Page 86 of What She Saw
“Yes, they are,” Taggart said. “Don’t you agree, Larry?”
“I didn’t hurt Patty,” he said.
“We’ll find out.”
The three of them sat in the warm spring air. Taggart craved a cigarette. He reached in his pocket and settled a cigarette between his lips. He lit the tip and inhaled. This morning he’d promised himself this was his last pack, but already he’d decided to pick up a new carton on the way home. This case was going to be a ballbuster.
They waited two hours before Deputy Paxton arrived with the search warrant.
Out of his car, the deputy settled his hat on his head. “Larry, Seth.” Then he looked at Taggart. “I’ve known those boys for years.”
The community in this part of the world was small and tight-knit. Right now, Taggart was the outsider. “Do you have the search warrant?”
Paxton produced the slim piece of paper. Then in a lower voice, he said to Taggart, “Judge doesn’t want you on a fishing expedition. Just anything related to Patty.”
The way the law read, anything Taggart saw in plain sight in the garage was fair game. And if he heard or saw anything related to Patty, then he could open a closet door or look in a locker.
“You stay out here with them. I’ll have a look around.”
“Right.”
Taggart walked into the garage and shut off the radio playing an ’80s rock song. The space smelled of gasoline and oil. A workbench was covered with all kinds of auto repair equipment. A poster of a blonde in a blue bikini hung on the wall. Miss July 1988 was hot enough to stand the test of time. The sights and sounds brought back memories of thousands of hours working in the old bastard’s garage.
He searched the garage bay, the office, and a storage shed out back. It was unlocked. He opened the door. If he found Patty, dead or alive, he would find a reason to justify why he’d searched inside.
The storage shed was crammed full of extra parts, hoses, old tires, and all kinds of crap that ate up almost the entire space. The chances of anyone storing a body or holding a woman here were slim to none.
After forty-five minutes, he conceded that there was no evidence Patty was on the property. That didn’t let Summers off the hook, but after this fruitless search, he wasn’t getting another warrant unless he had more cause.
Outside, he found Paxton and the boys joking about something. When they saw him, Paxton had the sense to wipe the smile off his face. Seth looked a little contrite. Summers did not.
“Tough coming up empty-handed, isn’t it, Sheriff?” Summers said. “I could’ve told you she’s alive and well. Mark my words: She’s hanging in a hotel room with someone from the festival. She always liked the artistic types.”
The car radio buzzed. Irritated, Taggart grabbed it. “What is it, Brenda?”
“We got another call about a third missing woman.”
His body stilled. “Who?”
“Debra Jackson. She never showed up to work or school yesterday.”
“Who called in the report?”
“Her younger half sister. Marsha Sullivan. She’s sixteen, a minor.”
“Where’s the mother?”
“Miss Sullivan says their mother is out of town with the stepfather. Debra lives alone in a trailer. Moved out of the family home last winter. The high school called looking for Debra, and the sister covered for her. But Marsha got worried and called Debra’s boss. Debra hasn’t been seen since she left for the concert late Friday evening.”
He rolled his head as tension wrapped around his neck. “Okay. I’m on my way back.”
“Another thing. Her unit is down the street from Patty Reed’s trailer.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sloane
Monday, August 18, 2025, 3:00 p.m.
