She swiped at a tear, leaving a dark streak of dirt across her cheek. “I couldn’t believe that nobody else would pick me up!”
Paul laid a hand on his daughter’s forearm. “You’re here now. You’re okay, Darcy.”
Across the table, Robin Valdez made a squeaking sound, and she pressed a fist against her lips. Finn knew the woman was wondering where her daughter was, if Mia was okay.
“What bastard, Darcy?” Finn asked again.
The girl flicked a hand in the air as if he was an annoyance. “The bastard who gave me a ride on his bike. And I thought he was cute.” She slapped her palm against her forehead. “Majorly stupid.”
“The bastard’s name?” He held his pen above his notebook. “Cooper Trigg?”
“Cooper?” The teenager blinked at him. “Why would you think that? I don’t know any Cooper.”
“We saw a boy that Robin knew on a security video, Darcy,” her mother told her. “Cooper Trigg. He was standing behind you and Mia in line at the concession stand. There were two other boys there with you and Mia, too.”
“Oh.” The teen swiped at her eyes. “No, those two guys left early, the creeps, said they had to go pick up their girlfriends. I went for a ride with another guy.”
“Name?” Finn asked again.
She glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes. Mascara was smeared in rings around her eyes, giving her a bruised appearance. No wonder nobody had picked her up. Darcy looked like a homeless druggie who had been sleeping rough.
Finally she said, “Comet.”
“Seriously?” Agent Foster asked as she wrote down the word.
“We were just having fun. We were pretending it was like the Sixties and everyone had these silly nicknames. He said Comet, so I said I was Blackbird.” Darcy tugged at a lock of black hair to demonstrate why.
“And Mia?” Keith Valdez prompted, leaning forward.
“Uh.” She flattened her hands on the table for a moment, thinking. “Sunshine. Mia was Sunshine.”
Keith was fidgeting, his hands clenching and loosening as if he wanted to shake the girl. “Where’s Mia, Darcy?”
Darcy’s eyes darted around the room. “You honestly don’t know where Mia is? You haven’t heard from her? Omigod . . .”
“So you were with Comet, on a motorcycle?” Finn asked.
Darcy nodded. “Omigod, Mia’s really not back?”
“You were with Comet, and Mia was with—?” prompted Agent Foster.
Andrea burst through the door with paper bags in hand. Putting them on the table, she pulled out a sandwich, unwrapped it, and handed it to her daughter. Darcy mashed her dirty fingers into it and tore off a huge chunk, chewing with her mouth open. The motion made her chapped lip bleed, and she touched a fingertip to the split. Then she took a sip of coffee. When she put down the cup, Andrea slid the cup away and replaced it with a bottle of vitamin water.
Finn tapped Darcy gently on the arm. “And Mia was with—?”
The girl thought for another long minute as she chewed. After swallowing, she looked up. “Rusty?”
“Did Rusty have red hair?” Foster asked.
“No. Dusty, that was it.” She took another bite. “Blond.”
Finn thought the tuna salad sandwich smelled pretty good. “Last names?”
Darcy shook her head. “No, that was part of the fun. We just all used made-up names, like we were hippies or something.”
Finn made a conscious effort to relax his jaw. “And Mia was riding with Dusty on his motorcycle?”
Darcy nodded, then pushed the last of the sandwich into her mouth and chewed. Placing her hand on another sandwich, she glanced at her mother. Andrea nodded and Darcy unwrapped it.
Finn slid the printout of the foursome at the concession stand from the envelope and showed the teen. “Is this Dusty and Comet?”
“Jeez, no.” She giggled. “That’s um . . . Daniel and”— she trained her attention on the ceiling as she tried to remember—“Brandon. No, Brendan, that was it. They said they were staying in the campground, too, but I don’t know where, because like I said, they left early.”
Which reminded Finn that he still needed to talk to the rest of the festival attendees who were camping in the area. Maybe one of them was more observant than Darcy or Grant Dekoster. Had this Daniel and Brendan really been staying in the campground, or had they just dropped in to troll the attendees?
