The Only One Left

by Pamela Beason

  “Ninety-three miles in one day,” Paul told him. “I did the downhill run a couple of decades ago, and Andrea did the road bike section.” He put a hand on his wife’s shoulder as if to congratulate her.

  Finn wondered why he’d never heard of the event, but the race seemed likely to be irrelevant now. The basic fact was that each family clearly thought their daughter was with the other girl. Which, apparently, they were. Just not anywhere close to Bellingham.

  “When was the last time you heard from your daughters?”

  “Mia texted on Sunday around five p.m.” Robin tucked a wisp of pale hair behind one ear. “That’s the day of the race, by the way. She said that their team didn’t win but they were planning to have fun at the after party and then go to bed because they’d been up since dawn.”

  Andrea jumped in. “And Darcy texted that they’d be out of cell range most of today because they had to go back along the race route and pick everything up, but they’d be home tonight.”

  Robin stared at the other woman. “Mia sent the same message.”

  “So none of you were worried when your daughters didn’t show up for a few days,” Finn summarized.

  Realizing they’d been played, all four parents now wore miserable expressions.

  That was both the blessing and the curse of cell phones, Finn thought. Unless you continually tracked them on GPS, you never knew where the callers actually were. Texting was even worse, because you didn’t even have a voice to analyze. Anyone could text from someone else’s cell.

  Both fathers studied their wives. The men were probably thinking that things would have gone differently if they’d been in charge, but they were smart enough to keep their mouths shut under the circumstances.

  All four adults claimed they’d never heard of the Sasquatch Festival.

  Finn took down the names and numbers of the girls’ friends, praying he was not on the verge of discovering there were more than two missing teens. “Do Darcy and Mia have boyfriends?”

  The Irelands supplied the name of Sean Torqhart for Darcy’s love interest. Andrea obviously felt compelled to add, “He’s a nice boy who lives in our neighborhood, same age as Darcy. His family goes to our church. I know he didn’t have anything to do with this. I saw him yesterday out mowing the lawn.”

  “I’ll still need his number,” Finn said. “Darcy might have told him about her plans.”

  “Mia’s only been out on a few dates. She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Robin Valdez assured Finn.

  Blocked from Robin’s view, Andrea Ireland rolled her eyes. Finn made a mental note to separate the sets of parents and ask about the other family’s daughter.

  He ushered the parents back to the campsite. While they’d been inside the trailer, the trash strewn over the site had been captured and stowed somewhere; the prisoners and their van and guards were gone. Only the flattened grass and the lone tent testified to the campers who had been here for the festival. From what Finn could see from the opening, the tent appeared to contain only two sleeping bags and pillows, a flashlight, and a used tissue. He pulled on latex gloves before taking the car key Paul held out. He asked the parents to stand back, and together they did a visual inspection of the car, the mothers identifying various items of clothing as belonging to their daughters. Finn separated them into two piles on the back seat.

  “Do the girls have purses?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Mia has a couple, but she hardly ever uses them,” Robin told him. “She has a little black leather backpack she uses instead.”

  “Darcy, too,” Andrea said. “Those backpacks are all the rage right now. Just big enough for a comb and lipstick and a bottle of water. They usually carry their cell phones in their back pockets.”

  The glove compartment held the car registration and insurance forms, a hairbrush and lip gloss, and two cell phone cords. He showed them to the parents. Glancing around, he noticed a lack of electrical outlets in the immediate camp area. “Probably not much opportunity to recharge a phone out here.”

  “Shoot.” Andrea moaned. “No wonder Darcy’s not answering her phone. It’s probably dead.”

  Robin nodded, her lips grimly pressed together.

  Backing out of the car, Finn straightened. “Do the girls have credit cards?”

  “Debit cards.” That came from Paul Ireland. “It’s pretty standard to give teens a pre-loaded debit card these days.”

  “I’ll need those account numbers.” Finn looked at both men.

  “I can just tap into Mia’s and show you. It’s connected to our account.” Keith Valdez turned in place, studying the surrounding area. “Maybe they went hiking?”

