“We received a call about a disturbance,” the senior office started, and then he spotted Abe. A little smile flitted across his lips, but he quickly returned to an impassive expression.
“Deputy Waller.” Abe nodded his head toward the officer.
“Mr. Sevett, everything all right here?”
“No,” Patrick interrupted. “This punk has my daughter’s bike.”
The younger officer looked between Patrick and the teenager, and then to Deputy Waller for instructions.
“Deputy, this is Patrick Sullivan, the father of Orla Sullivan,” Abe explained.
Waller’s expression softened.
“I understand. What’s your name, young man?” the deputy asked.
The younger officer pulled out a notepad and pencil.
“It’s, uh, Luke Dixon.” He fiddled with his hands, shoving them in his pockets.
“And how did you come into possession of Orla Sullivan’s bike?”
“I found it on Cherry Bend Road, like I told these guys. It was left there, on its side, like somebody didn’t want it no more.”
“Where exactly on Cherry Bend Road?”
“Elder Park.”
“I will need you to show me the exact location. Officer Petty, call the station and request a tech to come secure the bike. There’s no room in the squad car. Luke, we’ll drive you to your parents’ house for permission, but I need you to take us to the place you found the bike.”
“Sure, yeah.” He shot a furtive look at Patrick, and then at his feet. “My ma’s workin’ at the grocery store, but we don’t need permission. She’ll get mad if we bother her.”
“How about your dad?” Waller asked.
Luke shook his head.
“He split when I was little.”
“Okay, go over to the squad car. Officer Petty will help you into the back.”
Luke cast terrified eyes at the car but did as he was told.
“Anything I need to be aware of?” Waller asked, shifting his gaze from Abe, to Hazel before falling on Patrick.
Patrick no longer looked angry. It had been the boy’s comment about his father splitting. Hazel had watched Pat’s mouth fall a bit at those words.
“I picked him up by his shirt. Scared him pretty good. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Waller said, “but under the circumstances, it’s not a surprising reaction. Did he tell you anything else about the bike?”
“Yeah, he found the bike on Thursday, but it sat there for two days before he took it,” Abe told the officer. “And he’s holding something back. He saw someone around that park. I’d press him.”
Several minutes later, a van pulled onto the scene and a man in dark slacks and a white coat got out. He collected the bike, pushing two long metals rods between the spokes to lift it.
Hazel watched Orla’s bike suspended over the rods, the man in gloves putting it in the back of the white van, and shuddered. It all seemed so wrong. She witnessed a similarly haunted expression in Patrick’s eyes.
Hazel heard Abe talking quietly with Detective Waller.
“The office is in an uproar. I’ll give you the exact location, but only after we’ve swept it. Understand?”
“Of course.” Abe held up his hands. “Thank you for taking this seriously.”
Waller winked.
“More than a handful of us agree with you, Abe. We’ve been looking at these crimes as a series, but without proof…” He held his hands out, and then dropped them. “But that article lit a fire under some butts. A task force is being assembled. The wheels are turning.”
“Good. I hoped for nothing less.”
“I’ve got to get back inside.” Abe gestured toward the diner. “I’ve turned this into my home base for the rest of the week, and I promised my editor I’d be here at the diner for people stop in with tips. Plus, Mona will have my hide if I take up a booth all day without an hourly order of coffee.”
“Your article was…” Patrick paused, blinking a few times and giving his head a little shake. “Good. It was real helpful to get an idea of all that’s gone on. Scared me, too.”
Abe nodded.
“Sometimes, I struggle knowing the parents will read it. I tried to be honest and objective, but I also wanted people to get to know the girls, daughters, sisters, women with dreams. It changes people’s perspectives when they get close.”
Patrick nodded, rubbed his jaw.
“I shouldn’t have picked that kid up. He hurt his arm. I…”
Hazel put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder.
“Mr. Sullivan, you acted on instinct. Had you not run across the street, he might have pedaled away. We might never have found him.”
Patrick tried to smile, but it came out as a frown.
He sighed and looked at the street where fliers lay plastered along the cement. A few blew up when caught in a rush of wind by passing cars.
“I’ve got those,” Hazel said. “Abe, I’ll meet you in the diner in a few minutes. Mr. Sullivan, I’m happy to put those up. Why don’t you go home?”
Patrick started to argue, but Abe cut him off.
“It’s best if you’re close to home, Mr. Sullivan. That article is already producing leads. One might come direct to your house. I’m sure it’d be best if you took the call.”
Patrick’s eyes widened, as if imagining Fiona answering the phone.
“Sure, okay. Thanks again.”
He walked back across the street. A flier blew up, and he reached out, snatching it in his hand and holding it to his chest as he returned to his truck.
“Any leads?” Hazel asked. She ordered a cup of tea and gazed at the frenzy of notes on the table.
Abe nodded.
“A dozen, at least. A few worth following up on.”
“Any good ones?”
Abe shook his head.
“I don’t think so, but I’ll track them anyway. After people see the girls’ pictures, either on fliers or in the article, some create false memories. It’s strange, but I’ve seen it in other cases. They see Orla in so many pictures, they superimpose her on strangers.”
“A lot of extra work for nothing, then.”
“Yeah, exactly. Fortunately, most people don’t call in tips unless they’re sure, but there’s always a handful of eager helpers who are not helpful at all.”
“You know the cop outside?” Hazel asked.
Abe nodded.
“Deputy Waller. He worked with my dad for a lot of years. I consider him a friend, and he’s offered me guidance on several stories.”
“Was your dad a cop?”
“No, a prosecutor.”
“Deputy Waller believes the girls are connected?”
Abe nodded.
“He hasn’t put it in those words, but he’s encouraged the direction of my investigations.”
“Well, I’m done at the market for the day. How can I help?”
Abe shuffled some papers aside.
“Liz is visiting the gas stations along 210, the road to Birch Park. Want to cover the territory along M-22 leading up to Cherry Bend? Take a flier, ask if anyone’s seen her, find out who was working the day she disappeared. Ask about any suspicious people or vehicles. Ask if anyone saw Orla’s bike.”
“Sure. I’m on it.”
“One more thing,” Abe said. “I advertised a five-hundred-dollar reward in the article. Patrick offered that, but the higher the better. The family of Laura, the girl from Cadillac, got creative to fund her reward. They did a garage sale, held a pancake breakfast. See if you can’t think up some options to raise money for Orla’s reward.”
Hazel nodded, relieved. Organizing a fundraiser was something she could do.