“Hello, Mrs. Randall? My name is Quinlan Moynahan, I’m with The Observer in Altoona. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. I was wondering if you might have a few moments to speak to me in person tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t been giving interviews. “What would you like to know?”
“I’ve been covering the disappearance of Sandy Cranston, Barbie Martin, and now your daughter for the paper. We don’t know if the cases are connected, but we’ve discovered that both Sandy and Barbie grew up in Altoona. By any chance does your family have ties to Altoona as well?”
“We have family there,” she said. “Distant family that we rarely see. I don’t believe Heather has ever met them.”
“So, then she wouldn’t have had a reason to come to Altoona?” Quinn asked.
“No. I don’t believe she was ever there. Unless she passed through on a school field trip or when she played sports and they traveled from town to town.”
“I see. I am going to be doing a couple of feature articles on each of the missing women for my paper. It would help if I could talk with you and ask a few questions about her, and if you have a few photos you’d like to share of her to personalize the article. I will send them back. I’d like to make my readers understand that these are not just names of people who have gone missing, but daughters that mean everything to their parents.”
“Thank you for wanting to do that, but I believe they’re going to find her. It hasn’t been that long,” Mrs. Randall said.
“Who is it, Sara?” a male voice said.
“A reporter from Altoona. She wants to do a story on Heather. She’s asking to come visit us.”
A man came on the line. “Listen, we just want to be left alone.”
“We think we know who did it. I’ve seen a picture of her ring that was taken, don’t you want to help bring him to justice?”
“The Lewistown PD are working on it,” he said.
“Bruce, listen to her,” Sara pleaded.
“We have an FBI agent who has started a special task force to find the other two women, he’ll be wanting to talk to you and your wife eventually,” Quinn said. “His name is Agent Keaton Street. Do you even know whether the Lewistown PD had a sketch artist do a drawing of the three guys that kept coming and sitting in Heather’s section at the brewery before she went missing?”
“I’m hanging up now,” he said.
“Bruce, wait. Do we know whether they did that?” Sara said.
“Having a drawing of the guys would be such a help. If we can identify one of them then it could lead to identifying who may be responsible for Sandy and Barbie going missing.”
“You’re trying to get my wife’s hopes up. You need to stop this.”
“You have my number on your caller ID,” she said before the line went dead. “Damn.”
She had no idea if she accomplished anything with her call or not. All she knew was that Bruce Randall was bitter, and he didn’t like talking to the press. He didn’t want to get his wife’s hopes up. More importantly, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. And who would blame him?
A knock came from the adjoining door and she went over and unlocked it, allowing Grimm to enter her room.
He smiled. “I see you have one just like mine.”
“What did you expect? That my room would be classier than yours just because I’m a female?”
“Not really, but sometimes places will decorate a little differently when rooms join one another, to compliment the other.”
“Sorry to disappoint you there,” she said. “Shall we consider dinner? I’ve just had a run-in with the Randalls on the phone. I don’t think we’ll be talking with them tomorrow as I had hoped.”
“That stinks.”
“Mr. Randall vehemently opposed.”
“Look at it from his perspective. His daughter has only been missing a few days. I’m sure you’re not the only reporter who has been calling them up wanting an interview. Families in these situations usually just want their privacy,” Grimm said.
“I know, but even when I told them I had seen her ring and we might know who had done it, he couldn’t get off the phone fast enough,” Quinn said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was guilty.”