“And this guy?” Finn pointed to Cooper Trigg’s face in the photo between Mia and Darcy.
“What about him?” Darcy asked.
“That’s Cooper Trigg.” Andrea touched her daughter’s arm. “He’s kind of a bad guy. Did he seem like he knew Mia?”
Confusion twisted Darcy’s features. “No. Why would he? I don’t think he ever even talked to us. This is a really lame photo. He does look sorta like Dusty, but . . .” She shook her head. “No, I’m sure Dusty didn’t have an earring. I would have noticed that. But why do you care about this guy?” She tapped the photo.
“Well . . .” Robin Valdez began.
“Never mind.” Finn chopped a hand through the air to cut off the discussion of Cooper Trigg’s past history. Trigg still might be involved somehow, but it was clear that Darcy believed he wasn’t one of the boys she and Mia rode off with.
“But maybe he was C,” Darcy suggested.
“What?” her father asked.
“Like the letter C.” The teen drew the letter in the air with a finger. “Someone left a note on the car and signed it ‘C.’” She rolled her eyes. “Like we were supposed to know who that was.”
“What did the note say?” Finn asked.
She took a bite of the second sandwich—another tuna salad, according to Finn’s nose—and chewed for a few seconds. “Well, it was for Mia, actually, and it said something like ‘I knew that was you. What were you doing with that other guy? Here’s my number, let’s hook up.’ And then it just said ‘C.’”
Agent Foster stopped scribbling on her notepad. “Did you keep the note?”
Darcy shook her head. “No. Mia didn’t have clue who ‘C’ was, so she threw the note away.”
Now Finn wanted to strangle the teenager. But of course she couldn’t have known what was coming.
Agent Foster refocused. “Darcy, please describe Comet and Dusty.”
The teen twisted the cap off the water bottle. “Hmm. They both looked like farm boys, I guess.”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”
“Their hair was, like, pretty short, and they were both really tan, and their hair was, like, bleached by the sun. Comet had the bluest eyes.” Darcy sounded dreamy about that for a minute, then frowned, probably at the memory of being dumped by Mr. Blue Eyes. “And they didn’t have beards or mustaches or anything.”
“Earrings? Studs? Jewelry?” Foster asked.
“Umm.” The girl studied the ceiling. “No earrings or studs.”
“Tattoos?”
“None that I saw. I think Dusty had a watch, which is a little weird.”
Finn glanced at his own watch. Was it really only 12:55?
“The kids mostly use their cell phones to tell time now,” Andrea explained.
Robin Valdez clutched the sleeve of the girl’s jacket. “Darcy, where’s Mia?”
The girl shook her head. “I don’t know. She was on the bike with Dusty, and after we had this picnic, they were bringing us back to the concert and—”
A tear spilled down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, leaving another trail of dirt across her face. “And that’s the last thing I remember, being on the bike with Comet, and Mia riding with Dusty. Then I woke up in that damn field. And I couldn’t find my cell. It must have fallen out of my pocket. Or Comet stole it, along with my backpack.”
Robin removed the hand she had clamped across her mouth. “They drugged you.”
Foster nodded. “Sounds like maybe Rohypnol.”
“They roofied us?” Darcy glanced
at her parents. “I’m so sorry. And I’m so stupid.”
“Oh, Dar,” Andrea began. “Did they—“
Her daughter slashed her hand through the air between them to cut off her mother’s question. “I didn’t get raped. At least, I don’t think so.”
Robin bit down on a knuckle, her eyes shining with tears.
Finn wanted to ask why Darcy seemed unsure, but he felt like Foster needed to do that. Or maybe he could broach the subject later with Andrea Ireland. “Back to describing the boys,” he urged. “Tall, short? Skinny, fat? Moles, tattoos? Hair color? Eye color?”
“They were, like, nondescript,” the teen told him. “Comet was the tallest—that’s why he was mine. Maybe five ten or so. Blue eyes, like I said. Dusty was a couple of inches shorter, and I don’t have a clue what color his eyes were. They weren’t fat or skinny, and like I already said, they both had tan skin and bleached-out hair—you know, brown underneath but almost white on top. And they had muscles—you know, like farm boys. But they weren’t exactly boys.” She flashed a worried glance at her parents. “They were probably more like twenty-five.”
