or thirteen. Except for Jimmy and Connie, I think the others were travelers,” Lorna said.
“And the truckers?”
“Most of them are regulars,” Betty said and Lorna nodded. “We’re on their route.”
Stralla nodded to the young man who had filled Harding’s gas tank.
“I can’t remember much. We had rigs backed up in the other bays. It was busy because of the storm. And we had the power surge.”
The cook had his large tattooed arms folded across his chest. He raised his craggy face and squinted at Stralla.
“You think somebody from here might’ve followed her?”
“Anything’s possible.” Stralla’s eyes lingered on the tattoos. Maybe someone had tampered with her car.
“Well, let me tell you,” the cook said. “You’re searching for a needle in a haystack. We get a lot of people passing through here.”
“Don’t I know it? Thanks for helping us out. Please, everyone, call us if you remember anything, any little thing.”
After the staff members left, Stralla asked Odell if he’d volunteer all credit card receipts for the time surrounding Harding’s disappearance.
“Sure.”
Percy York caught up to Odell and the two detectives in the hall. The responsibility for maintaining Big Timber’s security cameras fell to Percy, a part-time mechanic and self-taught computer geek.
“Anything?” Ansboro said.
“Come and see.”
Stralla’s cell phone rang.
“Stralla.”
“Hi, Jason Wade from the Mirror. Do you have a second?”
“A second.”
“I’m on my way to see you, as soon as possible.”
“Why? We’ve got nothing new for the press.”
“I want to confirm something Karen’s boyfriend told me.”
“Concerning?”
“His last conversation with her before she disappeared.”
Stralla considered his watch and Wade’s request. “Tell me now.”
“I’d like to do this face-to-face. I’m on the road now.”
“Suit yourself. Call me when you get to town.”
Wade had captured Stralla’s interest, he thought, slipping his phone into his pocket. The kid was a digger.
Big Timber’s security system was shoehorned in a dark room near the arcade. Percy went to a table with several consoles, video recorders, and four small TV monitors. “The heads were dirty and we had a surge from the storm. I don’t think it reset properly.” A shape in a snowstorm began swimming on one of the monitors. Looked like a woman walking in the lot.
“I think that’s her.”
“Hang on.” Stralla left, then returned with Betty and Lorna. “Run it again. Now tell me, is that her?”
Betty nodded.
“Yes, that’s her.”
The picture quality was terrible. A grainy figure moved between trucks, got into a car, and drove out of the frame. It could’ve been a Toyota.
“Take it back,” Stralla said.
After taking several moments to line up the tape, Percy tried several times in vain to find a clean stream of footage.
“But you’ve got stuff from other cameras, other angles throughout the lot and the building, right?” Stralla asked.
“Yes, from a number of cameras. What I just showed you is the best.”
Stralla turned to Odell. “You going to volunteer your tapes so I can take them to somebody who might clean them up?”
“Sure, Hank.”
Odell and Percy gathered the tapes into a brown take-out bag for Stralla, who then walked to the lot with Ansboro.
“We could have something here,” Ansboro said before starting his engine.
“We could.” Stralla watched him drive off, turning at the lot exit marked by a ten-foot grizzly, poised to do battle. Then the detective studied the credit card receipts, thinking that the last thing Karen Harding might’ve written in her life was her name.
15
----
H igh winds from the Strait of Georgia tumbled inland over the stretch of State Route 539 where Karen Harding’s Toyota had broken down.
Investigators were finishing the scene work, loading her car onto a flatbed before a line of news types and onlookers. Jason Wade walked to the
“And the truckers?”
“Most of them are regulars,” Betty said and Lorna nodded. “We’re on their route.”
Stralla nodded to the young man who had filled Harding’s gas tank.
“I can’t remember much. We had rigs backed up in the other bays. It was busy because of the storm. And we had the power surge.”
The cook had his large tattooed arms folded across his chest. He raised his craggy face and squinted at Stralla.
“You think somebody from here might’ve followed her?”
“Anything’s possible.” Stralla’s eyes lingered on the tattoos. Maybe someone had tampered with her car.
“Well, let me tell you,” the cook said. “You’re searching for a needle in a haystack. We get a lot of people passing through here.”
“Don’t I know it? Thanks for helping us out. Please, everyone, call us if you remember anything, any little thing.”
After the staff members left, Stralla asked Odell if he’d volunteer all credit card receipts for the time surrounding Harding’s disappearance.
“Sure.”
Percy York caught up to Odell and the two detectives in the hall. The responsibility for maintaining Big Timber’s security cameras fell to Percy, a part-time mechanic and self-taught computer geek.
“Anything?” Ansboro said.
“Come and see.”
Stralla’s cell phone rang.
“Stralla.”
“Hi, Jason Wade from the Mirror. Do you have a second?”
“A second.”
“I’m on my way to see you, as soon as possible.”
“Why? We’ve got nothing new for the press.”
“I want to confirm something Karen’s boyfriend told me.”
“Concerning?”
“His last conversation with her before she disappeared.”
Stralla considered his watch and Wade’s request. “Tell me now.”
“I’d like to do this face-to-face. I’m on the road now.”
“Suit yourself. Call me when you get to town.”
Wade had captured Stralla’s interest, he thought, slipping his phone into his pocket. The kid was a digger.
Big Timber’s security system was shoehorned in a dark room near the arcade. Percy went to a table with several consoles, video recorders, and four small TV monitors. “The heads were dirty and we had a surge from the storm. I don’t think it reset properly.” A shape in a snowstorm began swimming on one of the monitors. Looked like a woman walking in the lot.
“I think that’s her.”
“Hang on.” Stralla left, then returned with Betty and Lorna. “Run it again. Now tell me, is that her?”
Betty nodded.
“Yes, that’s her.”
The picture quality was terrible. A grainy figure moved between trucks, got into a car, and drove out of the frame. It could’ve been a Toyota.
“Take it back,” Stralla said.
After taking several moments to line up the tape, Percy tried several times in vain to find a clean stream of footage.
“But you’ve got stuff from other cameras, other angles throughout the lot and the building, right?” Stralla asked.
“Yes, from a number of cameras. What I just showed you is the best.”
Stralla turned to Odell. “You going to volunteer your tapes so I can take them to somebody who might clean them up?”
“Sure, Hank.”
Odell and Percy gathered the tapes into a brown take-out bag for Stralla, who then walked to the lot with Ansboro.
“We could have something here,” Ansboro said before starting his engine.
“We could.” Stralla watched him drive off, turning at the lot exit marked by a ten-foot grizzly, poised to do battle. Then the detective studied the credit card receipts, thinking that the last thing Karen Harding might’ve written in her life was her name.
15
----
H igh winds from the Strait of Georgia tumbled inland over the stretch of State Route 539 where Karen Harding’s Toyota had broken down.
Investigators were finishing the scene work, loading her car onto a flatbed before a line of news types and onlookers. Jason Wade walked to the
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