  Finn rubbed his chin. “I’m not aware of any hiking trails around here, but I will check.” It was a worrisome thought, that the girls could be wandering in the surrounding countryside. Then again, that was a more optimistic scenario than other possibilities that were snaking through his imagination.

  “Where do you think they are?” the men demanded from Finn.

  “No clue yet,” he murmured, blinking into the sun that was already descending toward the mountains to the west. “Maybe they met some friends and took off with them?” His stomach growled, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He waved his notebook at the foursome. “I have all your information. I think we’re done for today.”

  “What?” Robin Valdez yelped. “We need search parties now!”

  For once all the parents were in agreement, nodding enthusiastically.

  Finn promised, “I’ll get the girls’ descriptions and driver’s-license photos into the police networks tonight as soon as I get back to the station. All local law enforcement will be on the lookout for Mia and Darcy. And I’ll work on getting Civil Air Patrol volunteers in the air tomorrow.”

  “Why not tonight?” Paul Ireland demanded. “We need a ground search, too—immediately!”

  Resisting the urge to heave an exasperated sigh, Finn told them, “You might notice that this is a very rural area. None of the local law enforcement agencies have much in the way of resources.” Hell, their radios didn’t even work in many locations. But these parents were desperate. “I promise I’ll muster what I can, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I have any news to share.”

  “And you’ll send out an Amber Alert right away?” Andrea asked.

  Finn narrowly managed to suppress an eye roll. The instant anyone went missing these days, everyone requested an Amber Alert. It was nearly as bad as the CSI effect, with everyone expecting instantaneous DNA results and fingerprint matches. He explained, “We can only issue Amber Alerts when we have a reasonable suspicion of a specific individual the missing child is likely to be with or a description of the vehicle the child is likely to be traveling in.”

  All four parents stared at him, their expressions wavering between anger and frustration.

  He added, “You can imagine the resulting phone calls if we issued Amber Alerts every time anyone went missing.”

  He knew they were hoping for more. More sympathy. More action. Welcome to the country, he wanted to tell them. Instead, he told them about hotels in Quincy. “Those are the closest accommodations. Or if you want to return home, I promise to keep you informed.”

  Andrea Ireland shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “No way are we going back to Bellingham while our daughter is missing.”

  Throwing an arm around his wife’s shoulders, Keith Valdez added, “The same for us.”

  Paul Ireland, keys in hand, reached for the door of the Ford Edge. Finn blocked him. “Sorry, I can’t let you take the car. Or the tent.” He looked at each parent in turn. “Our team needs to inspect them tomorrow.”

  “You mean a crime scene team,” Keith Valdez stated bluntly.

  Finn swallowed. The crime scene “team” was one guy in his county, and he didn’t know if Grant County had one at all. If he were still in Chicago, he’d be able to muster experienced evidence collection techs within an h
our, but here, it could take days. He still couldn’t believe he’d so blindly followed his ex to this backwater.

  Robin Valdez began to cry. “Mia’s our only child,” she choked out between sobs. “She’s all we’ve got.”

  The words seemed overly dramatic, but the woman’s distress was real. “I promise we will do everything we can to find Mia,” he told her. “It’s entirely possible the girls caught a ride with someone to continue the party elsewhere.”

  “Oh, God!” Robin Valdez flattened a hand against her chest.

  The Irelands exchanged anxious glances.

  Clearly, partying elsewhere was not a comforting suggestion. Finn was afraid to offer another possibility. “Please, all of you.” He met each parent’s gaze, glancing from one to the next. “Make some notes on the girls’ associates and get me their contact information. Write down anything Mia and Darcy might have told you, or that you might have seen or suspected. You never know what might be useful. And meet me back here at ten tomorrow morning.”

  Keith touched his wife’s shoulder. “Robin and I will have some flyers made up right away so people will know the girls are missing.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Finn told them, although he had no idea if they’d find a copy shop open in Quincy.

