All the Pretty Girls - J. T. Ellison [35]
The sheriff retrieved a sleeve of plastic from the crime scene kit in his trunk and slid the note into it, then handed it off to one of his deputies. The man fairly ran to his car and took off.
“We’ll know quick. I’ve got a good guy in my lab who can find anything if it’s there to find.”
“I appreciate it.” Baldwin shielded his eyes and gazed at the hospital. So far the only thing linking most of these girls was their chosen or intended profession. If there were other notes, then they might have something.
“There was no sign of foul play at Marni’s home?” Baldwin asked.
“Not a thing. I know about the other cases, that they were taken from their houses. This one looks like she was taken right here, just as she was getting into her car. There’s another bee for your bonnet. Is there anything else? I need to get this scene cleared and get started on a rural search. I know you think this guy’s going to take her out of state, but I need to make sure.” Sheriff Pascoe was ready to go, to get his part of the investigation under way. There was nothing more they could do here. Baldwin shook his hand and thanked him for all his help.
He and Grimes went back to town in silence. Grimes parked at the motel and they walked in the strong sunshine to get food and to go over their next moves. Grimes looked rough, unshaven and red-eyed. He was taking every aspect of this case to heart. If Baldwin were to evaluate him from a psychological perspective, he’d say Grimes was teetering on the edge.
They went to Jo’s Diner, a local establishment worn with age. The entire restaurant could have fit in the lobby of their motel. Pictures of locals plastered the walls, some fresh and new, some so old and grainy that the black-and-white images merely suggested their occupant’s features. The walls were yellowed from years of nicotine, and the formerly white lace drapes drooped gray and unhappy over smeary windows. Baldwin and Grimes got looks from tired men who appeared to have grown into the stools at the counter. The smell was intoxicating, and Baldwin realized he was starved.
They sat at a metal table covered by stained and cracked Formica laminate. A huge woman with shoulder-length braids pranced over. Baldwin couldn’t believe how lightly she moved considering her bulk. Her waitress uniform was spotless, and Lurene was stitched in fancy black embroidery above her ample left breast. She slapped down two cups, filled them with strong black coffee and gave the men a look.
“Good morning,” Baldwin said. “We’d like—”
“Let me guess, sugar. The works.” She yelled back over her shoulder to a rheumy-eyed black man with grizzled hair who could be seen in the kitchen. “Eugene, two full plates.” She turned back to them.
“You just let me know if you need anything else after that.” She chuckled, a deep throaty laugh that brought a smile to Baldwin’s face. She gave him a dazzling smile of her own and stepped back to the counter. Every eye in the place was trained on her, and she knew it. She may have been a big woman, but she exuded sensuality.
Baldwin turned back to Grimes, amused to see the look of appreciation in his eyes.
“That’s some woman, huh?” He enjoyed the blush that spread over Grimes’s cheeks.
Their waitress returned with two plates groaning with food. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and a bowl of grits filled platters big enough for ten men. To top it off, soda biscuits paraded off the edges of the plates.
Baldwin couldn’t hold back a laugh. “This is the works, isn’t it?”
“It is, sugar, and you leave anything behind, I’ll have your hiney. You two look like you could use a good meal.” She placed the plates with a flourish, pulled an assortment of jams from her apron pocket, reached behind her and