As Hailey opened the binder, a television mounted to the ceiling in the corner of the lobby blared the morning news, which began with the channel logo flipping around on the screen with some bonging drums and a few dramatic notes from a shrieking horn. Enter the perfectly coiffed and annoyingly chipper morning news anchor.
Her voice was hard to ignore, and Hailey winced when she introduced their top story.
“Good morning. First up, a gruesome discovery in the parking lot of a local business last night has residents on edge, and just in this morning—asecondlocal woman missing in as many days. Melissa has more.”
Hailey leaned forward, breathless.
“That’s right, Megan, you’ll recall that workers at the Hullachan Irish Pub, a favorite watering hole for many in this area, found the bloody shoe of one of their waitresses in the pub’s parking lot last night. Since then, no one has seen or heard from the owner of that shoe—Holly Hartley. And this morning, another 19-year-old girl—vanished. The search for both South Side women continues. Take a listen.”
The video cut to an interview with a woman wearing a suit and a badge, which hung from a lanyard around her neck.
“At this point, we have no reason to believe the two incidents are related—”
“That statement from the Pittsburgh Police only adds to the intrigue surrounding these vanishings.”
Hailey was nauseous.
She felt like a four-year-old, plugging her ears with her fingers in the middle of a police department, but she couldn’t bear to hear anymore.
Another girl missing?
Staring at the mugshots in her lap, she listened to herself breathe. She counted twenty-seven intentionally loud breaths before Detective Toll finally poked his head into the lobby and motioned her in.
“Sorry about that,” he said, holding the door for her.
“Was it something to do with Holly? Or this other girl that’s missing?” Hailey pointed to the TV.
“No,” he sighed as he led her through the squad room. “News can’t get anything right. This otherdisappearancethey’re chasing is a 21-year-old known drug user with a history of near-fatal ODs. She’s probably passed out in a motel again.”
“Oh.” Did that mean they weren’t looking for this other girl? Hailey wasn’t sure if she felt more compassion for the drug user or relief that the police weren’t diverting any energy from their search for Holly.
“Anyone look familiar?” He pointed at the binder.
Hailey shook her head.
Leading her into his office, Toll motioned her to a chair facing his desk, which was a good old-fashioned mess, piled with papers and photos and folders and notebooks with yellow sticky notes everywhere.
He sat down and blew his cheeks full of air.
“So tell me about last night.”
“I already told the officer last night—there…it was…” Hailey sighed, her mind racing, her heart keeping pace. She shook her leg but resisted the urge to bite her thumbnail as she filled him in on everything from stuffing papers into the trash with Holly to preparing to dance.
“And then Mrs. Lash walked into the bar with Holly’s cell phone—” Why hadn’t she thought of this before? “Maybe Mrs. Lash saw who took Holly!”
Toll shook his head. “She didn’t.”
Hailey’s shoulders fell. “Where do you think she is?”
She wanted to know what he knew. She wanted him to tell her exactly when Holly would come home. She wanted him to say that they knew where she was, that she was safe and sound and just waiting for the police to come and pick her up and bring her home.
He said none of that.
“I don’t know, Hailey.” He frowned. “We’re working on it.”
“What have you got so far?”
“Not much. We’ve got a timeline and some physical evidence, as you know.”