  Glad to have a mission, the Valdezes left first.

  Finn stopped Andrea Ireland before she got into her car. “Mrs. Ireland, I couldn’t help noticing that you looked like you wanted to say something when Mrs. Valdez was saying Mia had no boyfriend.”

  “Well, I probably shouldn’t talk.” Her eyes darted toward her husband and then back to Finn. “As far as I know, from what I’ve seen and what Darcy has told me, Mia doesn’t have a boyfriend, but she’s looking for one.” Andrea leaned closer. “In other words, Detective Finn, that girl is hot to trot, if you know what I mean.”

  “Okay.” Finn didn’t know what else to say to that comment.

  He waited until the Irelands drove away, then found the Bradys sitting in folding chairs in front of the closed concession stand. “Do you keep records of who reserves which campsites during festivals?”

  “Of course,” Brynne said. “Well, not us, but whoever was in charge of reservations for the site. Vaughn Boylan would know.”

  “I never caught a glimpse of Boylan this afternoon.”

  Rex shrugged. “I guess Vaughn didn’t come in today after all. It was a very long weekend, and the next concert isn’t for two weeks.”

  “Give me Boylan’s phone number. I’ll set up an appointment.” Finn jotted down the number on his notepad. “Don’t touch the car or the tent. We’ll do a more thorough inspection tomorrow.”

  Finn’s stomach growled again. Rounding up a deputy to camp here on such short notice seemed unlikely, and anything could happen if the site was left unguarded. “Can you have someone stay here overnight in case the girls turn up?”

  Rex and Brynne studied each other for a long moment, seemingly annoyed at his request.

  “Two teenage girls are missing from your campground,” he reminded them.

  Rex sighed. “Hon, can you go home and bring the camper?” Turning back to Finn, he explained, “We have one of those teardrop trailers. I’ll park it near that car and sleep in the trailer overnight.” He glanced at his wife. “Don’t forget a comforter and pillow. And our good flashlight. And the shotgun.” He flashed a sideways glance at Finn. “Just in case.”

  Finn nodded. “Good idea. Make sure your cell phone is on, and call me if anything happens.”

  Brynne told her husband, “This is too creepy. I’m staying, too. I’ll bring some supper when I come back.” She turned away.

  Rex stuck his hands in his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I just flashed on where I know your name. Aren’t you that gorilla guy?”

  “Unless the girls show up overnight, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thank you for your help.” Pushing his notebook and pen into his jacket pocket, Finn headed for his car before Rex could ask about gorillas again.

  Chapter 5

  Monday

  Some thing was strolling across her right cheek. Darcy Ireland woke with a start, frantically brushing the thing away with her fingers, but it came right back, now tickling her chin. She blinked hard. All she could see was green. Tall grass curved over her, brushing her face as if checking to see if she was still alive. Pushing the grass away with both arms, she sat up.

  The world lurched violently. She closed her eyes to make it settle down again, and raised her hands to feel her scalp, checking for a lump on her head to explain this concussion. Her fingertips identified clumps of dirt and shreds of grass, but no bump. Contusion. It had been a vocabulary word on the English final only a week ago.

  Memory slowly came back. The motorcycle guys. Comet. The picnic. The sunset. The beer had tasted funny. What the hell was in that beer?

  Suddenly remembering lectures on date-rape drugs, Darcy fingered her jeans. The snap was undone, but her zipper was still pulled up. She didn’t feel like she’d been raped. She wasn’t a virgin, but she would know if anything had happened down there, wouldn’t she?

  A motorcycle track looped away from her feet and disappeared into the grass. She stood up, and saw nothing but waving grass for at least a half mile in every direction. Barren hills bordered the hayfield. She brushed her hand over her back pockets and then over the pockets in her denim jacket, turning in a slow circle and surveying the ground around her feet. Nothing but dirt and grass. The motion made her feel like she might throw up.

  Damn Comet. He’d dumped her in a hayfield and taken off. With her backpack and cell phone.

