Page 23 of The Graveyard Girls (Detective Ellie Reeves #11)
TWENTY-TWO
Daisy’s Diner
Ellie phoned the sheriff in Crooked Creek, Sheriff Bryce Waters, and filled him in on the identity of the girl.
“All right, I’ll give a press conference, circulate her pic to all law enforcement agencies across the state and set up the tip line,” he agreed.
“Thanks. Deputy Eastwood and I are canvassing the town, Ranger McClain is searching the site where the remains were found, then I’ll contact the original investigator of Bonnie Sylvester’s case and the foster parents.”
“Copy that. Let me know if you need more backup.”
Special Agent Derrick Fox’s face taunted her. He’d been her partner on the last few cases. But he was still recovering from an injury and the situation between her, Cord and Derrick had ended on an awkward note. She’d have to handle this one on her own.
She thanked Bryce, then ended the call and turned to Shondra. “I’ll check the diner if you want to canvass store clerks and business owners.”
Shondra nodded. “On it, Detective.”
Ellie smiled, grateful to have Shondra on her side. They’d spent a lot of time together through work and she’d become a friend, not just a coworker.
Ellie exited the Jeep and Shondra slid out and headed to the Dollar Store next door. Smart thinking. If Bonnie had been homeless and come to this town on her own before being murdered, most likely she’d had very little money, so she might have shopped there for basic toiletries.
A chime tinkled above the door as she entered the diner, and she was struck by the field of bright yellow daisies painted on the mural on the far wall.
An odd contrast to the desolate parched land surrounding the graveyard.
Daisy was obviously using her namesake to inspire cheer and hope into the near-dead town.
A buttercup-blond woman with a beehive hairdo and a smile as big as Texas stood behind the diner counter laughing at something one of the customers said. From her nametag and demeanor, Daisy.
A quick sweep of the room and Ellie spotted Sheriff Clint Wallace seated in a booth in the corner with a young woman draped all over him. A teenage waitress with bright purple and orange streaks in her brown hair popped over with a pad and pen to take their order.
Voices rumbled through the crowded room, and she forced herself not to react as heads and stares turned her way.
The damn press made it impossible to investigate incognito.
Smalltown rumor mills and TV, which was probably the prime entertainment here, meant everyone in town probably knew her name and her reason for being in Brambletown.
Which could prove helpful or give people time to fabricate alibis and hide whatever they knew or didn’t know. The sad truth was that most people flat out didn’t want to get involved.
Especially if they harbored secrets of their own.
To keep the peace with local law enforcement, she crossed the room to the booth where Clint Wallace was accepting an iced tea and smiling at the young waitress. The girl was just a teenager but even she gave him a flirtatious wink as she waltzed away.
Ellie rolled her eyes, then pasted on a stony expression as she stopped at the table. The moment Clint saw her, he threw his shoulders back in a defensive gesture. “Detective,” he said grimly. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon again.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes, ignoring the irritated sigh the woman emitted. She obviously didn’t appreciate her date being interrupted.
“Trust me, it’s strictly official business,” Ellie said. “I won’t be leaving until the murder in this town is solved.”
His jaw tightened. “My people can handle it.”
“Maybe so, but like I said earlier, I’m not leaving until we get justice for the victim.” She folded her arms across her chest, chin raised. “And just so you know, I have information to share.”
His brow shot up at that.
Ellie glanced pointedly at his lunch date. “We should speak in private.”
He squeezed the woman’s slender hand. “Be right back, Vanessa.”
The woman emitted an exasperated sigh. Ellie ignored her and led the sheriff toward the hall across from the restrooms.
“We IDed the remains recovered near the cemetery,” Ellie said.
Surprise streaked his eyes. “So soon?”
“Yes. I sent the ME some names I pulled from missing persons reports and she was able to access medical and dental records and compare DNA and prints. One name popped.” She angled her phone toward the sheriff, careful to watch his reaction.
“Her name is Bonnie Sylvester. Thirteen years old, in foster care, disappeared three months ago from Cleveland, Georgia.”
“Jesus. Thirteen?” He cut his eyes away as if he couldn’t bear to look at the photo of the girl.
“Do you recognize her? Maybe you saw her in town.”
He shook his head. “No. Probably should talk to the foster family.”
“Heading there when we leave here. I’m also going to speak with the investigator in charge of her case in Cleveland. But I want to show her photo around town first. Maybe someone has seen her.”
“If she had no family, what would she be doing here?” Sheriff Wallace asked.
“She could have been on the run,” Ellie suggested. “Looking for a safe place.” Instead, she’d run into the hands of a killer. “Can you and your crew look for abandoned cabins or properties in the area where she could have holed up?”