“Oh, Darcy,” Paul Ireland groaned. “What—”
Finn held up a hand to halt the fatherly criticism. “What were they wearing?”
“Blue jeans. Black boots. T-shirts—Comet’s was blue and Dusty’s was orange. Helmets, of course. And they had helmets for us, too,” she quickly added, glancing at her parents before turning back to Finn. “They both had these cool black leather jackets with a dead possum on the back.”
That confirmed what Dekoster had told him. Roadkill Riders.
Andrea made a face. “A dead possum?”
“Or maybe it was an armadillo, but on its back, legs in the air, like it was dead.” The girl threw back her head, stuck out her tongue, and lifted her arms up to demonstrate. She seemed to be recovering quickly from her trauma.
“Any words or letters on their clothes?” Finn asked.
Darcy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Did their jackets say Roadkill Riders?” Finn asked.
Foster glared at him. He was leading the witness, so to speak. But this was all going way too slowly.
“Oh.” Darcy picked up the water bottle. “Maybe they did. I was distracted by the dead possum.”
“Roadkill Riders was the Meetup site I mentioned,” Finn told Agent Foster. “I’m waiting for email from the owner.”
Foster nodded at him, then leaned close and touched the girl’s arm. “Can you describe the motorcycles?”
“Um.” Darcy took a swallow of water. “The one I was on was red. I think Mia’s was blue.” She shook her head. “Omigod, Mia!”
“The motorcycles,” Foster pressed.
Darcy sniffed and swallowed. “They had black leather seats and silver trim. And they both had these upright things in back to keep the passengers on or tie stuff to or something.”
Finn made notes, but had to work hard to keep his expression impassive at the generally useless information. “Do you remember any brand names, like Honda or Harley Davidson or Kawasaki or—? Do you remember any words or numbers or letters on the bikes?”
Darcy pressed her lips together for a moment, then said, “Uh, no. I don’t really know motorcycles.”
“Do you think you’d recognize photos of those motorcycle types if you saw them?” Agent Foster asked.
Darcy blinked, gave the agent a slight smile. “Maybe.”
She studied the tabletop for a moment, and then said, “Dad, the car door got scratched somehow in the campground.”
“I saw,” Paul said. “Don’t worry about it. The important thing is that you’re safe.”
“But what about Mia?” Darcy swiveled to face Robin Valdez. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Valdez.”
Robin clapped a hand over her mouth, but still burst into loud sobs. Keith said nothing as he put his arms around his wife, but his cheeks were wet, too.
Chapter 17
Wednesday
“I just want to go home!” Darcy whined. She turned to her mother. “Mom, can’t we just go home? I’m so tired. And I’m so dirty, I’m disgusting. And I’m still hungry and thirsty. Dad?” She twisted around to her father. “We could just go home, couldn’t we?”
Finn hated to be the bad guy, but someone needed to be. “I’m sorry, Darcy, but I need you to tell me everything you remember. We need to know everything so we can find Mia.”
“I’m so tired.” The teenager crossed her arms on the table in front of her and then pressed her forehead down on them. “And I already told you everything,” she mumbled through her crossed arms.
Robin leaned close to the girl. “There’s got to be something you remember, Darcy, that could help Mia. Please, Darcy.”
Agent Foster raised her gaze from her notes and said in a no-nonsense voice, “Darcy. Sit up.”
The teen reluctantly did as she was told, scowling at the FBI agent.
Foster put her hand on top of Darcy’s. “I realize we’ve been at this for hours. I know you’ve been through hell, I know you’re exhausted, and I think you’re a hero to find your way back. You’ve been incredibly brave. But now, we really need your help, Darcy. I know you want to help Mia.”
Darcy nodded, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over at any moment.
Agent Foster turned to Finn. “You said you knew the caretakers here, Detective Finn? Do you think you could get them to open up the concession stand, maybe come up with a cold soda or two—” She looked toward Darcy.
