“It’s my time to waste.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks for checking.”

“Anytime.”

Macy pocketed the phone, shifted her weight to her right side, and walked toward Bennett. “Let’s have a look at the security footage.”

“Stay on my tail. I don’t want to lose you,” Bennett said.

Hearing the challenge, she fired back, “I might not walk fast, but I drive just fine.”

In her vehicle, Macy relaxed back into the seat and waited for the discomfort to ease. The docs said the leg just needed time. Unfortunately, that was one thing she didn’t have.

She turned on the ignition and followed the deputy’s brown-and-white vehicle out of the park toward town, where the small convenience store was located.

She fished three ibuprofen from her backpack, chewing them up for quicker action. With no water to wash down the bitterness, she kept driving. Ten minutes later she felt decent as she pulled into the convenience store parking lot behind the cruiser. She followed Bennett through the door and toward the clerk.

The store was a good size and featured a diner and a small grocery. The clerk behind the counter was a thin man in his early thirties with a thick crop of dark hair that was cut short on the sides but long along the middle. The company’s blue smock draped over a white short-sleeved T-shirt. Multicolored tattoos stretched from his wrist past his elbow. A small diamond earring winked in his right ear. His name tag read Bobby.

The clerk smiled when he saw Bennett. “Deputy. I got that footage for you. You’re going to be interested to see it.”

Bobby sized up Macy, branding her an outsider. “You can see it in the back office if that will help.”

“Thanks, Bobby. And this is Special Agent Macy Crow. She’s with the FBI.”

“FBI? I saw you on the television today during that announcement you made. Get any good tips on the hotline yet?”

“Not yet, but it’s early,” Macy said.

“So what are we looking for?” Bobby asked.

“I’m looking for Debbie Roberson,” Macy said. “She’s still missing.”

“You think this killer has her?” Bobby asked.

“Hard to tell,” Bennett said. “But folks like you helping will make all the difference.”

Bobby came out from behind the counter, and they followed him past the snack and chip aisle and beyond the beer coolers to a small office. The neat space featured a desk, a chair, a bulletin board with the month’s work schedule, a personalized coffee mug, and four sharpened pencils lined up in a neat row. Front and center was a dated computer running four feeds from the store’s security cameras.

Bobby clicked on the upper right image, which showed the front of the store. He backed up the imaging forty-seven hours and hit “Play.”

“I didn’t realize she was missing until you called. I remember seeing her a couple of days ago, but she looked fine and there was no sign of any trouble.”

“What day was she here, Bobby?” Bennett asked.

“Saturday evening. She said she was grabbing a few groceries to get her through the next couple of days until payday. She said her extra money had gone to fixing a flat tire. I offered to float her a few days, but she said she didn’t mind peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

“Did she say how she got the flat?” Macy asked.

Bobby shrugged. “Picked up a nail.”

“Was she alone when she came in the store?” Macy asked.

“She was.”

“And she didn’t appear nervous or upset? Hurt? Sick? Depressed?”

“No, normal Debbie,” Bobby said.

“Do you remember where she parked in your lot?” Macy asked, hoping small-town life meant people paid closer attention to details like that.

“As a matter of fact, I do remember. She parked off to the side.”

“Any idea why?” Macy asked.

“Because the kids from the high school were here. They take over the parking lot and store when they come through. It was after the postseason football party.”

“How did the team do this year?” Macy asked.

Bobby shook his head. “Not well. Ended with a five-and-four season.”

“Not like the Dream Team days, right?” Macy prompted.

Bobby grinned. “That season will go down in history,” he said.

“Shame about Tobi,” Macy said.

“Yeah.”

“Did you know her? I mean, seems everyone in Deep Run knows everyone.”

“I knew her,” Bobby said. “She was nice.”

“Did Debbie say if anyone else was in her car?” Bennett asked.

“If there were, she never mentioned it,” Bobby said.

Macy sensed Bennett’s impatience as Bobby fast-forwarded the video. She leaned in as the footage skimmed back in time to Saturday evening.

