Catch the Girl

by Melinda Woodhall

  The diner’s atmosphere was warm and welcoming compared with the chill outside. Barker sat at the counter and looked around with anxious eyes.

  “Afternoon. You need to see a menu?”

  A woman had appeared at Barker’s shoulder, her voice friendly but hurried. She wore a white apron over jeans and a t-shirt, and her graying hair was slicked back into a bun at the nape of her neck.

  “Sure, that’d be great.”

  Barker accepted the thin, paper menu but didn’t bother to open it. His eyes flicked around the room, searching for Taylor. A dozen tables and booths were arranged around the room, and the stools at the counter looked into a small kitchen. A tiny alcove on one side had been fashioned into a makeshift convenience store stocked with a limited selection of groceries and sundries.

  “Chester, you enjoyin’ this weather?”

  Barker looked over his shoulder. The man in the orange Gators cap was now sitting at a table in the corner with his buddies, grinning up an older man holding a tray of drinks.

  “Hell no, I hate the cold. And if you had any sense you would, too.”

  The old man passed out the drinks: a coke for the man in the orange cap and cans of Bud Light for his two passengers.

  “Oh, yeah, why’s that?”

  Chester raised an eyebrow and cocked his head.

  “Anyone’d think you didn’t grow up in citrus country, Buck. You should know a freeze means hard times all around.”

  The middle-aged couple at the next table looked over with grim expressions, nodding their heads at Chester’s words as the old man shuffled away. Barker noted the man’s uneven gait, and the faded tattoo on his forearm, then pretended to look down at the menu as the man passed by.

  “You ready to order?”

  Chester stood behind the counter looking at Barker. He didn’t smile but his voice was friendly.

  “I’ll just have a cup of black coffee, please.”

  As the old man turned to the coffee pot, Barker cleared his throat.

  “And I was wondering…is Taylor working today?”

  The coffee cup clattered as Chester arranged it on a saucer and set it clumsily in front of Barker. Thin brown liquid sloshed over the rim of the cup and dripped down the side.

  “Taylor?”

  Frown marks appeared between the man’s eyes, and he left the name hanging in the warm, slightly greasy, air. Barker nodded, careful to keep his features neutral and relaxed. No need to let the man know he was desperate to find his daughter. Desperation scared people away and kept them quiet.

  “Yeah, Taylor Barker. She a waitress here, right?”

  Chester shook his head, and for one heart stopping minute Barker thought he had gotten it all wrong, that the one lead he’d managed to find after months of searching had been a dead-end.

  “Well, she used to work here, but that was a few years back. She’s moved on. Too smart and too damn pretty for this old place I guess.”

  Barker swallowed hard, his disappointment at not finding his daughter made bearable by the knowledge that he’d uncovered a clue. It was a start.

  “So, where she’d go once she quit here?”

  Barker wasn’t surprised when the old man raised an eyebrow, put both hands on his bony hips, and puffed out his chest.

  “Aren’t you a little old to be chasing after a girl her age?”

  Barker didn’t react. The decades he’d spent as a detective had taught him how to read people, taught him how to determine the best way to get the information he needed. He could see the man in front of him wasn’t the type to suffer fools.

  “I’m her father.”

  Barker let the words sink in as he sipped at his coffee.

  Chester stiffened, then sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and turned to the waitress who had given Barker the menu.

  “Minnie? I’m goin’ out back. You watch the front for me.”

  The woman nodded and Chester motioned for Barker to follow him through the little kitchen and out the back door. His limp became more pronounced as he stepped out onto hard-packed dirt. The area behind the diner held a dumpster, a rusty propane tank and a baby blue El Camino that, from what Barker could see, had been carefully maintained over the years.

  Barker stuck out a hand.

  “I’m Peter Barker. I live over in Willow Bay.”

  Chester ignored the hand.

  “And I’m Chester Gosbey. I own this diner. Have for near about forty years. Took it on after I got back from Vietnam.”

