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As the guests drove off, he came back in, went to another man at the bell station.
That one, a couple decades older, shot Sloan a look, frowned, nodded.
She rose as Rusk crossed to her.
“I can take some time now. Ah, there’s a break room in the back if that’s okay.”
“Sounds good. Have you worked here long?” she asked, though since she’d run him she already knew.
“A couple of years. I’m taking some courses, accounting, so I mostly cover evenings.”
“You and Zach worked the same shift.”
He led her through to a small break room. “Yeah, mostly. Ah, you want something?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“I’m going to get a ginger ale.”
When he had, he sat with her at a small table, then turned the can in slow circles.
“You know, Zach and I weren’t real tight. I mean I liked him fine. Like him fine,” he corrected. “But we didn’t, you know, go out for a beer or hang out and like that. He has a kid and all that, and I’m taking courses. He’s older, you know, and got seniority. Not like he shoved that in your face. He’s nice. You know how he had some shit—stuff—a while back.”
“The divorce, the attempted suicide.”
“He was a little sketchy when he first came back, but that eased up. Man, he lived for that kid. Days before he went wherever, he talked about taking the kid to see monster trucks.”
“He had tickets for that Saturday.”
“Yeah. I don’t get that deal myself, but the kid was crazy for them, so Zach got crazy for them. He knew a bunch of those weird names and all that. He went and bought the ear protection for the boy, because they’re really loud.”
“He left right before you that night.”
“Yeah, I was still getting changed. He said, ‘See you Monday.’ And I told him to have a good weekend like you do. And he said how he couldn’t miss. He was really happy, kind of whistling a tune.”
“Whistling?” That hadn’t been in the file.
“Yeah, I forgot that before. I don’t know the tune, right? Just something that sounded happy. We’d had a bunch of check-ins. I had a solid three hundred in tips. He probably had more. So happy.”
“You finished changing, then went out.”
“Yeah, just a few minutes after him. Just five minutes maybe.”
“You saw his car was still in the lot.”
He turned the can a few more times.
“I really didn’t. I was looking toward my own. I wanted to get home, unwind some, get a good night’s sleep so I could study most of the next day.”
“Walk me through it from there.”
“Okay.” He finally opened the ginger ale, took a drink. “As I headed toward my car, this woman walked over. I told the other cops I just couldn’t describe her much. She was all bundled up. It was really cold that night. She had like a hat, scarf, parka—I think. Anyway, she asked for directions, said she’d taken a wrong turn. So I gave her directions, and she said thanks and something about her daughter or sister or somebody wondering why she was late.”
“This was after midnight.”
“Yeah. Not long after, I guess. I went to my car, and she walked back toward this van. Maybe white or beige, maybe light gray. I don’t know if I’d have noticed, but as I was getting in my car, she pulled out and gave me a wave.”
“You didn’t see anyone else in the van?”