Cold air rushed in and I drew it deep into my lungs. I grabbed Vero’s hand, clambering over the lip to the damp ground. Her tennis shoes glowed white against the slick dark pavement, the hems of Tyrese’s black uniform pants rolled in sloppy cuffs around them.
I got up and leaned on the rear bumper, struggling to get my bearings. We were behind a building. A gas station, judging by the smell of it.
“I’ll go inside and get us a phone,” Vero suggested.
“No!” I nearly fell over as I rushed to my feet. “You can’t go in there wearing that. Stay with the car. I’ll do it.” I drew my hood up to cover my face and circled the building, my feet tripping to a halt as I recognized where we were. The charter bus had driven through this intersection three days ago. The small stretch of shops between traffic lights had consisted of one gas station, a grocery, a bank … and a hardware store.
I dug the crumpled slip of paper from my pocket. The name on the sign over the hardware store across the street matched the one printed on the receipt I’d found during the crime scene exercise in the woods.
I walked around to the front of the convenience store. Two security cameras were mounted high above the doors, one angled toward the gas pumps, the other toward the road and （with any luck） the hardware store beyond it.
Bells on the door jangled as I stepped inside the store. A scruffy young man in a trucker hat hunched behind the counter, flipping the pages of an adult magazine, the crumbs from the MoonPie he was eating scattering over the centerfold. He sipped from his Coke can, swishing soda in his mouth, his throat bobbing around his swallow just before he released a belch. I found a cheap prepaid phone on a display beside the counter and set it in front of him. He looked up from his magazine, stuffing the rest of his MoonPie in his mouth as he rung up the charge on his register. I paid cash and took the phone, not bothering to ask for a bag as I left.
I rounded the building to the training cruiser and knocked on the driver’s side window. Vero started, clutching her chest as she rolled her window down. “Come on,” I said, tossing the phone on the seat beside her and gesturing for her to get out.
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to see my uniform.”
“I changed my mind.” Vero wanted to pretend she was a cop. Here was her chance. “You’re going to go inside the convenience store and ask to see their security footage from yesterday morning,” I said, unfolding the receipt I’d found and pointing at the time stamp. “This hardware store is directly across the street. The cameras out front might have picked up EasyClean or his car when he came to do his shopping.”
“You seriously think the convenience store clerk is just going to let me see his security feeds without a warrant?”
I took her by the arm and dragged her out of the car. “You talked Tyrese into wearing your bra. This should be a piece of cake.” I walked her around the building and pushed her toward the door. The clerk glanced up as the bells jangled and Vero walked in. He straightened, slapping his magazine closed, nearly dropping his Coke as he hid the can under the counter.
“Hey, Officer,” he said, his cheeks flushing a guilty shade of red as I melted into the candy aisle and peeked over the display.
Vero stripped off her mirrored sunglasses and hitched her thumbs in her belt, her dark eyes roving over the crumbs on the counter. The clerk turned the magazine over as Vero sidled up to the register. “You pay for that soda?” she asked, staring down her nose at him.
The clerk began to stammer. “I … no … not yet … I usually don’t pay until—”
“So you’ve done this before?” she said, holding up the plastic wrapper from the MoonPie and waving it in his face. He reached for his magazine as Vero slid it from the counter. She flipped it open, giving him a heavy dose of side-eye when the pages stuck together. The clerk swallowed. “Tell you what?” she said, dropping it back in front of him. “You help me with a matter of public safety, and I won’t tell your boss you’ve turned his candy aisle into a free buffet.”
His cheeks flushed. “What kind of help do you want?”
Vero leaned over the counter, speaking in hushed tones. The kid glanced through the window at the empty parking lot and motioned for her to follow him. They disappeared through a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
A McDonald’s commercial played on a TV mounted on the wall. My stomach grumbled as I perused the Hostess selection while I waited for Vero. The commercial gave way to a newscast as I hovered beside the Twinkies.
“… The vehicle was discovered yesterday morning in a privately owned field off a remote rural road west of Culpeper after witnesses reported smelling smoke in the area. Tonight, investigators think they may have a break in the case…” I glanced up at the TV, doing a double take at the photo on the screen. “… The vehicle is believed to have been registered to Ignacious Grindley of Pleasantville, New Jersey, known more commonly as Ike. His wife reported him missing three days ago, telling authorities in Pleasantville that he had traveled to Northern Virginia for a work-related trip and she became concerned when he neglected to answer his cell phone…”
Vero emerged from the back room. She jolted to a stop beside me, slack-jawed, her eyes glued to the screen.
“Police are asking anyone who may have seen this man to contact their local authorities. Mr. Grindley’s wife and his employer were both unavailable for comment…”
“Let’s go,” I said, pulling my hood low to cover my face as I turned for the door.
“They were supposed to make that guy disappear,” Vero hissed as we rushed to the car. “His face is all over the news!”
“I told you we shouldn’t trust her.” We ducked inside the cruiser and shut the doors. I stared out the window, reeling in my racing thoughts. “The car was burned. And they didn’t say anything about a body. There’s probably no evidence in that car connecting him to us.”
“Marco has to know Ike is dead by now. What if he tells the police Ike was at my cousin’s garage?”
“Given the kind of work Ike was doing for Marco, I seriously doubt Marco wants the police involved. We’ll stay calm, find EasyClean, and hope Kat holds up her end of the bargain. Did the clerk show you the security footage?”
“Yes, but the camera didn’t capture the entrance to the hardware store. All I could make out was the parking lot out front. I checked a ten-minute window before and after the time stamp on the receipt. I didn’t see any police cars.”
“What about unmarked ones?”
“None that stood out. If EasyClean was in the store, he must have parked someplace else.”
I pried the prepaid phone from its packaging and dialed the cell number Carl’s wife had given me a month ago, the night we’d all sat around her kitchen table and agreed never to tell the police what had happened to Carl. No one answered.
“Maybe she’s screening her calls,” Vero suggested.
I stared at the phone. Leaving a message felt too risky. Nick would recognize my voice if Barbara’s voice mail messages ever became evidence. I checked the time. The clock on the dashboard said it was a little after four.