  The sun was high overhead. Her phone would have been able to tell her the time, the direction she was facing. Why was this happening to her? Tears pooled in her eyes, but she angrily wiped them away. There wasn’t time for self-pity. Damn Comet. Damn Mia for wanting an adventure. They were both going to be in such trouble.

  She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Mia!”

  Her only answer was the wind that rippled the thigh-high grass around her. “Mia!”

  She’d been away from the campground for a whole night. She was ravenous. And so thirsty. The Sasquatch Festival was probably already over. Would the car get towed? Oh, jeez. She’d be grounded for a year. She’d never hear the end of this. And Mia’s parents would be even more freaked than hers.

  “Mia!” She stared at the motorcycle track ripped through the field. One track. One motorcycle. Her stomach clenched. What had happened to the other motorcycle? Where was Mia?

  Swallowing her panic, Darcy followed the track, shoving her way through the sea of waving grass. This trail had to lead to a road eventually.

  It was harder working her way through the tall grass than she would have imagined, and she was amazed that Comet had been able to plow through all this hay on a bike. It swirled around her and then arched back, so thick that most of the time she couldn’t even see her feet. The sun was over the hill now, and she missed her sunglasses, which Comet had probably stolen along with her phone. Plus, she really needed sunscreen. She was going to be deep-fried by the time she got back to her car.

  She put her hands to her face. Her cheeks were hot and sore. Shit, she was already deep-fried. How long had she been lying there? How much drug had been in that beer?

  Her throat was so dry it felt like it might crack. Now she understood why they called those shoe flaps tongues, because her own tongue felt like it was made out of slick nylon like the ones in the dusty running shoes on her feet. Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a convenient drinking fountain at the edge of the field? Didn’t farmers have to provide water for their field crews? They usually had water stations for the fruit pickers at the farms she’d visited in Whatcom County.

  Oh, yeah. No pickers here. No fruit. Just an ocean of grass.

  A loud buzz startled her. Her cell phone? Coming from the ground, but she couldn’t tell exactly where. It was angry-sounding, a continuous buzz-rattle, didn
’t really sound like a cell phone. Sounded more like . . .

  A chill cascaded from the crown of her head to her toes as she remembered that, unlike her home west of the Cascades, eastern Washington had rattlesnakes.

  Chapter 6

  Monday

  Mia was lying in a strange bed, her face pressed into a soft pillow. Her head throbbed, and her mouth felt like mice had made a nest near her tonsils. She pushed herself to a sitting position, and ran her dry tongue around her mouth, nausea swimming through her gut. A quilt slid off her shoulders and pooled around her feet. No, not a bed, really, just two mattresses stacked up.

  The room she was in was small, enclosed by rough wooden walls. The door was closed. What time was it? Where was she? Inside a shed, or maybe a barn? The light was dim in here. A bulb on the ceiling was enclosed in a metal cage contraption, but the light wasn’t on. Sunlight leaked in through a slender crack in the gray-brown wall, and one knothole near the ceiling streamed a shaft of brightness, a miniature spotlight that illuminated the far corner.

  So it was daytime. Crap, they’d missed the concerts last night?

  This was beyond embarrassing. Was she such a baby that a couple of beers knocked her out? Had they affected Darcy like that? They had to get on the road. It was almost a four-hour drive back to Bellingham.

  Where was everyone, anyway? She studied herself, running her hands over her jeans and T-shirt. Her jacket was laid across the foot of the mattress. Her socks were still on, but her shoes rested neatly, side-by-side, next to the bed.

  She slid her feet to the floor, which was, surprisingly, only packed dirt. Where the hell was she? This was a weird guest room—there was only the frameless bed, made up with pink sheets and a flowered comforter, and a small wooden table next to it. A granola bar and a bottle of water lay on top of the nightstand, if that was what it was intended to be, along with a single pink rose in a beer bottle.

  Across the room was a big plastic paint bucket, upended, with a roll of toilet paper on top. She hoped that didn’t indicate the use planned for that bucket. The public toilets at the campground had been gross enough.