The detective shook his head. “Mr. Sullivan, even if we had a suspect, which we don’t, I certainly wouldn’t release a name—the last thing we need here is a band of vigilantes.”
That was definitely the wrong answer. Even Hailey knew that.
There was an audible silence followed by another explosion.
Dale yelled cuss word combinations that made her blush; Skeet shook his fist; Pix grabbed a cast iron argument ender off the stove and held it high; Johnny threatened to kill the detective with his bare hands, and Wimp sipped his coffee, but with a white-knuckled grip on his mug.
Detective Toll seemed remarkably unruffled by all this. He gently patted the air with both hands.
“We will continue to use every resource available to find Holly. When we have new information, I will tell you, and—” He stopped when he finally noticed Hailey standing against the wall, and everyone turned to look at her.
It was like a bucket of ice water had hit her uncles. They immediately straightened up and adjusted their language to “lady-friendly.” No more swearing. No more yelling. It was a whole new crowd in there.
“Hailey,” said Pix in his fatherly voice, “come and meet Detective Toll. He’s heading up the search for Holly.”
Uncle Pix turned to the detective. “Detective Toll, my niece, Hailey…Holly’s sister.”
She didn’t realize she was trembling until she reached to shake his hand.
“Hello, Hailey,” he said politely, and she swallowed hard. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like you to come down to the station with me and tell me about your sister…maybe look through some photos?”
“Of course,” she said, nodding. Finding Holly was the only thing on her to-do list.
“That’s my Hailey,” said Uncle Pix proudly. “She’s a right strong young lady. Smart too. She could probably tell yeh the exact time Holly stepped out the door and the exact weight of the bag she was carrying.”
Five fifty-eight pm and just under twenty pounds. She had looked at the clock over the door as Holly passed under it and had helped her stuff mostly paper into the bag with just a few scrapings from dinner and one broken plate.
Hailey followed Detective Toll outside to his car, which had a radio, a computer, a printer, a notebook, and a shotgun all mounted in the front seat. His lunch, coffee cup, gym bag, and some papers were piled on the passenger seat. Hailey had to slide his stuff over and be careful not to sit or step on anything when she got in.
Good thing I’m small, she thought as she closed the door.
“I’m sorry,” said Toll. He rushed to move some things out of her way. “I should’ve moved this stuff earlier.”
Grabbing up a stack of folders, he looked around for a place to put them, which he wasn’t going to find inside that car.
“Here, hold these,” he said, handing them to her.
Hailey took them without a fuss, setting them on her lap. She didn’t really know what to say to a detective, so she just held on to his folders and looked out the window while they drove. Over and over, she picked up her sister’s shoe in her mind, and as the scenery sped past, over and over she searched her memory for the critical clue that would lead her straight to Holly.
“Is one of these Holly’s file?” she asked, surprising herself.
“They’re… all… Holly’s files.”
Hailey looked down at them.
“All of this?”
Toll glanced at the files, pressed his lips together, and sighed without answering.
He was holding something back. And if he was going to keep secrets, she was just going to find out for herself, so she opened the folder on the top of the pile and started reading.
“You told Uncle Pix you didn’t have any information,” she said as she scanned the pages.
There was a ton of information—measurements from skid marks left in the parking lot, which they’d matched to a specific tire and wheel base. That narrowed their pool of suspect vehicles to seven possible models, three of which weren’t even registered in the tri-state area.
“I told him I didn’t have any suspects,” he clarified.
“You lied.” There were three names on a page labeled “Suspects.”