  Barker nodded, his eyes moving to the tattoo on the man’s arm. His uncle had come back from the war with something similar.

  Chester cleared his throat and put a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. It was noon, and the sun was high and bright, even though the air didn’t seem any warmer.

  “So, you’re Taylor’s father? The one she was runnin’ from?”

  Chester’s words hit Barker in the gut. His jaw clenched along with his fists, and he couldn’t stop himself from snapping back at the old man’s quietly spoken accusation.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s me.”

  Barker ran a hand through his thick thatch of dark hair, which, in the last few years, had become increasingly sprinkled with gray.

  “According to my daughter I did everything wrong. I’m a selfish father…responsible for her mother’s death. But I’m here now, and no matter how angry she is, I need to find her.”

  Chester didn’t speak, he just looked at Barker, who stared defiantly into the old man’s pale blue eyes. Barker thought only old folks seemed to have eyes that particular shade of blue; it was the color of weariness and faded memories.

  “Look, I just need to know she’s okay.”

  The words came out as a plea, and Barker dropped his gaze, his anger draining away into the cold air.

  “I wish I could help you, Mr. Barker, but when Taylor left here, she didn’t leave a forwarding address.”

  Barker’s fists unclenched and his hands fell limply to his side.

  “Did she say anything about where she was heading?”

  “She said she wanted a quiet place to find herself, or some such thing. She was a troubled girl. Downright depressed, I’d say.”

  A sick ache started in Barker’s stomach at the thought of Taylor sad and alone. He looked out into the dense spray of trees and scrub that surrounded the old place and wondered where she could be now.

  “You think she might have done something stupid? Maybe even hurt herself?”

  Chester shook his head.

  “Your daughter seemed like a smart girl to me. I’m sure she wouldn’t have done anything stupid.”

  Barker thought he saw a flash of pity in the man’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a curious frown.

  “How’d you hear she was workin’ here anyway?”

  Barker shrugged, feeling inept as he thought of how little he’d been able to uncover about his daughter’s whereabouts.

  “Somebody saw one of my posts on Facebook asking about her. Said they’d seen her waiting tables at a diner out by the preserve.”

  Barker didn’t mention the derogatory comments the person had made about the diner and its clientele. No need to insult this old man who appeared to care about Taylor, and, as far as Barker knew, was the last person to have seen her before she disappeared without a trace.

  Minnie stuck her head out the back door and rolled her eyes.

  “Buck Henry’s tryin’ to pay with a hundred-dollar bill. I need change.”

  Chester nodded and waved her away.

  “Be right there.”

  Once the door had shut behind her, Chester turned to Barker.

  “I suggest you go on back to Willow Bay, Mr. Barker. When Taylor’s ready to come home, she will. Kids usually do in the end.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Barker headed back to the highway with a heavy heart, picking over everything Chester Gosbey had said.

  Does the old man know more than he�
�s saying?

  Barker knew he should be planning out his next steps, but he couldn’t concentrate. The thought of Taylor waiting tables in the backwoods diner made his mind churn with questions.

  How’d she end up there? And why’d she leave? Is she still running from me, or is something else going on?

  Squinting into the distance, Barker pulled down the sun visor to cut back the glare, seeing the two men at the last possible minute. He wrenched the wheel just in time to avoid hitting a truck that had pulled off on the narrow shoulder, partially blocking the road. The men had been standing by the truck, staring down into the engine, oblivious of any cars going by.

  The Prius screeched to a halt and Barker stepped out, his pulse still jumping at the near miss.

  “You guys nearly got run over.”

  The two young men stared over at Barker in surprise, apparently unaware they’d almost been killed. When they didn’t speak, Barker sighed and walked toward them.

  “You need some help?”

  The men were both young and slim. One had a blonde crewcut while the other was a redhead, his hair a frizzy halo around freckled cheeks. The blonde man finally nodded.

