The Return(91)

“Good morning.”

“You were up early. I didn’t hear you leave.”

“I’m like a mouse when I sneak away.”

“I’m going to get some yogurt. Do you want anything?”

“I can go with you.”

Good to her word, she selected a container of yogurt and prepared a cup of tea. I opted for eggs and bacon with a side of toast, giving myself a pass on my healthy diet.

Back at the table, we sat across from each other.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked.

“Like a baby,” she said with a sheepish air. “That was nice, last night. Thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me. That might ruin it.”

“Deal,” she said. “Did you find the schools in the area?”

“I did,” I said. “Before dinner.”

“Me too,” she said. “There aren’t too many, but they’re spread through the county. We’ll do a lot of driving today.”

“I want to go to the police station first. What time do you think the chief will be there?”

“Hard to say. Probably around eight. Why?”

“I’d rather not say until I know for sure. But it might make for less driving if I’m right.”

*



Having eaten, I went back to the room, showered, and packed up my things. After meeting in the lobby, we were in the car before the top of the hour.

At the station, we were again ushered into Robertson’s office. Because I hadn’t shared my thinking with Natalie, she was as curious about the visit as he was.

“I’m sure you’re not here for a social visit,” he began, “so what can I do for you?”

“I’m wondering how missing persons are categorized in Georgia,” I said. “Is there a statewide database?”

“There is and there isn’t. Missing persons reports are generally handled locally, so every police department has its own list. Sometimes, the GBI might be involved as well, and they do operate statewide.”

“GBI?”

“Georgia Bureau of Investigation,” he said. “Small communities can’t necessarily afford to have full-time detectives or investigators on staff, so when crimes are committed or people go missing outside of major cities, the GBI steps in. They have their own missing persons list.”

“So if you had a name, you could check if someone is missing?”

“Of course,” he said. “Missing persons are usually listed alphabetically, but some departments list them chronologically. Depending on the department, some of those lists are public.”

“What if you only have a first name?”

“That’s obviously a slower process, but it’s still possible. You’d have to look over the various lists yourself. Keep in mind that there are missing people in the books that go back more than ten years.”

“Would you be willing to check for us?”

“You want me to look for Callie’s name? Neither of you are even certain that she went missing from Georgia.”

“She’s a kid and she’s dying.”

It took him a second before he finally nodded. “All right. I don’t have any idea how long this might take, though.”

“There’s something else, too.”

“Yes?”

“In addition to Callie, can you look for the name Karen as well?”

“Karen?”

I nodded. “A Caucasian teenage girl, missing since last spring or summer.”

Even as I said it, I could feel Natalie’s questioning gaze on me.

*



Robertson told us to wait in a coffee shop down the street. Though we’d both eaten, I ordered another cup of coffee and Natalie ordered tea again. I left a 500 percent tip on the table in open view, in case we had to stay at the table for a while.

“Karen?” Natalie asked.

I handed her the original note. Natalie read through it. When she finished, I went through the latter part of it.

Trevor…help care…and…if you can…collapsed…sick…like Rose…find family…go to hell…and run away…love you…you came…now go…please



“It seems clear that he was talking about her.”

“He doesn’t mention the name Callie.”

“No, he doesn’t. But if you combine the words care and and while changing some of the pauses, you come up with this.” I handed over the reinterpretation I’d scribbled earlier.

Trevor…help Karen if you can. Collapsed. Sick like Rose. Find family. Go to Helen. Runaway. Love you. You came. Now go. Please.



She read it before looking at me. “How did you come up with this?”

“I guess I must have been inspired.”

*



It took less time than either of us anticipated. Forty-five minutes later, Robertson entered the coffee shop holding a manila file. There were extra seats at the table and he took one of them. Without prompting, the waitress returned to the table with a cup of coffee for him. I guessed he was a regular. In the meantime, he slid the file across to me.

“I think I might have found her.”

“Already?”