“Yes.” I shut the door behind me and went to my truck. “I checked the gallery, but it’s locked. Seemed empty. Checked my place. Don’t think she’s been there. So I came here.”
“She has her car?”
“Yeah.” I got in my truck and started the engine.
“What’s the make and model?”
“Honda CRV. Silver. I don’t know the license plate.”
“That’s okay. We’ll find it. I’m downtown, so meet me outside Harper’s bakery. We’ll go from there.”
“Got it.” I drove around the curve in the driveway and turned onto the street.
Garrett ended the call, and I headed back toward town, the knot of dread sitting heavily in the pit of my stomach.
CHAPTER 39
Theo
Garrett’s policecruiser was parked in the lot behind Angel Cakes Bakery. He stood next to it, in uniform, talking to someone on his radio.
I got out and my breath misted. It was getting colder by the minute.
“We’re working on tracking down her car,” Garrett said. “And the neighboring agencies have been alerted. Is there anywhere else she could be?”
“I called the assisted living center where her grandma lives. She hasn’t been there. And I had to go back to school to find my phone. I don’t think she was there. I circled through town and didn’t see her, but I could have missed her car.”
“What makes you think Gina Morris was stalking her?”
“Pen’s ex told me. He saw Gina parked outside his house. Sounds like more than once.”
“He’s sure it was her?”
“She’s hard to forget. Has a distinctive look. I don’t know what Gina would want with Pen, but it’s weird.”
“Did Penelope know them?”
“Kind of. She took one of his painting classes a few months ago. Which reminds me, Pen found a link between Edwin Morris and both of those women. They each took one of his classes not long before they disappeared.”
I froze, my mouth slightly open as I realized what I’d just said. And what it might mean.
“Holy shit, Garrett. Those women took one of his classes and disappeared. Wound up dead. Pen took his class and she’s missing. Edwin’s dead, but what if he wasn’t the killer? What if it was Gina?”
Garrett started to answer, but I kept talking.
“That would mean Penelope might be in the hands of a fucking serial killer.”
“Stay calm. It’s possible, but we don’t know that yet.”
“Calm? How the fuck am I supposed to stay calm?” My phone rang—Luke.
“What’d you find?” I answered.
“Nothing. No one’s here.”
“Fuck.”
“Sorry, man. Did you get ahold of Garrett?”
