Crush(112)

Rolled-up sleeves, buzz cut, and iron face, the guy appeared at the open window. He took a swig of water from a plastic bottle he was holding and then shaded his eyes and peered in. “Miles, my man, I thought the car looked familiar.”

Miles held his hand out and the two shook.

“I’d love to help you, but I need to know why.”

Miles nodded in understanding. “The woman who was driving that car is a personal friend and I’m trying to help find her, private work.”

The deputy pounded the hood. “I don’t have to tell you not to touch anything.”

Miles gave another nod.

“Carry on then, and if I can be of any help, let me know.”

It was crazy how police connections worked.

Two uniforms comparing paperwork on the dirt road gave the tow truck driver a thumbs-up. Since Elle was reported missing, and the car she last drove was found abandoned, crime scene investigation was on site. Just as we pulled up, their vehicles started rolling away, as did the other sheriff cars. “Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking,” Miles warned.

I paused and then said, “Yeah, sure.”

He opened his door and cruised over to them.

I followed.

The remaining guys were both young, had to be fresh out of the academy when Miles retired. “Hey, Miles Murphy. Not sure if you remember me—”

The uniform with a build like a boulder stuck his hand out. “Miles Murphy, of course I remember you, you’re a legend. Took a round in a gang turf war in the West End and lived to tell the story.” He turned to the other officer, who was even broader shouldered and more barrel chested. “You remember the story, don’t you?”

“Yeah, of course I do. How can we help you?”

Miles lowered his chin and nodded toward the clipboard in the linebacker’s hand. “I’m working the case of a missing woman and she was last seen driving the Mercedes you just towed off. Find anything that might help me find her?”

There was no hesitation in his response. “Nothing really. Small amounts of blood were found and we’re sending them off to the lab, but CSI initial analysis showed two different blood types. Purse, laptop, and wallet for a,” he glanced down, “Gabrielle Sterling were found, which rules out a simple mugging. There are signs of a struggle but really, not much more.”

Suddenly, the sun seemed blazing hot even though it was only April. I couldn’t speak if I wanted to. I couldn’t move if I were asked to. What if someone just took her and we never hear a word about her again? What if she just vanished? Who would care—other than me? O’Shea would move on like he had since his wife went missing. Elle had no family to speak of—except for that little girl she loves. The one she adamantly wanted to keep safe. Who would make sure Clementine was safe?

Somehow, some way, I knew I would.

Miles’s expression was blank. “Anything else I should know about that might lead me to where the perp came from?”

The other cop scratched his head. “No, that’s about it. But leave me your number. If something comes up, I’ll give you a call.”

“Hey, thanks, man, I really appreciate the help.”

The two officers nodded and the linebacker said, “And if you come across anything, you’ll let us handle it, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The other one indicated me with his finger. “Who’s this, by the way?”

The Sheriff’s car that was blocking the road started down the path.

Miles blew off the question. “We’d better let you get to it. Thanks again.”

Back in the car, it took all I had not to lose it.

My head felt heavy.

My vision slightly blurry.

My heart strained.

Memories of Elle burned in my eyes. The way she’d wiggle out of my hold. Blow me a kiss as she went off to work. Laugh on the phone.

She was so full of life.

The landscape blurred as we headed back to Boston. We were about halfway when Miles broke the silence. “Let’s head over to the address Elle gave you yesterday.”

“There’s no point to that,” I muttered, staring straight ahead.

“Well, we’re going anyway.”

I shrugged.

He kept on. “Do you think it takes a special dye to make roses black?”

I shrugged again, gaze on the landscape now. “I’m not . . . I don’t . . .” I had to clear my throat, try again. “I’m not sure.”

“We need to get a sample of the rose petals, have the dye run, and then query that to see what stores sell it.”

I didn’t look at him and muttered, “There could be hundreds.”

“It doesn’t matter. At least it’s a starting point. Also, the Mercedes was found out in nowhere land. Why?”

“Who knows? The perp could be west, north, south, or back in Boston and trying to throw us off for all we know.”

“Yeah, but like I said, it’s a starting point.”

I looked at my watch. She’d been missing twenty-four hours. Things weren’t looking good. “A starting point.” My laugh was harsh.

The car swerved to the side of the road.

“What the f*ck?”

Miles got out, came around to my side, opened the door, and yanked me from my seat.