Bobby hit “Stop” at the 9:05 p.m. time stamp and then hit “Play.” The camera caught a collection of teenagers bustling through the front door. They were laughing, and two were kissing. “That was about the time a few kids tried to buy beer, but I carded them all. I’m not going to lose my liquor license over a couple of kids. I don’t care if they are on the football team.”

Macy imagined that comment was for the deputy’s benefit. Both women kept their gazes on the black-and-white feed and watched as Debbie, dressed in pastel scrubs, entered the store. They watched her grab peanut butter and bread and head directly to the register. She spoke to the clerk briefly and then exited the store.

“That’s Debbie Roberson,” Bennett said.

Macy studied the woman’s face, looking for signs of stress, worry, or even happiness, as if she were glad to see someone. Just as Debbie moved offscreen, her expression seemed to change. “Can you back that up?” Macy asked.

“Sure.”

“Play it in slow motion.” As the scene unfolded again, Macy watched as Debbie exited the store and her eyes shifted from casual to alert. She had seen something or someone. “Do you have a camera that covers this area?” Macy pointed to the top right corner of the screen.

“Not totally, but camera three records from a different angle.” He clicked on camera three, and the trio watched it catch the edge of a blue four-door Ford Focus. A man rose up out of the car, but his head was downcast, making it impossible to see his face.

“Do you know who that is?” Macy asked Bennett.

“No.”

“What about you, Bobby? Did you see the guy?”

“No. I was trying to make sure the teenagers didn’t walk out with half the store.”

“Would any of those kids have been out in the parking lot about that time?” Macy asked.

“Sure. There were at least a dozen.”

“Do you have names, Bobby?” Bennett asked.

“Well, there was the Wyatt boy. And the Piper brothers and the Donovan kid.”

“Tyler. Tyler Wyatt was out there?” Bennett asked.

“Yeah, with his girlfriend, Amy Meadow.”

Macy wrote down the names. “Anyone else you remember?”

“No, but talk to Tyler or Amy. They’re the king and queen of the high school and know everyone.”

“Wasn’t there a Wyatt on the Dream Team?” Macy asked.

“That would be Kevin. Tyler’s older brother.”

“Older brother? That’s a big age gap.”

“I guess it happens.”

“How long have you worked here, Bobby?” Macy asked.

“Sixteen years. My dad owns the place.”

“So you’ve seen a lot of kids come and go.”

“Sure.”

“Remember Cindy Shaw?”

He nodded. “Haven’t heard that name in a long time.”

“I hear she was friends with Tobi,” Macy prompted.

“I don’t know if I’d say they were friends, but they hung out sometimes.”

“Can we get a copy of all the footage you have?” Bennett asked. “I want to review everything.”

He dug a thumb drive from his pocket. “I thought you might ask, so here you go.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” Macy offered the thumb drive to Bennett, but the deputy held up her hand, deferring to Macy. She pocketed the thumb drive. “I’ll double back if I have more questions.”

“Sure. I’m here just about all the time.”

Outside the store, Bennett said, “I thought we were here to talk about Debbie.”

“We are, but I can’t lose sight of the fact I’m here for Tobi and the rape victims. Don’t underestimate a guy like Bobby and what he notices. How do we get to the Wyatts’ house?”

“Follow me. Amy Meadow’s family lives one street over, so we have a chance of seeing them both.”

“Lead the way.”

Macy followed the deputy’s marked vehicle across the small town and around the university toward the western edge. The farther west they drove, the sparser the developments became. She then saw brick pillars marking the entrance to a fairly recent community.

They wove through the neighborhood, and the deputy parked in front of a two-story brick home set back from the road on an acre lot.

Macy opened the back of her vehicle and removed a buccal DNA test kit. She tucked the sealed glass vial containing a swab in her jacket pocket before joining Bennett by the mailbox. Streetlights, sensing the approaching dusk, had begun to flicker on.

“This has to be one of the most affluent sections of town,” Macy said.

“It’s where the new money lives. Old money is a little farther out west toward the mountains, where you find the large horse farms.”