  “Truck broke down. Not sure why. Neither of us know much about engines.”

  Barker smiled, realizing the men were only kids really. Neither looked to be more than twenty-years-old. Younger even than Taylor.

  “I don’t know much about engines myself, but you can use my cell phone if you want to call for a service truck or a tow.”

  The redhead shook his head and took a step back.

  “We don’t have anyone to call, mister.”

  The blonde nodded, his eyes scanning the road behind Barker and finding the blue Prius. He looked back at Barker, then down at the ground.

  “Okay,” Barker said, nodding toward the car. “I can give you two a lift if there’s somewhere you can go for help.”

  “That’d be nice, thanks,” the redhead agreed, already walking toward the Prius.

  “Brother Zac, we can’t just leave the truck here like this,” the blonde man said. “Someone could drive past and steal everything.”

  Barker raised his eyebrows at the comment.

  “Brother Zac? What…are you two monks or something?”

  Barker’s tone was amused, but the men didn’t smile.

  “No, we belong to the CSL,” Zac explained, his eyes wide and earnest. “Our community is like a family; everyone’s a brother or sister. I’m Brother Zac, and this is Brother Eli.”

  “CSL?” Barker asked. “What does that stand for?”

  “It’s the Congregation of Supreme Love,” Eli muttered, his small eyes flashing and his chin jutting out.

  Barker put up a placating hand.

  “I didn’t mean any offense.”

  He sighed and waved over toward the Prius.

  “So, you all want a ride?”

  “Nah, one of us can hike back through the woods for help while the other one waits with the truck. It’ll be safer that way.”

  Barker saw Zac’s face fall at Eli’s stiff words. He looked at the big white box truck. The words CSL Organic Produce had been painted on the side in green letters.

  “Okay, suit yourselves, but you might want to push your truck further onto the shoulder. Otherwise the next car that drives past might not miss you like I did.”

  Zac nodded, his face still downcast.

  “I can steer if you two want to push,” Barker offered.

  Eli stepped in front of the driver’s side door protectively.

  “No. It’s like I said…we don’t need any help.”

  Barker nodded, his detective radar giving off a warning.

  Brother Eli doesn’t want me near his truck. I wonder what he’s hiding.

  Looking past the men into the thick woods, Barker’s curiosity rose even higher.

  “Your, uh... community…it’s in the woods?”

  Zac nodded, his arm automatically swinging up toward the trees.

  “Yeah, the CSL compound’s over that way. It’s-”

  But his words were cut off by Eli’s impatient rebuke.

  “No need to waste this man’s time, Brother Zac. I’m sure he needs to get going.”

  Barker decided to give up. He didn’t need to spend his time trying to help someone who just wanted to be left alone.

  Giving Zac an apologetic shrug, he headed back toward the Prius. He hadn’t gone far when his thoughts returned to Taylor. He reached for the photo in his pocket, checking to make sure it was still there. Clutching the photo, he swung around.

  “Hey…can I ask you guys for just one favor before I go?”

  He hurried back toward the truck, holding out the picture of Taylor he’d started to carry with him wherever he went.

  Zac was already heading into the trees. Apparently he’d drawn the short straw and would have to traverse the thick woods to the commune to get help.

  “Have either of you seen this girl around here?”

  Eli stared at the picture with angry eyes, then shouted over to Zac, who had begun to trudge back toward the truck.

  “You go on, Zac. I can handle this.”

  When Zac hesitated, Eli’s face reddened.

  “I said go on. We don’t have all day.”

  He turned back to Barker and shoved the picture away, his hands balled into tight fists, his eyes angry slits in his narrow face.

  “I never seen that girl. We don’t meet many folks outside the compound. We like to be left on our own.”

  Sweat dripped from Eli’s face in spite of the cold air, and Barker began to wonder if the young man was on something.

  It’s either drugs or serious anger issues. Maybe both.

