Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(35)
“He said he needs to talk to you or Detective Hess, and it’s important.”
Talia scanned the parking lot but didn’t see any APD police units, marked or unmarked. Was he here on his personal time? She remembered what Nolan had told her about people ignoring phone calls and showing up in person when they wanted something. Talia hadn’t ignored this detective—she’d fully intended to call him back—but she’d bumped it to the bottom of her list because she had so many other things demanding her attention.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” she told Joanne. “I’m on my way in.”
She scooped up her radio and the laptop she’d been using to file reports from the road. Approaching the entrance, she saw through the glass that the lobby was full—mostly mothers and girlfriends waiting to bail someone out, from the looks of it. She spotted the Austin detective immediately, and not just because he towered over everyone in the room. He had a sharp gaze, and it was fixed on her as she walked through the door. She didn’t pretend not to know who he was.
“Detective Harper?”
“That’s me.”
She stuck out her hand, and he gave it a shake, swallowing her fingers in his big grip. He wore jeans and a golf shirt, but the badge and the gun on his hip told her he was on duty.
“I’m Natalia Vazquez, CAP Squad.” She didn’t mention that she’d been promoted to Crimes Against Persons only a few months ago. “Come this way.”
Joanne buzzed the door open, and Talia led the detective through the bull pen, ignoring the curious glances from several uniforms. She started to take him to the break room, then changed her mind and veered toward the conference room, where they’d have fewer interruptions.
“Have a seat,” she said.
Harper kept his gaze on her as he pulled out a chair. He wasn’t just big but huge. Six-four, two-twenty at least, all muscle. His short-cropped dark hair made her think he had a military background.
Talia took the chair at the head of the table, trying to level the playing field a bit.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Harper?”
“It’s Dax.”
“Okay, call me Talia.”
“I’m here about a case.”
“Your message said something about a missing person? I meant to call you, but we’ve had our hands full around here.”
He nodded. “I heard about the bodies.”
“Bodies?”
“Another one today, right?”
She leaned back in her chair, watching him. They’d gone to great lengths to keep the latest recovery quiet for as long as possible. Maybe he had an in with the sheriff’s office.
“Tell me about your MP,” Talia said. “It’s recent, isn’t it?”
“Friday night,” he told her. “Or early Saturday morning. We haven’t pinned it down exactly. This girl was last seen at Blue Brew. That’s a bar on Sixth Street.”
“Girl?” she asked, because men tended to use the term loosely.
“Grace Murray, nineteen,” he said. “She was at her cousin’s bachelorette party when she disappeared.”
“So, barhopping, it sounds like. She have a fake ID?”
“They started the night at a Mexican restaurant, then went from there. The party split into two groups around eleven. From what I hear, Grace got carded outside Blue Brew, and that’s when she was separated from the pack.”
“Okay. And what does this have to do with us? You realize the recoveries we’re dealing with are bones, right? They’ve been there a while.”
“Alicia Merino.”
Talia tipped her head to the side. “Who’s that?”
“The body from Sunday. She’s been identified as Alicia Merino, twenty years old, went missing from a bar in San Antonio last October second.”
Talia bit back a curse. “Where did you get that?” And why didn’t she have it?
“San Antonio PD,” he said. “We’ve been swapping info on our missing-persons cases. The identification just came in, and they gave me a call.”
Talia resisted the urge to check her phone. With the bones recovered here, Springville PD should have been contacted first. Maybe they had, and Nolan hadn’t told her.
“So . . . you’re thinking what?” she asked. “Same MO? Same perp?”
“Could be.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little early for that? I mean, just because both of them went missing from bars doesn’t mean the crimes are connected.”
He leaned forward on his elbows. “Here’s what I think, Talia. I’ve got a missing teenager. And frantic parents. I’ve got no witnesses and no good leads whatsoever. I’m thinking if there’s even the slightest chance these cases are connected, I need to pursue it, because there’s a chance my missing person is still alive. That’s what I’m thinking.”
Talia watched him, struck by the fire in his eyes. He wasn’t just checking a box here.
“All right, I hear you,” she said. “How can we help?”
? ? ?
The hot water felt good on Sara’s tired muscles. But the shower quickly turned lukewarm, and she jumped out after only a few minutes. She crossed her tiny motel room and let her towel drop as she rummaged through her duffel bag. After moisturizing her skin, she dressed in dark clothing—a black tank top and jeans—and pulled on her dusty hiking boots. The boots were chunky but well broken in, and the blisters they’d given her when she first wore them in Guatemala were a distant memory. Now they fit her like a comfy pair of socks.