Page 47 of Twice Missing
“Did you bring your service weapon?” Callie whispered.
He nodded, aware of the potentially dangerous situation.
As the cabin filled with laughter and the warm glow of the fire, Callie couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this peaceful moment was just the calm before a storm.
18
The harsh glare of headlights illuminated a weathered billboard on the outskirts of the Akwesasne Mohawk Casino Resort. The face of Kayla Bravebird stared out into the night, her eyes seeming to follow Noah and McKenzie as they drove past. The bold text beneath her photo proclaimed: "MISSING GIRL: Kayla Bravebird, St. Regis Mohawk Reservation, Reward $20,000, To report anonymous tips call this number."
Noah's grip tightened on the steering wheel as they pulled into the casino parking lot. The gaudy neon lights of the resort cast a glow across the snow-covered landscape, brightening the scene but doing little to lift the somber mood that had settled over the two detectives.
They spotted Abigail immediately, a lone figure huddled against the cold, the ember of her cigarette glowing in the darkness. As they pulled up, she dropped the butt, crushing it beneath her boot before sliding intothe back seat. The acrid smell of tobacco filled the car, mingling with the warm air pumping from the vents.
Noah turned in his seat, his eyes meeting Abigail's in the rearview mirror. "Thanks for meeting with us again."
"No problem," Abigail replied, juggling her keys and a bag. "I only have ten minutes."
McKenzie nodded, his pen poised over a notepad. "We met with Sarah today. She said your family raised funds for the billboard we passed."
Abigail's laugh was hollow, devoid of humor. "Yeah. Not that it's helped. No one is speaking up."
"Scared of backlash," Noah stated more than asked.
She nodded, her eyes distant. "Everyone knows someone. It's only a matter of time before someone speaks up, but even if they do, we might not hear about it."
Noah leaned back, his brow furrowed. "Sarah mentioned that your father had gone to the tribal police for help and they didn't start doing anything until much later."
Another nod from Abigail, her face a mask of frustration.
"What has been done since then?" McKenzie pressed.
"By tribal police? Nothing. We're the ones who have had to get out there."
Noah exchanged a glance with McKenzie before continuing. "So you haven't spoken to them since?"
“Our last interaction was when we handed over some red-stained clothing we found near a home at the edge of the reservation."
Noah's interest was piqued. "Whose home?"
"Marcus."
"You got an address for him?"
Abigail hesitated, her eyes darting between the two detectives. "I do, but you don't want to go out there. Not even the cops bother." Despite her warning, she took the pad Noah offered and scrawled an address.
"And what about this love triangle we keep hearing about?" McKenzie asked.
"They're just rumors that she was seeing someone else's man."
"Any names given?"
"None."
Noah leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "What else?"
Abigail sighed, her shoulders sagging. "You name it. I've heard it all. Human trafficking, runaway, overdosed. I heard she was murdered and buried on the reservation. Someone said her ex-boyfriend Jacob had something to do with it as he was known to hit her, but he denies that. Another said it was Marcus because he was seeing her. Others said it was someone off the reservation." She paused, her eyes meeting Noah's. "Look, I've done my research, but either no one would talk, or we figured out it was just a distraction — someone making it up for attention or to steer us away from the real culprit behind her disappearance."
"You think we would get somewhere speaking with Marcus or Jacob?" Noah asked.
