“Thanks for the tip.” Macy crossed to a smaller trailer surrounded by a garden bed bordered with white rocks.

Macy knocked on the door and could hear the blare of a television. When she didn’t hear any movement, she pounded on the door with her fist. Finally, the television grew silent. She knocked again.

Inside the trailer, footsteps moved toward the door before the curtains fluttered and an old woman peered out. She then opened the door. She appeared to be in her seventies. She was a small woman with gray hair tied tight with a hair tie. She wore an oversize T-shirt, jeans, and slippers.

“Ms. Beverly?” Macy asked.

“That’s right.”

She introduced herself and Nevada again. “I was wondering if you remember a family that lived across the street. They were the Shaws. The daughter was Cindy.”

“Sure, I remember them. The mama was Eunice, the boy was Bruce, and the girl, Cindy. The mama died fourteen or fifteen years ago, and the girl moved away about that time. The boy is still here in town. He’s a doctor and done real well for himself.”

“How did the mother die?” Macy asked.

“Drugs. Eunice was always hooked on them.”

“What can you tell me about Cindy?” Macy asked.

Ms. Beverly shook her head. “Bless her heart. She had a rough go of it. She’d been fending for herself since she was in second or third grade. Eunice was always off with a man, and when she was home, she was always fighting with one man or another. I used to feed Cindy and Bruce peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when they got home from school. Lord, but those children could eat. When they got into high school, Bruce found out he had a real talent for football. Once the team got ahold of him, we didn’t see him much anymore.”

“Can you tell me who Cindy hung out with before she moved away?” Macy asked.

“There were some of the boys from the high school. There were a few older ones as well. She was a pretty little thing and was hungry for attention. I told her she was going after the wrong kind, but she would only laugh at me and tell me to stop worrying.”

“Do you have any names?”

“No. I saw cars come and go, but I never was formally introduced.”

“Did she ever say if any of the men were violent with her?” Macy asked.

“There was one,” the woman said. “Cindy tried to hide it from me, but I saw the bruises on her neck.”

“Bruises?” Macy asked.

Ms. Beverly raised her wrinkled hand to her neck. “I asked her about it, but she said it was nothing she couldn’t take care of herself. She said she had figured out a way to get rich, and when she did, she’d come for me. That was sweet of her, but I’ve seen too many girls like her. Think they can smile their way to a better place. But it never works.”

“Do you think she moved away?”

Ms. Beverly pressed arthritic fingers to her lips as she shook her head. “No. She would have told me if she was leaving. She wouldn’t have just left without a word.”

“You ever talk to Sheriff Greene about Cindy?” Nevada asked.

“I called him a couple of times and finally he came by. I got the sense he wasn’t real serious about finding her.”

“Why do you say that?” Nevada asked.

“I told him she wouldn’t just leave, and he scratched out a few words in a notebook, but wasn’t paying me no mind. Of course, the case never went anywhere.”

“Was Bruce worried about his sister?”

“After she vanished, he came by the trailer and cleared out his things. I asked if he’d heard from her, but he told me not to worry. He’d seen her get on a bus.”

“Did you believe him?”

Ms. Beverly shook her head. “No. I could always tell when that boy was fibbing.”

An old woman’s intuition wouldn’t stand up as evidence in court, but Macy believed her. “Where did Bruce move to?”

“He moved in with Kevin Wyatt. Those two are cousins and were always close. Thick as thieves during high school. I couldn’t blame Bruce for hanging out with the Wyatts. It was a normal home, and the only time Eunice paid any attention to Cindy and Bruce was when she was between men and scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Being alone, I suppose.” She held up a hand. “I have a picture of Cindy still tacked to my refrigerator. Want to see it?”

“I do.”

The woman vanished into the kitchen and returned with the picture. The colors were faded and the edges curled. “It was taken right out front of my home.”

Macy studied the picture of the smiling girl, who appeared to be about fifteen. She wore tight jeans, a V-neck sweater, and what looked like an arrowhead necklace. “When was this taken?”

“About a year before she vanished. Bruce had just given her that necklace, and she was so proud. She wanted me to take a picture of her wearing it.”

