Page 67 of Chasing Creed

They entered the city’s outskirts. Lunch time and parking lots were beginning to fill up.

“Okay, so yes, this new list verifies what we’ve suspected,” Maggie said.” But again, without another victim’s testimony, you know as well as I do, it’ll be Brodie’s word against Iris’. Because if this list is correct, all these victims are dead.”

“We do have a couple of other options.”

She already knew why they were returning to David City. Pakula had tracked down a shop owner with a surveillance camera. He pulled into the convenience store parking lot.

Maggie was skeptical. She also hated reviewing surveillance video. It was minutes into hours of boredom, like looking for a needle in a haystack.

“I’m guessing the person who left the note on your windshield just might be smart enough not to get caught on camera,” Maggie told Pakula.

“I’m also guessing the same killer who doesn’t weigh down a body he throws in a lake might also be cocky enough to think small-town surveillance cameras are for show. It’s worth a shot.”

As they got out of the SUV, Maggie noticed across the street a steady stream of people going in and out of the café. She turned to follow Pakula then stopped suddenly.

“Pakula.”

He was almost at the door but turned around and came back.

“Do you remember yesterday’s entry on the list?”

He shrugged and said, “I haven’t memorized the names.”

“No, the PLS, place last seen. One of them was DC. I automatically thought Washington, DC. But look.” To be discrete, she tilted her head in the direction across the street. “It’s the Village Café.”

He didn’t skip a beat. “And DC is David City.”

46

Maggie left Pakula to sift through the convenience store surveillance video. The Village Café was crowded with coffee drinkers and a late breakfast crowd merging with early lunch orders. She had to wait at the end of the counter for the manager. Shirley scooted her large frame around chairs and tables, refilling coffee cups as she went, chatting with the customers, calling them by name. A gray-haired, tall man in a stained apron had told Maggie it’d be “a few minutes” as he headed back into the kitchen.

Shirley was out of breath by the time she made it behind the counter. She smiled at Maggie but was still in no hurry to get to her. Instead, she stopped to replace the coffee pot and prepare the machine for another batch. Finally, she moseyed over, wiping the countertop as she did, no movement wasted.

“What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to talk to Rachel Collins.”

“You and me both.” She laughed, but when Maggie didn’t, she looked concerned and asked, “She in some kind of trouble?”

“I hope not. Does she work here?”

“Yup. Worked till closing last night. She didn’t show up today. Thought maybe she overslept, but she didn’t even call. Didn’t answer her phone. We’re scrambling to replace her.”

“So, it’s not like her to not show up? How long has she worked here?”

“Gosh, it’s been almost a year. Why are you asking about her? Is she okay?”

“That’s what we’re checking on. Do you know where she lives?”

“And who exactly are you? I’m not sure Rachel would appreciate me giving out that kind of information.”

Finally, Maggie pulled out the leather wallet and showed her badge, keeping it low on the counter to not draw attention. “I’m Maggie O’Dell,” she said, casually, dropping her title and trying not to make a big deal of it.

“FBI?” Shirley, however, didn’t bother to hide her surprise. Several patrons nearby looked up and over at them.

“I’m just trying to make sure Rachel is okay.” Maggie needed to use her reassurance tone for a second time in the same week. She wasn’t good at this. “Do you have an address so I could check in on her?”

“You’re not looking to arrest her for something?”