Pyramid Deception by Austin S. Camacho Page A

Jason’s car. I didn’t think the detective I talked to was that smart.”
    â€œI don’t get it,” Cindy said. “Why would they tow Jason’s car away if they think he took the train to disappear.”
    â€œThat’s just it, babe. They wouldn’t. The only reason to pull in his car is to go over it for clues. And they’d only do that if someone suspected foul play. And I think I know who that someone is.”
    â€œThen we need to go find where the car is, right?”
    â€œNo,” Hannibal said. “Time is short. The cops are already working on whatever the car will give up. All that forensic stuff. We need to do what they’re not doing. Cover the path they might have missed.”
    â€œOkay, like what?”
    Hannibal did a slow pan across the terminal. Half a dozen benches lined up across the floor and sunlight from a skylight above gave the room the feel of a small church, despite the peeling green paint and older, stained floor tiles. Anxious children seemed mismatched with bored or frustrated adults who would be at an airport if they could afford it. The kids occasionally ran through the open spaces in random patterns, causing the adults to hold their luggage close. A human circus without a ringmaster, he thought. No ringmaster, but this human hell did have a gatekeeper.
    Aloud he said, “Like checking if anyone can confirm what the cops were told last night.”
    A small trapezoid boxed off in a corner of the station held the modern day Cerebus in place. She was somewhere between thirty and fifty years old, wearing deep blonde in a smart, short style, lipstick that was too bright for her pale complexion and a permanently furrowed brow. No one could pass through to thetrain platform without first paying her their respects. She wore her official status like a cloak, as if it was power. Hannibal put on his official expression too, stepped up to the narrow window of the ticket counter and pressed his credentials against the side of her glass prison.
    â€œHello, Miss Stone,” he said, reading the unlikely name on her metal nametag. I’m working a missing person’s case and could use your help. Were you on duty last night?”
    She nodded but stayed silent. So this was how it was going to go, he thought.
    â€œMa’am, do you remember a young couple that bought tickets for Canada last night? The man would have been very thin and pale, neatly dressed with brown hair and eyes. The woman was attractive, tall, blonde and blue-eyed, with an Alabama accent.”
    Stone nodded again. “I don’t remember any accent, and I would have noticed,” she said, displaying her own honeyed Georgia tones. “But it sounds like the same couple the police asked me about. They were the last tickets I sold yesterday, around five o’clock.”
    Cindy squeezed her eyes shut. She had already stopped, right where the police would, but for Hannibal the interview was incomplete.
    â€œDid they seem nervous to you? In a hurry?”
    Stone shrugged. “He was maybe.”
    â€œDo you remember anything else about them? Anything at all? Their luggage or their clothes perhaps?”
    Stone leaned closer to the window, her clear hazel eyes suddenly more alert. “There’s more to this, isn’t there?”
    Hannibal also leaned closer and lowered his voice. “What’s your first name?”
    â€œLane,” she said, dropping her grim demeanor. She did have a winning smile.
    â€œWell, Lane, they may have met with… foul play. It could be a kidnapping. There might be a reward.” Hannibal slid his cardthrough the slot. “I’d be willing to split it if there is. Do you remember anything else?”
    Stone’s hand fell on the card, her fingers touching Hannibal’s. Her eyes closed and rolled upward as if she was searching her mental attic. Her brow furrowed more deeply, and her mouth dropped open a couple of