“How did Cindy feel about her brother spending so much time on the football field and with the Wyatts?”

“She was angry. Felt abandoned.”

The girl’s brother, her only lifeline, had left her behind. “Do you mind if I snap a picture of it?” Macy asked.

“No, go right ahead.”

Macy took several pictures of the photo and then collected Ms. Beverly’s contact information. She thanked her for her help.

Macy and Nevada got into his car. “She said Kevin and Bruce were thick as thieves.”

“Think one might have helped the other kill Tobi?”

“I don’t know. But I want to talk to them both again.” Macy dialed Kevin Wyatt’s number. It went to voicemail. “This is Agent Crow. I’m still looking for that buccal swab, Mr. Wyatt. Call me.”

“Wyatt likes to drag his feet. When Tyler gets in trouble, he always lawyers up.”

“Eventually, he’ll have to give in.”

Nevada tapped his finger on the steering wheel. “Until then I’m going to follow up with Greene.”

“I want to come.”

“Not this time. He’s never been a fan of outsiders, and he might be more inclined to talk to me if I’m alone.”

She didn’t like being left out but trusted Nevada enough to ask the right questions. As he started his vehicle, his phone rang. It was Sullivan.

“Sullivan,” Nevada said.

“I received a call from Sandra Bennett. She says she can’t find Brooke.”

“I thought she was home with her son,” Nevada said.

“It doesn’t look like that was correct.”

“Where is Sandra now?” Nevada asked.

“Her house.”

“I’m on my way.”

When Nevada pulled up in front of Brooke Bennett’s house, Sandra was standing on the front porch talking to Sullivan. Sandra’s face was tight with worry.

“This doesn’t look good,” Macy said.

“No.”

They walked up to the front steps. “What’s going on here?”

Sandra stepped toward Nevada. “Have you heard from Brooke?”

“No, she hasn’t reported in for her shift,” Nevada said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Sandra said. “I was working late, and when I got home, her car was parked out back, but there was no sign of her. Matt said she was home late last night, but he didn’t see her when he awoke this morning for school.”

“The boy wasn’t sick?” Nevada asked.

“No. He was fine. Why would you ask that?”

“Your daughter texted me and told me her son was sick and she’d be late.”

As a precaution, Nevada and his deputies all carried a phone with GPS tracking when they were on duty. He checked and searched Bennett’s location. “It says that she’s here.”

“She’s not,” Sandra insisted. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

“The phone is here.” Nevada turned his attention to the grounds surrounding the house as he called Bennett’s number. A faint ring echoed from behind a stand of bushes. He slipped on latex gloves and then rooted around in the shrubs until his fingers brushed the phone.

The phone’s display had a record of Bennett’s text to Nevada as well as several texts from Bruce Shaw. She’d also placed a call to her mother around ten last night. “Why did she call you?”

“She said she had questions about Bruce Shaw,” Sandra said.

“What kind of questions?” Nevada asked.

“I have no idea. We never spoke.”

“Deputy Bennett said she would get a cheek swab from Shaw,” Macy said.

Nevada called dispatch on his radio and advised them that Deputy Brooke Bennett was missing. He wanted all deputies searching for her immediately.

“I’d like to speak to Matt,” Nevada said.

Sandra hesitated and then nodded. “He’s in the kitchen. He’s upset, so go easy on him.”

“Of course I will,” Nevada said.

Nevada and Macy followed Sandra into the house and back toward the kitchen to where a young man who looked like his mother sat staring at his phone.

“Matt,” Nevada said.

The boy stood. “I’ve been waiting for Mom to call.”

“We’re trying to find her now, Matt. When did you last see her?” Nevada asked.

“It was about midnight. I heard her come in.”

“Where were you, Sandra?” Nevada asked.

“I was called back in to work.”

“Where’s that?”

“The Deep Run assisted living facility. I’m an on-call nurse there. I wasn’t scheduled, but the boss said several staff members didn’t show.”

“You must know Debbie Roberson and Beth Watson,” Macy said.

“Sure. It’s terrible what happened to Beth.”

“Who called you in to work?” Macy asked.