“Don’t do anything to make me regret it,” he said.
“If I find myself walking in your tracks, I’ll try not to step on your heel.But I don’t want to give up on a link between MalloryNorton and Scott Theriault just yet, if for no other reason than Ward Vose will ask me about it next time I see him.”
“Are you going to speak to the Nortons?”
“If they’ll speak to me.”
“They might, if you ask your psychic friend to put in a word for you.You know her, right—Sabine Drew?”
There was no point in denying it.
“Yes, I know her.”
“Is it just a coincidence that she’s up here at the same time as you?”
“Not completely,” I said.“But she has her own reasons.”
“And you didn’t see fit to bring this up while we were talking?”He tutted in mock sorrow, killed his cigarette, and tossed the butt in the trash.“One step closer to drowning, Mr Parker, one step closer.”
Chapter 91
In Detroit, federal agents examined images on a screen.The search of the apartment building had turned up nothing so far, but would resume once the Airbnb renters had moved out of the remaining units.
“That’s the car.”
“Can we follow it?”
The images changed: new cameras, new angles.
“Here.And here.Now we lose it.Wait, wait … And it’s back, but look at the timings.Where we lost it is a dead end, with no cameras.But even allowing for a U-turn, the car must have stopped there for a couple of minutes.Then—” More images.“Back to the Airbnb.”
“What have we got on the dead end?”
“Permission for demolition of an old grocery store, three floors, with planning for a condo.”
“Get someone out there.See if there’s security on the site, or cameras.Same for residences, businesses, cars with dashcams.”A pause.“And ask if they had a dumpster that night.”
Chapter 92
On the way back to Bingham, I stopped again in Madison to speak to Roy Colburn, one of the owners of Colburn’s Rib Shack, the restaurant where Mallory Norton was working a couple of shifts a week, mostly weekends, before she disappeared.The rest of the time, she was helping out at her father’s place of business, the resort at which she’d been waitressing during the summer having closed early after a slow season.
Colburn couldn’t tell me much more than the kid at the Shop ’n Save in Bingham, which was that Mallory was quiet but well liked, and a hard worker.
“Does she have friends among the staff?”
“Mallory hadn’t worked here for long,” he said, “and we never have more than two servers on duty, including weekends when we’re at our busiest.By the time we’ve finished cleaning up, everyone’s usually too tired to do more than head home, even if there was anywhere else to go around here, which there isn’t.”
Colburn’s wife Bea, who was co-owner and chef, chimed in.
“Mallory sometimes took food home with her instead of eating during her break.I figured she’d have it for lunch the next day.I’m proud of my cooking, but even I wouldn’t be filling up on it last thing before bedtime.”
She returned to the kitchen to continue her prep.Roy Colburn gave me names and phone numbers for the restaurant’s other servers, but added that he didn’t think Mallory would have been socializing with them since they were all twice her age, with kids.The ubiquitous picture of Mallory was pinned behind the host’s station, alongside a print of Christ surrounded by adoring children.
“I might reconsider that print,” I told Colburn.
“We’re all praying for her safe return.”
“Which means praying she’s not with Jesus yet.”
