“Thanks. Deputy Eastwood and I are canvassing the town, Ranger McClain is searching the site where the remains were found, then I’ll contact the original investigator of Bonnie Sylvester’s case and the foster parents.”
“Copy that. Let me know if you need more backup.”
Special Agent Derrick Fox’s face taunted her. He’d been her partner on the last few cases. But he was still recovering from an injury and the situation between her, Cord and Derrick had ended on an awkward note. She’d have to handle this one on her own.
She thanked Bryce, then ended the call and turned to Shondra. “I’ll check the diner if you want to canvass store clerks and business owners.”
Shondra nodded. “On it, Detective.”
Ellie smiled, grateful to have Shondra on her side. They’d spent a lot of time together through work and she’d become a friend, not just a coworker.
Ellie exited the Jeep and Shondra slid out and headed to the Dollar Store next door. Smart thinking. If Bonnie had been homeless and come to this town on her own before being murdered, most likely she’d had very little money, so she might have shopped there for basic toiletries.
A chime tinkled above the door as she entered the diner, and she was struck by the field of bright yellow daisies painted on the mural on the far wall. An odd contrast to the desolate parched land surrounding the graveyard. Daisy was obviously using her namesake to inspire cheer and hope into the near-dead town.
A buttercup-blond woman with a beehive hairdo and a smile as big as Texas stood behind the diner counter laughing at something one of the customers said. From her nametag and demeanor, Daisy.
A quick sweep of the room and Ellie spotted Sheriff Clint Wallace seated in a booth in the corner with a young woman draped all over him. A teenage waitress with bright purple and orange streaks in her brown hair popped over with a pad and pen to take their order.
Voices rumbled through the crowded room, and she forced herself not to react as heads and stares turned her way. The damn press made it impossible to investigate incognito. Smalltown rumor mills and TV, which was probably the prime entertainment here, meant everyone in town probably knew her name and her reason for being in Brambletown.
Which could prove helpful or give people time to fabricate alibis and hide whatever they knew or didn’t know. The sad truth was that most people flat out didn’t want to get involved.
Especially if they harbored secrets of their own.
To keep the peace with local law enforcement, she crossed the room to the booth where Clint Wallace was accepting an iced tea and smiling at the young waitress. The girl was just a teenager but even she gave him a flirtatious wink as she waltzed away.
Ellie rolled her eyes, then pasted on a stony expression as she stopped at the table. The moment Clint saw her, he threw his shoulders back in a defensive gesture. “Detective,” he said grimly. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon again.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes, ignoring the irritated sigh the woman emitted. She obviously didn’t appreciate her date being interrupted.
“Trust me, it’s strictly official business,” Ellie said. “I won’t be leaving until the murder in this town is solved.”
His jaw tightened. “My people can handle it.”
“Maybe so, but like I said earlier, I’m not leaving until we get justice for the victim.” She folded her arms across her chest, chin raised. “And just so you know, I have information to share.”
His brow shot up at that.
Ellie glanced pointedly at his lunch date. “We should speak in private.”
He squeezed the woman’s slender hand. “Be right back, Vanessa.”
The woman emitted an exasperated sigh. Ellie ignored her and led the sheriff toward the hall across from the restrooms.
“We IDed the remains recovered near the cemetery,” Ellie said.
Surprise streaked his eyes. “So soon?”
“Yes. I sent the ME some names I pulled from missing persons reports and she was able to access medical and dental records and compare DNA and prints. One name popped.” She angled her phone toward the sheriff, careful to watch his reaction. “Her name is Bonnie Sylvester. Thirteen years old,in foster care, disappeared three months ago from Cleveland, Georgia.”
“Jesus. Thirteen?” He cut his eyes away as if he couldn’t bear to look at the photo of the girl.
“Do you recognize her? Maybe you saw her in town.”
He shook his head. “No. Probably should talk to the foster family.”
“Heading there when we leave here. I’m also going to speak with the investigator in charge of her case in Cleveland. But I want to show her photo around town first. Maybe someone has seen her.”
