“I noticed the truck was missing that Tuesday evening, but I thought one of my clients borrowed it without permission. The exterior has seen better days, but it’s in great working condition. I let my clients borrow it if they had a job interview out of the area, or to do errands. I never reported it, and I didn’t think… Oh, God, I should have known.”
“You never reported the truck stolen?”
“No. It showed up on Saturday. My weekend director called about it. He was taking out the trash after dinner and it was parked behind the facility, keys in the glove box, unlocked. I really thought it was one of our clients, and I didn’t want anyone to get in trouble. I never put two and two together until now.”
“Willa, this isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known Candace borrowed the truck.” Regan paused, considered. “Did Candace know the truck was often used by your clients?”
“Yes. She even drove it a couple of times to pick up supplies.”
“You said you noticed it missing Tuesday evening. Before or after dinner?”
“Before. I just don’t know when I last saw it. I wish I had known it was Candace who took it. I would have told the police, and they could have been looking for her.”
“Just to clarify, do you know for a fact that the truck wasn’t parked behind your facility before Saturday?”
“All I can say is that it wasn’t there on Friday before I left after the dinner hour. I don’t know when it showed up on Saturday, it could have been anytime from early in the morning until after dinner. They usually clean up and take out the trash between eight and nine at night.”
“It gives us a window.”
Regan glanced at Lucas and nodded, hoped he would pop in with something. He seemed surprised at the level of detail of the last two callers. But he quickly composed himself and said, “Willa, thank you for calling in.”
“I’m calling Detective Young. He needs to know.”
“Good idea,” Lucas said. “I’m sure he’s listening, but he will probably have more questions.”
He ended the call and said, “Did anyone else see the old, beat-up, white truck with Candace behind the wheel the week she was missing? In or out of the area? If you did, please call. We have ten more minutes. Regan, do you have anything to add?”
Regan took the opportunity to try and entice Alexa to call in—or call her directly. “Early in my career, I worked in courtroom security. I did a lot of things in this capacity, including protecting the courthouse where I worked, a judge once who had been threatened, escorting prisoners to and from jail, and protecting witnesses who were testifying—different from the Witness Protection Program. There was one witness I was assigned for the duration of a high-profile trial. She had information about a hit-and-run involving a drunk driver. She wasn’t a witness to the crime, she was an emergency-room nurse who heard a dying statement from one of the victims, identifying the driver of the car which was different than what was reported. The driver allegedly panicked and fled and drove immediately to a police station and turned himself in. Except he hadn’t been the driver—he took his boss, a high-ranking government official, home first. So it was a complex case, but the nurse was impeccable in her memory, and it enabled the police to get a warrant they otherwise might not have gotten. The nurse did her civic duty, the lawyers got a conviction, and justice was served.
“Sometimes, we know something that we think can’t help the police, either because we have no evidence or because it’s hearsay. But sometimes, it’s that information that can help the police most, give them a different direction to investigate.”
“Like the white truck,” Lucas said.
“Exactly. Candace Swain clearly had something weighing on her mind the week she was missing. A responsible, dedicated student doesn’t just disappear. So the question is: Where was Candace after Tuesday? Where did she go, and who did she visit?”
There were no more calls, but Regan felt they had far more information than they could have hoped for. Lucas wrapped up the podcast and signed off, and Regan then said, “My dad left me a message. I’m going to call him back, then I’m happy to drive you home when you’re done editing.”
She left Lucas and Lizzy to do their thing, and she stepped into the hall and called her father. “You texted me. We just finished. Did you listen?”
“Yes. That was powerful stuff. The information about the truck—it sounds exactly like Willa March.”