognize your voice just ’cuz you’re calling over the police radio?”

Long silence. Then Shelly’s eyes suddenly narrowed.

“Don’t suppose you were at the local Wal-Mart this morning, Hal? Perhaps wearing a blue flannel shirt? Think real hard before you answer; we got tapes from the security cameras.”

“Ahh shit,” Hal said.

“That’s what I thought. Let me tell you about reward, Hal. I’m sending a deputy to your house right now. You’re gonna get into the back of his cruiser without making a fuss. You’re gonna come straight here and tell me face-to-face what you know about those missing people. And you’re gonna tell me everything, Hal, or I’m going to rip apart your entire property stove by stove, brick by brick. I told you yesterday we weren’t foolin’ around, and I meant it.”

“I just want some money,” Hal retorted sulkily. “Other people get reward money. I don’t see what’s so wrong with wanting that.”

“Get out on your porch, Hal. Deputy will be there anytime.”

Shelly clicked off with Hal. Then she was back with police dispatch, ordering a deputy to ferry Hal to the Wal-Mart. After that she requested the county DA’s office, where she filled the man in on Hal’s extortion attempt and requested a search warrant for his property, due to his obvious involvement in the abduction of a known member of law enforcement.

Kimberly was impressed. “I thought you were going to spare his property,” she told the sheriff.

“I lied. By the time the search warrant goes through, Hal will have already told us everything we need to know. Right about then, it’ll be nice to have a little surprise for Mr. Jenkins. Besides, I’ve been wanting to search that farm for weeks now. I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

It took nineteen minutes for Hal to arrive at the Wal-Mart. In that time, Deputy Mitchell confirmed that Hal Jenkins had been at the second pay phone when Alane Grove arrived. On the security camera tape, Grove had disappeared inside the store. Shortly thereafter, Hal drifted off-camera in the direction of the parking lot. Grove reappeared briefly by the pay phones, then also disappeared into the parking lot. She never appeared on camera again.

“No camera angles of the parking lot?” Shelly asked grumpily.

“The only exterior cameras monitor the front of the store, plus the entrance to the parking lot,” said Mitchell. “In the good-news department, we have clear footage of every vehicle that entered the parking lot this morning, including license plates. In the bad-news department, it’s gonna take some time to cross-reference all those vehicles, plus it wouldn’t include anyone arriving on foot.”

“We’ll take what we got. Let’s get the footage to Kincaid for delivery to the state crime lab. Someone’s gonna work a lot of hours tonight.”

Shelly was back on the radio to dispatch. Kimberly took the opportunity to call her father.

“How are you?” she asked quietly, moving away from the squawk of the police radio, the overexcited chaos of chattering onlookers, the constant thrum of the news chopper hovering overhead.

“We’re in trouble,” Quincy answered bluntly.

“We may have gotten a break. We know who was at the second pay phone. And he says he has information on Rainie and Dougie.”

“The subject should be on the phone demanding money,” Quincy told her. “He’s not even pretending anymore.”

“Mac said there was a photo on the news. It proves that Rainie and Dougie were alive this morning.”

“It proves Dougie is alive. Rainie is in the background of the photo. Lying down. Eyes closed. I know, I’m looking at the photo right now.”

Kimberly pressed the phone closer to her head, her other hand flattened against her ear to block the background noise. Her father’s voice was low, not at all like him. She could feel his anxiety in the flat tones, the heaviness of his despair.

A police cruiser arrived, tooting its horn as it muscled its way through the crowd. Kimberly had a glimpse of a man sitting in the back, hunched shoulders, scruffy cheeks, a blue flannel shirt.

“Hal Jenkins is here,” she informed Quincy. “Give me fifteen minutes, I’ll call you back.”

“You’re still wearing the GPS transmitter?” her father asked abruptly.

Kimberly frowned. “Yeah. Why?”

“I want you to promise me you won’t take it off.”

“You’re scaring me, Dad.”

“I’m trying to. We haven’t paid the subject one red cent. But if he did kidnap Detective Grove-”

“He just scored seven grand.”

“It’s something to think about,” her father said.

Then Hal Jenkins was getting out of the police cruiser, Shelly was waving her over, and Kimberly had to shut her phone, feeling even worse about the day ahead.

Wednesday, 11:35 a.m. PST

HAL JENKINS WASN ’T A FRIENDLY GUY. And clearly, he had issues with Sheriff Atkins.

“Touch my place, I won’t tell you a damn thing,” he said by way of greeting.

“Now, Hal, a promise is a promise.”

“Bullshit, I want that in writing.”

Shelly yawned, gave Hal a droll look, then issued a negligent shrug. “Well, Hal, if that will make you happy…” She waved Deputy Mitchell over. He produced a spiral notepad and pen. Shelly made a big show of writing, I, Sheriff Shelly Atkins, do solemnly promise not to search the premises owned by one Hal Jenkins, of Tillamook County, in the understanding that he will cooperate fully in disclosing what he knows about missing persons Lorraine Conner, Douglas Jones, and Detective Alane Grove. Shelly signed it with great flourish.

Hal scowled at her. “Who’s Alane Grove?”

Shelly paused for the first time. “Why don’t you first tell me what you know about Rainie Conner and Dougie Jones?” she said.

“Wait a minute. Was that the girl who showed up at the pay phone? The one with the duffel bag? I thought she moved like a cop!” And then, eyes going a little wild, “Well, shit, you’re not pinning that on me, are you? I don’t know nothing ’bout her. Saw her, thought it was strange to carry a duffel bag into a superstore, and then boom, she was gone and I was on my merry way.”

“Why were you at the pay phones, Hal?”

“I like my privacy.”

“So you’re using a public phone?”

“Hey, we all got our little, what do you call them, fetishes.”

Shelly chewed on the inside of her cheek and looked like she was contemplating slugging her informant. “So you were at the phone.”

“Yep.”

“Made a call?”

“Maybe.”

“Remember, Hal, we have grounds to pull the records.”

Hal appeared crestfallen again.

“Yeah, these missing people,” Shelly said dryly, “they’re really fucking with your life.”

“Don’t swear. You’re a lady. Ladies shouldn’t swear.”

“Why, Hal, you’re making me positively googly-eyed. Tell me about your phone call.”

“The phone call doesn’t matter,” Hal said abruptly, seeming to have reached some sort of conclusion with himself. “What matters is that I dropped my quarter.”

“You dropped your quarter?”

“Yep. And when I reached down to pick it up, I saw what was taped to the bottom of the phone.”

“Talk a little faster, Hal. We don’t exactly got all day.”

Hal had enough of talking, however. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a battered white envelope. He held it in front of him, dangling it like a prize. “I’ll give you my note if you’ll give me yours.”

Shelly immediately handed over her signed pledge not to search Hal’s farm. Hal handed her the discolored envelope.