“I think this woman might know where Mackenzie is?—”
“She needs medical attention right now.” His voice was quiet. “If we don’t let them go, she may not be able to tell us anything at all.”
Kori looked at the woman. She stared back at Kori through the open doors, her expression unreadable.
Then the doors closed.
Kori stood in the parking lot and watched the ambulance pull out. Watched it turn onto the road and disappear.
Her chest squeezed with disappointment.
“I think she saw Mackenzie.” Her voice came out flat. “She knows where she is.”
“We’ll get to the hospital as soon as we can.”
Kori looked at the road where the ambulance had been.
Why did she feel like it might be too late by then?
Wyatt studied Kori’s profile after the ambulance left. Tendrils of her dark hair escaping from beneath her black knit hat, her tense jaw, the worry in her gaze.
Then he thought about the photograph from Mackenzie’s backpack. The one of Kori’s family looking so happy and normal.
He remembered the image of Mackenzie there.
The sisters definitely resembled each other. They looked enough alike that a frightened woman might get them confused.
What if that woman had seen Mackenzie? What if she had information that would help them find Kori’s sister?
They definitely needed to talk to her again. And they would. Just not yet.
His phone buzzed, and Martha’s name appeared on the screen.
He stepped away to answer. “Martha, thanks for calling back.”
“Wyatt.” Her voice sounded thinner than usual. “Does this have something to do with my Pete?”
“To be honest, I don’t know yet. We’re working various leads right now.”
“Of course. What do you need to know? You said something about the farmers market?”
“That’s right. One week there was a jewelry vendor there selling cord bracelets, with small stones. Do you remember them?”
Kori looked over at him as if curious about his words.
“I do. It was two women, and a man was with them—though he just kind of hovered in the background and watched them. They were an odd bunch.”
“Can you tell me what you remember about them?” he finally asked.
Kori stepped closer, her brow furrowed.
“They’d missed the registration deadline.” Martha’s voice steadied. “Most vendors sign up weeks ahead. The event is very popular. Anyway, these three showed up the morning of, asking for a spot. I almost turned them away, but I did have one space open after our sourdough vendor called in sick.”
“Do you remember anything else about them?”
She paused in thought. “The women seemed young—probably in their late teens or early twenties. The man was middle-aged. I tried to make conversation with them the way I do with all the vendors, but I got nothing back. I figured they were just private. You get that sometimes.”
“Did they give you a name and phone number? An address?”
