Page 53 of Little Girl Vanished

I picked up my glass and drank a good quarter of my beer in one gulp. I was feeling pretty slimy after exchanging numbers with a criminal, but finishing the beer at one in the afternoon would only make me feel worse.

Fuck me.

Resting my elbow on the table, I ran my hand over my eyes. I needed to get my shit together. I had to find Ava, and I couldn’t let that asshole think I was weak. Men like James Malcolm ate weak-willed people for breakfast.

I’d lost my appetite, but I took a couple of bites of my burger before grabbing some cash out of my purse and setting it on the table to cover the beer and an additional tip.

When I got outside, I dragged in a low, slow breath. It was still early in my unofficial investigation, and I’d gotten some valuable information, but I felt like I hadn’t gotten anywhere.

I’d been to the laundromat and talked to Malcolm, so it was time to see if I could get anything from Ava’s friends. That meant I needed Vanessa’s help.

I looked up her number in the school directory and sent her a text. I would have preferred to call her, but since she was keeping my investigation a secret, a text seemed more discreet.

Hey Nessi. Just checking in on you. I have a few questions, so when you get a chance, call me back on this number.

I had the school directory and Vanessa had given me a couple of names. I could just cold call the friends’ homes, but I doubted the parents would talk to me unless Vanessa made the request. Besides, Ava’s friends would still be at school.

My phone vibrated seconds later with a text. I expected to see a reply from Vanessa, but it was from an unknown number.

Harper, this is Nate. When I walked down to the Sparrow for lunch, I ran into Drew Sylvester. He’s on the police force, and he told me a few things you might be interested in.

While I was eager to get any information, I was worried about how Nate had gotten it. Had he been discreet?

I called the number, and Nate answered on the first ring.

“That was fast,” he said.

“I just finished my own lunch and was about to head back into town. Tell me how this conversation with the officer came about.”

He chuckled. “He doesn’t suspect anything, so don’t freak out. I just asked him what the commotion on the Petermans’ street was all about, and he volunteered that the girl was missing.”

“I thought the police were keeping that quiet.”

“They are, but we’re kind of buddies. He asked me to keep it to myself.”

“Yet you’re telling me.” It made me wonder if I could trust him with my own secrets.

He huffed in frustration. “You already know, so I’m not breaking his confidence.”

He had a point.

“Do you want to know what he told me or not?” he continued.

“Yeah. I do.”

“He said the mother is out of her mind with anguish, but TJ is calm and collected.”

“And that doesn’t look suspicious to the police?”

“It looks suspicious to him. He disagrees with how they’re handling the case, but he’s fairly new to the force. Says he can’t make waves.”

“So he’s young and fresh out of the academy?”

“Hardly. He’s our age. We went to school with him. He was a year older than us. You don’t remember him?”

“Drew?” I asked, searching my brain.

“Drew Sylvester. He played football. He was in the popular crowd.”