Page 38 of Jack
Hopefully.
He checked back in with Julian, who was on the phone—hopefully to the valet—then headed down the hallway to the entrance where he’d seen Penelope last night.
“What are we looking for?” Harper asked.
“Anything. Once I found a broken bike light that led to a woman trapped in a culvert, nearly dead from exposure. Another time I found a vintage gold chain and traced it to an online estate sale, which led me to a Realtor who had decided to take out her competition.”
“Dark.”
“You have no idea.” He was looking through the fronds of a plant while she picked up the cushions of a bench. “People are capable of terrible things when they are pushed.” He stood up. “Nothing here. I’m going outside.”
He stepped out into the cold, the wind burning his nose despite the sunshine. A thin layer of ice and snow covered the lot, tire tracks indented in the blackened grime. He walked over to the valet stand, but it was empty.
Harper pushed outside too. “Nothing.”
“No, there’s something.” He pointed to the camera aimed at the parking lot. “Security footage. C’mon.”
He headed back inside as Julian came down the hallway holding a Post-It note.
“I called Ethan, and he said he didn’t see her leave. But you can talk to him yourself.”
Perfect. A call from the boss about a missing person. Now, even if Ethan had seen something, he’d be loath to admit it. Jack managed a smile and took the paper. “Thanks.” He pocketed it, then glanced outside. “I noticed you have security cameras. I don’t suppose you’d let us take a look at the footage?”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “I think maybe that request will have to come from Sheriff Davidson.”
Right. Or, “Sure. Although the request could leak, and then you’ll have the news sniffing out that Penelope Pepper, the famous murder podcaster, has gone missing from the Moonlight Supperclub and . . .” He lifted a shoulder.
Julian sighed. “Let me make a call. All our footage is stored on our server in the security office. I suppose if Marcus is there, watching . . .”
“Marcus?”
“Alvarez. He’ll be in after lunch. We have another event tonight.”
“We’ll swing back around then. Thanks.” Jack pulled out his cell phone and stepped outside.
“That’s it?” Harper followed him. “What if he changes out the tapes between now and then?”
The call rang.
“This isn’t the eighties. Everything is digital and probably uploaded to the cloud, and why would Julian do that? He has nothing to hi—Hello, is this Ethan?”
The voice seemed groggy, as if he’d woken the kid, so maybe there hadn’t been a previous phone call. “Yeah, sure. What do you need?”
“I’d like to talk to you about a woman you might have seen last night?—”
“I already told my boss, I didn’t see her.”
“Perfect. I’d like to swing by just for a short chat.” He looked at the name. “Lockwood. Your dad is Tom. You’re over on Willow?”
A beat. “Who is this?”
“Jack Kingston. Just a friend of the missing woman.”
Another beat. “Okay. Fine.” He hung up.
Jack pocketed the phone.
“I remember Tom Lockwood,” said Harper. “Science teacher.”