Page 73 of What She Saw
“To visit Patty Reed’s trailer.”
Brenda didn’t question the twenty-four-hour waiting window on the missing person report. “Right.”
Taggart arrived at Patty’s trailer, located in a small twenty-unit park on the edge of town. Her unit was simple and didn’t appear to have the bells and whistles some others did. She didn’t have a front garden or a porch. Though there were rust spots on the siding, the steps were swept and the windows clean.
He pulled on latex gloves and then climbed the steps, inserted the key Sara gave him, and let himself inside. The interior was dark, but the soft scent of baby powder clung to the air. The carpeting looked freshly vacuumed, and the small kitchen was clean. Dishes were stacked in a drainer, and a red washcloth was draped over the faucet to dry.
The living room was picked up. Blankets were folded, pillows fluffed, and a collection of baby toys piled in a small basket. There were several framed pictures of the baby. The child’s smiles looked strained and her gaze serious.
The bedroom was at the back of the unit. The bed was made, and the crib sheets smooth. On a small desk, he saw several brochures for accounting classes. Tacked to a small bulletin board was a GED certificate. He opened the desk drawers. They were filled with paper, pens, pencils, a sleeve of condoms, and a stack of letters. He reached for the opened envelopes. They were from several community colleges. The first was a rejection letter, as were the next three. He replaced the letters in the envelopes and closed the drawer.
There was also a brochure for a resort in Colorado. The facility was looking for waitresses and promised twenty bucks an hour. That would have been a hell of a pay bump if it were true.
Finally, there was a stack of photographs taken of Patty and a guy. Tall, with thick, dark hair. Taggart guessed this must be Larry Summers. He stared at her smiling face. A pretty girl with a plateful of responsibilities at a young age. Maybe she wanted to dump this life and find a new one. No college rejections, judgmental mother, abusive ex, or moody baby.
Anywhere else must have looked pretty good to Patty Reed.
Taggart arrived at the festival entrance a half hour later. The muddied hillside had been stripped of ground cover, and the small trees were bent and broken. The field at the base of the hill was a sea of mud. It was disfigured with deep tire ruts, scattered trash, flattened tents, and overflowing trash cans. The stages and trucks were gone, and the vendor who’d brought the porta potties was loading the last of the ten units onto his flatbed.
As he shut off the engine, Brenda came in over the radio. “Dispatch to Sheriff?”
He took the microphone and pressed the side button. “Ten-four.”
“Another woman called the station. She says her niece was at the festival, and she’s not checked in. It’s too soon to file a missing person report.”
“What’s her name?”
“Laurie Carr. She’s nineteen, blond, and petite. She was hoping to sing at the festival.”
“I might have met her. I think she worked the burger tent with Patty.”
“Laurie was supposed to call in this morning.”
He checked his watch. Eight o’clock. “She’s overdue.”
“Her aunt is convinced she’s in trouble.”
Many missing person cases resolved themselves. The person in question was either drunk, on vacation, or staying at a friend’s house. There were dozens of reasonable explanations. “If she calls back, take her statement.”
“Will do.”
Taggart walked over to the site where the burger tent had been located. Buddy had cleared out all the equipment and broken down the tables. Waste, embedded in the mud, encircled large green, bulging trash bags.
He moved to where Patty had stood and looked out toward the entrance to the festival. When he’d last seen her, she’d been hustling to work the grill and the register. During the height of the event, Patty wouldn’t have seen beyond the crowds encircling her.
His gaze scanned the field. Patty had been working the event with a blonde. Was it Laurie?
The beep of the flatbed drew his attention to the porta potties that had rested near the edge of the woods.
The truck driver lowered a forklift that slid under the porta potty. “Sheriff, you seen Rafe Colton?”
He didn’t know the driver. “Not since yesterday.”
A frown deepened the man’s grizzled face. “He was supposed to meet me here with a check.”
“You are?”
“Pete Manchester. I rented him the porta potties.”
