Page 43 of Last Girls Alive
“That’s epic.”
Twenty-One
Wednesday 1705 hours
A light mist filtered over the countryside, covering the sky and making the hour seem later than it was. The leaves were falling at a quickened pace and the usual brilliant shades of nature’s greens were just a bit duller than normal. Katie flipped on the windshield wipers and grumbled that the blades were in dire need of replacing as every swipe made a grinding noise and streaked her view.
A soft whine emitted from the back, as Cisco’s head and attentive ears pushed their way in between the driver and passenger’s seats. He gazed out the window and began to softly pant.
“I hear you, big guy,” said McGaven as he peered through the streaky windshield. “I hate rain too.”
“It’s not rain. It’s barely misting,” said Katie as she punched the accelerator and they rocketed down the road.
“Where’s the fire?”
“Everything in a homicide investigation is a fire—that’s homicide 101.”
“Yeah, well I want to get there in one piece.”
“Haven’t you always?” she said.
“Point taken.”
Katie drove toward a popular tourist area where many visitors stopped to buy supplies and gifts before heading off on various hiking trails and to local camping areas. She slowed her speed at the high street and began searching for a little shop called Sunshine Gifts & Antiques amongst many quaint shops with colorful banners fluttering in the breeze.
Spotting a parking spot, Katie said, “This place is as good as any,” and swung the car into the place with ease. For a moment she watched as a couple walked by slowly drinking coffee from a local java house and stopping to admire a window display before moving on. Cisco put his muzzle to the open crack of a back window trying to get a noseful of all the wonderful smells of the streets and people passing by the car.
Scanning the small shops, Katie and McGaven quickly found the gift shop and entered. Pushing the door open, a high-pitched three-step chime alerted the staff that someone new had arrived. The shop was small, but filled with gifts of every kind: key chains; journal books; candles; postcards; toys; jewelry; books; T-shirts and aprons printed with silly phrases. These items filled every inch of the space and most of the walls.
“Hello?” said Katie patiently waiting.
The smell of incense was sickly and overbearing. Katie hadn’t given any thought of her anxiety in more than a day, but being in a cluttered store made her uneasy. Her mind kept flashing to the smell of smoke and burning buildings, making her tense and lightheaded. Once that uneasy feeling had been released, she knew what followed—fight or flight.
As usual, McGaven stayed near the door in case someone tried to sneak up on them or do a runner.
“Hello?” Katie repeated, her voice sounding funny and far away in her ears. She had the strong urge to run out of the store and just keep going.
Not now…
A shuffling noise came behind the counter and a short woman wearing a tie-dyed dress in a dizzying array of blue, yellow, and pink appeared. She had too many colorful bangles on her wrists and every finger carried an oversized ring adorned with colorful stones. Her eyes slowly scrutinized Katie, taking in her badge and gun. “Yes, can I help you?” she said with a forced smile.
Katie knew it wasn’t Tanis Jones because the woman was easily in her sixties.
“Hi, I’m Detective Scott from the sheriff’s department. And this is Deputy McGaven. We were given information that a Tanis Jones works here.”
“No,” the woman replied. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
Katie watched as the old woman could barely keep her eye contact and it was clear that she was lying. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
“I’m Mandy, the owner of the shop.”
“Nice to meet you, Mandy, but we have received credible information that Tanis Jones worked here, or still might be working here. Are you sure she isn’t here?”
“I’m sorry, Detective.”
“I tell you what. Here’s my card with my personal cell phone number on the back. If you happen to remember Tanis, please give this to her.” Katie put her business card on the counter. “Tanis isnotin trouble, by any means. I would like to speak with her about her friend Candace and anything that she tells me is confidential. Alright?”
The woman nodded but made no move to pick up the card.
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