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May knew that in these pressured circumstances she would have to pick her battles. Now was not the time to ask what she’d been holding.
"We're looking for Maurice Fardy," she said.
To her surprise, the woman laughed. "Maurice? Why? Has he gotten into trouble?"
"We need to ask him some questions," May said neutrally.
The woman tossed her limp hair back. "I don't know. I'm not his keeper. If he's gotten into trouble, then you can find him."
"Has he done that?" May said evenly. "Why don't you tell me what he's done?"
She looked at May, eyeing her up and down. "I'm not telling you anything. I'm not getting involved."
Getting involved? That prickled May's instincts.
"Is there anyone here who is new to this community?" she asked the woman. "Have you seen Chloe Terry or Giselle Sandler here recently?"
"Don't know who they are and never heard of the names," the woman said in a singsong, mocking tone that told May the words were an utter lie. "And I don't know where Maurice is."
May glanced at Owen and saw that he was looking around the campsite. There were quite a few people there. Some were sitting around a central campfire and others were peering warily at them from out of their doors and windows.
"Which RV is his?" May asked.
The woman shrugged. May was about to ask her one more time when she gave a long, drawn-out yawn.
"I'm tired," she said, with a wide, crazy smile. "I'm going to bed."
With that, she got up and went into the caravan and closed the door behind her.
May didn't feel like it was worth pursuing her. She had a strong sense that she was going to get no more sense from this woman, even if she hammered on the door and insisted that she come out again.
She walked over to the next RV, where a bearded man tried hastily to get his head back inside the window. However, a lock of his curly hair got hooked on the latch, trapping him in place as May approached.
Briefly, the memory of those locks of hair tied to the tree flitted into her mind again as she saw him struggling to free himself.
"Maurice Fardy. Do you know where he is?" she asked sternly.
"No idea," the man growled, still tugging at the hair that was caught.
May glanced at Owen, who had walked over to help him. Together, they worked to free his head.
"What's he done to get himself in trouble?" the man muttered, now sounding embarrassed.
"We need to speak to him regarding recent serious crimes," May said, as evenly as possible.
"Look, I don't know where he is," the man said. "And I don't see what business it is of yours. You guy all think that . . . that smoking weed is like, the end of the world. It's just an innocent pastime, man. You need to get with the modern world and make it legal. But as for Maurice, he keeps to himself. You know, he doesn't stay here much anymore? He's building a new community, something different, and it'll be far away from any police radar."
Now that was interesting, and his words piqued May's interest even more. So, Maurice was planning a second community? This definitely linked to the fact that he was taking women. Perhaps having hostages or captives formed part of his plan.
"Which one is his RV?" May said again.
They had now managed to free his hair, and she caught the direction of his glance clearly. He looked over toward the far right of the campsite. His eyes gave away what his mouth wasn't telling.
"So, he's there?" May asked.
At that moment, she jumped as a clattering, screaming sound filled the air.
It was coming from the far right of the campsite, and it took her only a moment to realize what it was.
