“Sure,” I said, catching Vero’s eye across the room. “We’ll look around a little more if you don’t mind.” Vero walked briskly toward us, accidentally bumping into Aaron as he threaded his belt through the loops of his pants. They exchanged hurried apologies. As soon as he turned the corner I asked, “What did you find?”
“There’s an employee lounge in the back,” she said quietly. “The door’s unlocked. I poked my head in, but there are a few volunteers hanging out in there.”
“What did you see?”
“Every employee has a locker with their name on it.”
“Did Patricia have one?”
Vero nodded. “It’s worth a try.” Maybe there was something in Patricia’s locker that would give us a clue to where she was. But how would we open it without being seen?
“We can’t exactly waltz in and snoop around.”
“Leave that to me.” Vero waved Aaron’s key ring in front of me.
“Where did you get those?”
“Slipped them off his belt loop just now. He didn’t feel a thing.” She dumped Zach in my arms. “Meet me in front of the lounge.”
“When?”
“You’ll know.” She slunk off into the rows of cages. I followed Delia from kennel to kennel, eyes peeled for Vero’s sign, unsure exactly what I was looking for.
A sudden high-pitched yowl erupted, followed by the slam of a crate door. A cacophony of shrill barks ripped through the shelter as two cats tore down the center aisle, tails flared and backs arched. Another slam. Four dogs barreled in their wake, teeth bared and jaws snapping in pursuit. Children wailed and parents shrieked as the animals flew past. Zach burrowed into my shoulder. Delia didn’t object when I reached for her hand and hurried her down the aisle toward the lounge as the last of the volunteers rushed out to wrangle the loose animals.
Vero waved me along faster, scooping Zach from my arms. “Hurry, the room’s empty, but I don’t know for how long.” She checked to make sure no one was looking, then shoved me inside, the sounds of shrieking cats and howling dogs muffling as the door fell closed. I made a beeline for the row of lockers, searching the names until I found Patricia’s. If there had been a lock, it was gone now. Which meant Aaron was right, the police had already searched it.
The metal door clanged open, rustling the yellow police tape stretched across the opening. The inside of her locker door was covered with animal photos—mostly of Pirate and Molly. A business card was stuck in the corner: Detective Nicholas Anthony, Fairfax County Police Department. He was probably the detective assigned to Patricia Mickler’s case.
Careful not to disturb the police tape, I rummaged through the contents of her locker, pulling back a sweatshirt from its hanger. The navy fabric was layered in black and white dog hair, obscuring the Tysons Fitness Club logo on the front. The shelf above it contained a rolling sticky brush, a receipt for dog food, and one for a couple of coffees from Starbucks. Unless the police had discovered something I hadn’t, there was nothing here to suggest where Patricia had gone.
I shut the locker, scanning the lounge for anything Vero or I might have missed. Brightly colored thumbtacks dotted the bulletin board by the door. Team photos and work schedules. Patricia was on the Tuesday/Thursday team along with Aaron and a handful of others. She sat close beside him in the photo, wearing the same gym sweatshirt I’d seen in her locker, with Pirate and Molly perched on their laps. I leaned closer to the photo, my gaze narrowing on her hand. Her ring finger was naked, her diamond-encrusted wedding band noticeably absent.
A commotion rose from the kennels. I cracked open the door and peered out. A few yards away, Vero was distracting two volunteers in shelter uniforms. Her eyebrows rose, her expression urgent as I slipped out of the lounge.
“Mrs. Hall? Mrs. Hall?” A voice called over the barking dogs. “Theresa!” Louder this time. I turned. Aaron was rushing down the aisle toward me, looking flustered, and I realized with a start he was talking to me. “You haven’t by any chance seen a set of keys, have you? I must have dropped them in all the commotion.”
I shook my head, my hands reaching instinctively to a phantom itch in my hair. I never should have written Theresa’s name and address on that form. The police had already been here, I reassured myself. They’d already searched Patricia’s locker and questioned everyone. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d made a terrible mistake coming here. “Sorry, I haven’t found any keys.”