Unless the body had been exhumed. His mouth filled with bitter bile. Had a stiff, reeking corpse been plucked from the earth, and hauled away?
That was preposterous. Nobody in their right mind would dig up a body. But there were plenty of reasons to bury one.
Jack marked the spot on his map and returned to the car park just as the sun set behind the mountains, casting the sky violet and maudlin.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
“Anybody gone missing around here lately?”Jack asked the gas station clerk as he handed over the money for his hot dog. This time, it was extra wrinkly and smelled like battery acid and salt.
The clerk paused, change clinking into the drawer as he slowly raised his gaze to meet Jack’s. “That’s an odd question.”
“I thought I heard a rumor. Just wondering if I should keep an eye out while I’m here.”
The clerk rubbed his greying sideburns thoughtfully. “Check the bulletin board back by the bathrooms. Anyone missing’ll be posted there.”
“Thanks,” said Jack, who had no intention of taking his hot dog any closer to the bathroom than necessary. He’d seen the horrors congealing beyond that steel door and had no desire to revisit them.
The next morning, he returned to the gas station. For once, cars lined up at the pump.
Oh. Business wasmuchimproved in the morning. Anyone who worked outside of town would need to leave around this time. Anyone headed home after a vacation would seek an early start.
He walked slowly, watching as people stopped to fuel their cars, taking stock of all the individuals he’d never seen. Mostlybusinessmen who probably worked in the neighboring city. A station wagon towing a boat pulled in behind a truck loaded with lumber. A woman waited beside a cherry-red convertible. Blonde-haired and well-dressed, she reminded him of someone who might introduce a case inStaringDown the Barrel—theft or embezzlement, probably. Her gaze followed him into the gas station. The hair on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably.
Jack had carefully counted his money last night and determined that he had enough to buy a cup of coffee, a second muffin, and still have change leftover for his nightly hot dog.
At some point, he should probably look into alternative dining options. A hot dog a day couldn’t be good for him, even if this day had no lasting consequences. Besides, he was tired of the sensation of old rubber between his teeth.
But right now, he had other plans.
He spent a long time perusing the bulletin board by the bathroom, stepping out of the way and apologizing profusely every time someone tried to get in line behind him. Missing pets, babysitting services, lawn aeration companies, a nail salon… No missing persons.
Odd. What poor bastard ended up buried in the woods?
Maybe not a local.
Then who? A tourist? A drifter? Or someone held hostage for so long that the case had gone cold?
Maybe the library would have answers. Or maybe he’d missed something in the news.
On the way back to the hotel, Jack snatched a discarded newspaper from a bench and carried it under his arm.
Boris stopped him on his way through the lobby. “Some lady called for you,” he said. “I patched her through, but you weren’t here.”
“Oh,” said Jack, startled. Someone called. Forhim. But that couldn’t be right. “Did she leave a name?”
“Nope,” said Boris, flipping a page in his magazine. A column of text, a photo of a woman in a bikini holding a surfboard. “Declined.”
“Oh,” said Jack, suddenly worried. “Um, could you tell me the date?”
Boris sighed, groaned, and turned to the calendar. “It’s the seventeenth.”
“Thanks,” said Jack. “Um, did she ask for me by name?”
Boris scowled. “Nope. She asked if there was a pale, dark-haired guy in a blue suit staying here. You’re the only one I see matching that description, so I sent her through.”
“Can you try to get her number if she calls again?”