  Whatever it was, Barker suspected the man had recognized Taylor’s photo, and that he’d wanted to stop Zac from seeing it.

  Barker put his hands up in surrender and backed toward his car.

  “Whatever you say, Brother.”

  But when Eli turned away, he slipped out his phone and snapped a picture of the truck’s license plate. As soon as he got back on the highway he would call Detective Nessa Ainsley. His old partner still worked in the Willow Bay Police Department. She’d run the plates for him.

  With help from Nessa maybe I can find out exactly who Brother Eli really is, and what it is he’s hiding.

  Chapter Six

  The victim’s statement in the police report made Leo Steele’s stomach turn. He wanted to close the folder and never open it again, but he knew that wasn’t an option. Criminal defense attorneys didn’t have the luxury of being squeamish. The man charged with the nauseating crime was his client, and Leo was determined to get the flimsy case against him thrown out before the WBPD railroaded another innocent man into jail for a crime he hadn’t committed.

  Oscar Hernandez had been arrested following a brutal attack on a local woman the week before. The crime had taken place in an upscale gated community that was home to many of Willow Bay’s most prominent citizens, including Mayor Hadley, and had caused outrage throughout the town.

  In the flurry of news reports and press statements that followed, the WBPD had rushed to find a suspect. The battered department was desperate to take attention off of the public relations nightmare they’d been going through since the previous chief of police, Douglas Kramer, had been arrested for a series of kidnappings and murders that had gone back more than a decade.

  Leo knew the department couldn’t afford any more bad press. He figured they’d jumped on Oscar in an attempt to calm the public. All they had to hear was that he’d once dated the victim and had a prior arrest for assault. This had given the police a convenient excuse to question the young man, who had agreed to speak with them without a lawyer present. By the end of the interview Oscar was in handcuffs and the lead investigator on the case, Detective Marc Ingram, had made up his mind that Oscar was the perp.

  By the time Leo had been assigned as Oscar’s public defender, the arrest, along with Oscar’s mugsho
t, had been the lead story on Channel Ten’s nightly news, diminishing any hope of finding an impartial jury in Willow Bay.

  Leo ran a tired hand through his dark hair, mentally sorting through the information he’d reviewed so far, still disturbed by the violence of the crime. The details in the report didn’t match up with the quiet, scared man Leo had visited in the jail that morning.

  A soft tinkling announced the arrival of someone at the outer door to the law office, and Leo used it as a welcome excuse to push the folder away.

  “Still fighting the good fight, Leo?”

  Pete Barker strode into the office before Leo had a chance to stand up. He crossed the room and dropped into the chair in front of Leo’s desk without waiting for an invitation to sit down.

  “I’m still trying. Your old pal, Detective Ingram, isn’t making it any easier though.”

  Barker nodded, rolling his eyes at the mention of his ex-partner.

  “He always was a pain in my ass. Glad he’s moved on to someone else’s ass now.”

  “Very funny, Barker,” Leo said, noting the bags under the retired detective’s eyes and the way Barker’s hands were clenched into fists on his lap.

  I’m guessing it’s not a good time to complain about my own problems.

  Leo sat up straight in his chair and folded his hands in front of him on the desk. Barker wouldn’t have come by just to chat. Something was up and Leo needed to be ready to listen.

  “Okay, so what’s going on? New info on Taylor?”

  Barker nodded and pulled out a sheet of paper that he’d shoved into the pocket of his black bomber jacket.

  “Yeah, I got a lead that Taylor had been spotted waiting tables at some diner near the Cottonmouth Preserve. When I went out there the old guy that owns the place said she had worked there.”

  Leo felt a bolt of adrenaline; this was the first real lead Barker had shared with him in months. If Taylor had been spotted, there was now a physical trail to follow.

  “Hold on, don’t get too excited,” Barker said, reading the hope on Leo’s face. “The old timer said Taylor took off almost two years ago. He’s not sure where she went. Said I should just go home and wait for her.”