“Dr. Pepper, please,” Darcy said. And maybe some chips?”
Agent Foster continued. “And Mom”—she glanced at Andrea—“do you think you could come up with some clean clothes for Darcy? Maybe there are some in her car? We need to take the clothes she has on.”
Finn pulled out his cell and stood up to step outside and call the Bradys. As Andrea preceded him through the door, he heard Alice Foster say, “When everything’s arranged, we’ll take a little break, but until then, we’ll just keep talking, okay?”
He made the call as short as possible and then ducked back in before he missed much.
“How did you first meet Comet and Dusty?” Foster was asking.
“They rode their motorcycles up to us in the campground and asked us if we wanted to go for a ride.” Darcy shot a glance at her father. “I didn’t think that was a good idea, but Mia was, like, ‘Oh yeah, that’ll be an adventure!’” The girl’s eyes flicked briefly toward Robin and Keith Valdez and then back to Agent Foster.
“You said they took you on a picnic? How long did you ride before you stopped?”
“Ummm—maybe forty minutes? I didn’t look at my cell.”
Finn rubbed a finger across his chin. The kid’s reliance on her cell phone for every shred of information was grating on his nerves. Could teenagers not know what day it was or not add two plus two without a cell phone now? When the electromagnetic burst took out the electrical network, would everyone under thirty just stagger around like zombies with blank expressions on their faces, completely clueless? It was an unsettling image.
He struggled to bring his thoughts back to the present.
“ . . . all twisty and loopy and up and down, and we finally ended up on top of this hill where you could see, like, forever.” Darcy held her hands wide to demonstrate vast distances. “Well, for miles, anyway.”
This description might be useful to pinpoint an area. He leaned in toward the girl. “Sounds like a cool place, Darcy. What could you see?”
“All these fields. All different colors, like a patchwork quilt.”
“Any buildings? Houses, barns?”
Darcy thought for a moment. “I guess there could have been one or two, but I don’t remember.”
Finn thought longingly of Neema, who would probably have noticed a barn or least some sort of pattern. His thoughts flashed back to the purple swoosh the gorilla had noticed that helped to crack the Ivy Morgan case. “Were there any specia
l shapes?”
The teen’s dark eyebrows knit together. “Shapes?”
All heads turned to focus on him. Finn waved a hand in the air. “You know, how sometimes roads make S-shapes, or the plowing of a field is a spiral, or a patch of trees is a triangle?”
Darcy shook her head. “No, I don’t remember anything like that. It was just squares, brown, gold, and green. But there was one tree I remember, because it was the only one, and it was right in the middle of this gold square.”
“That’s good, Darcy.” He made a note. Maybe the drone club could do aerial photography that would help. Maybe Google Earth would show the gold square and the tree. Otherwise, he might have to drive to the top of every hill within fifty miles of the Columbia Gorge.
Foster took over, asking about what the boys had brought to the picnic, whether the containers had any markings, if they had a cooler for the beer. She was good, realizing that any small detail might be helpful. But Darcy had clearly been more focused on Comet’s blue eyes than on anything else.
Then Brynne Brady arrived with keys to the concession stand, Andrea Ireland trailing her, bearing a stack of clothes she’d rummaged from the Ford Edge.
“You’re doing great, Darcy,” Agent Foster praised. She stood up from her chair and stretched. “Take a break, wash up, change your clothes, have a cold drink.”
Darcy stood up and walked toward the restroom door, following her mother.
“I’m coming, too,” Alice Foster announced, trailing the mother and daughter into the tiny restroom.
Finn knew it was a good idea to stay with the witness. If anything significant happened, if the girl had visible bruises, or if any words of importance passed between Darcy and her mother, the FBI agent wanted to be there. Before she vanished through the door, Foster tossed a look at Finn and said, “And then we’ll start all over again.”
Finn stood up and stretched his arms over his head. The Valdezes were watching him expectantly, so he suppressed the groan that nearly escaped his lips. Their daughter was still out there somewhere. It was going to be another long, long evening.
The Only One Left Page 11