“I was going to suggest that,” he said, his tone irritated.
“I figured as much,” Ellie said, offering him a saccharine smile.
Without another word, he turned and headed back to his lunch date, seemingly in no hurry. What if the killer was hiding out in one of those places now?
She needed extra manpower. Frustrated, she phoned Deputy Landrum, explained and asked him to come.
“Be there ASAP,” he said.
“Thanks.” She ended the call then headed to the counter where Daisy was serving two teenagers burgers, fries and milkshakes.
“Did you hear they found a body?” the pale black-haired girl said.
The sandy-blond girl grabbed the ketchup and dumped some on her fries. “I know. I wonder who she was.”
“Maybe that girl from way back when,” the first girl muttered.
Ellie cleared her throat, and the girls turned, eyes widening at the sight of her badge. “Hi, ladies,” Ellie said then introduced herself. “Daisy.”
Daisy gave her an anxious smile as the teens turned away from her. “Detective, I figured you’d stop in here sometime,” Daisy said.
Of course she would. Local diners were the hub for gatherings and gossip quickly floated from one table to the next.
“Who are the girls?” she asked Daisy as the teens dug into their chili fries.
The sandy blond is Carrie Ann Parker,” Daisy replied. “The pale brunette is another Bramble. Kat Jones.”
Bramble? Ida had been pregnant in school and married Joe Jones. It must be their daughter.
Daisy fluttered her fingers to her throat. “Did you identify that poor soul from the woods?”
“We did,” Ellie said. “That’s the reason I’m here. Her name is Bonnie Sylvester. She was a foster child from Cleveland.” Ellie pulled her phone, accessed Bonnie’s picture, then addressed Daisy and the girls.
“Have any of you seen her around town?”
Carrie Ann eyed the photo with a squinted look then shook her head. “Don’t think so.”
“Not really. It’s a small town, if there was someone new, they’d stick out,” Kat said. “And she’s not one of us.”
“Daisy?”
“Afraid not. Can’t remember names worth a flip, but faces stick in my mind. I’d remember if she came in here.”
Ellie knew it was a long shot. If Bonnie had managed to make it this far from Cleveland, she might have laid low to avoid detection. Especially if she didn’t want to be sent back to her foster family. “Well, if you think of anything or remember her, please let me know.”
“Sure will,” Daisy said, her friendly smile slipping back in place.
“The picture will be posted on the news, so tell your friends to pay attention,” Ellie told the girls.
They nodded and Ellie moved on, canvassing the room. But no one in the diner claimed to know Bonnie or have seen her.
Emanuel Black, the man who’d found Bonnie’s remains, sat in the back corner deep in concentration over his laptop and sipping a beer. She caught his eye as she approached and he lowered his laptop screen.
“Detective?”
“Mr. Black,” she said. “I identified the remains you discovered in the woods.”
An odd look washed over his face, one Ellie couldn’t quite read.
Ellie flashed the picture. “Her name is Bonnie Sylvester. She was thirteen years old. Do you recognize her?”
Black leaned forward and studied the photograph with an intensity that almost unnerved Ellie. When he righted himself, he ran a finger over the scar on his forehead, then shook his head no.
A tense second passed, then Ellie thanked him. “If you remember seeing her somewhere, please call me.”
“Of course,” he said matter-of-factly.
The door to the diner opened and the bell tinkled.
A family of four entered, then a woman in her thirties with a bedraggled, low ponytail and a flannel shirt dusted with flour.
She made a beeline toward the girls, rubbing at her leg, drawing attention to her limp.
Wincing in pain, she stopped at the bar and addressed the black-haired teen, her voice sharp.
“Kat, you have to come home now.”
Kat rolled her eyes on a sigh. “But Mom, Carrie Ann and I were hanging out.”
“I’m not going to argue with you, girl. Get your butt up and let’s go or else.”
Ellie’s brows shot up. What did she mean or else ?
Kat slammed her backpack on the bar then tossed it over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “I told you she’d freak out, Carrie Ann. She’s so weird .” Pouting, the girl dragged her feet and shuffled behind her mother out the door.
The other teen frowned. “Call you, later, Kat. Let me know when you get out of house jail.”
Ellie bit back a laugh at the girls’ dramatics, then crossed to the bar to Daisy again. “That was Ida, wasn’t it, Daisy?”
“Sure was.” A frown tugged at Daisy’s lips. “That woman’s always been hell on wheels and got some kind of temper.” She mopped her forehead with a napkin, dabbing at the sweat beading above her brows. “And her daughter’s just like her.”