Samuel shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know anyone by that name."
"Okay. Thank you." McKenzie stood and buttoned his jacket.
They left the way they'd come, back down the steep stairs and out onto the street. The afternoon was warm and the sidewalk was quiet. McKenzie slid his sunglasses on and glanced at Callie.
"Garrett Finch," he said.
"And Tabitha Smith," Callie added. "White Stone Deli first. It's closer."
The White StoneDeli sat at the end of a quiet block in Elizabethtown, identifiable by a hand-painted sign above the entrance and window boxes filled with herbs. The building was old, refurbished with care. Inside, the air smelled of fresh bread and yerba mate. Long wooden tables ran the length of theroom, communal style, and the walls were lined with handmade shelves displaying jars of honey, preserves, and dried tea blends. A chalkboard menu listed sandwiches, soups, and baked goods at prices that were almost aggressively reasonable.
A woman in a long linen dress and a headscarf stood behind the counter, arranging loaves on a wooden board. She was in her fifties, thin-faced, with calm eyes and an unhurried manner. She didn’t live by the same clock as the rest of the world.
"Tabitha Smith?" McKenzie asked, showing his badge.
"That's me." She set down the loaf she was holding and wiped her hands on a cloth. "What can I do for you?"
"We're looking into the disappearance of a young woman named Brooke Danvers. We understand she may have worked here."
McKenzie placed a photograph in front of her. Tabitha picked it up and studied it for a long moment, then set it back down.
"I've never seen her before."
Callie glanced at McKenzie. "Strutz Agency says she worked here."
Tabitha picked up the photo again and looked at it more carefully, tilting it toward the light from the window. "We get a lot of people coming through. She might have interviewed for a position. But I would remember if she'd actually worked here." She handed the photo back. "No. I'm sorry. I can't help you."
"What about Kara Ellison?" Callie asked.
"I don't know that name either."
"Do you keep employment records? Applications?"
"We do. But our community values privacy. I'd need to speak with our elders before sharing anything."
McKenzie took a card from his jacket pocket and placed it on the counter. "We'd appreciate it if you'd do that soon. This is a murder investigation, Ms. Smith."
Tabitha looked at the card but didn't pick it up. "I understand. I'll speak with them today."
They walked back to the cruiser in silence. McKenzie started the engine and sat there for a moment, both hands on the wheel, not pulling out.
"She's lying," Callie said.
"Maybe."
"Strutz says Brooke worked there. Tabitha says she's never seen her. Somebody's wrong."
"Or somebody's covering." McKenzie put the cruiser in gear and pulled away from the curb.
Callie made a quick phone call to Finch. She got his answering machine. “I am out of the office for the day, leave a message and I will be in touch.”
She left a message then hung up.
"Garrett Finch tomorrow?” McKenzie asked.
"First thing."
Callie settled back in her seat and watched the town slide past. Three names in one afternoon. Samuel Bridger. Tabitha Smith. Garrett Finch. Three doors, and behind each one someone who knew more than they were saying.
