Page 26 of Another Girl Lost

“I wasn’t working that shift, but the owner was here then.”

Scarlett Crosby had been rescued on September 2. “And the owner is where?”

“I’ll get him.”

“Thanks.”

He sat back, his gaze scanning the front entrance, the breakfast bar, and the door that led to the back room and the lot behind it. He’d seen the security footage of a fifteen-year-old Scarlett walking through the front door. Wide eyed with fear, her body tense, her hands clenched. Nothing like the woman he’d met on Thursday.

Scarlett had told the cops that Tanner had already picked out Tiffany. Clearly, he’d been watching her when he ate his meals at the diner. Though Dawson had told Mrs. Gardner he needed evidence, in his mind Tanner had also chosen Sandra from this diner, kidnapped her, and killed her.

“Can I help you?”

Dawson looked up toward the deeply lined face of a burly man standing by his booth. He was wearing a Mike’s Diner T-shirt, and his long gray hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “Mike Hart?”

“That’s right.”

“Like to have a seat?”

Mike glanced over his shoulder at the crowded bar. “It’s going to have to be quick. Lunch rush is on the way.”

Dawson reached in his pocket and pulled out a picture of Sandra Taylor. “Remember her?”

“She used to work here. It’s been a while.”

“Ten years. Can you tell me anything about her?”

“Employees come and go here all the time. I barely remember last week, let alone ten years ago.”

Dawson showed Mike a picture of Tiffany. “Remember the day she was almost kidnapped?”

“I’ll never forget it. Labor Day weekend. I was working the griddle that day because the cook hadn’t shown up. I called out to Tiffany for an order and saw that she wasn’t at the counter or in the dining room. I thought she’d gone to the alley for a smoke break. I remember being pissed. And then I heard a scream.”

“It was Tiffany?”

“I don’t know. She said later it was that Scarlett chick. Either way, I ran out, my spatula still in my hand. Tiffany just about ran me over when she came flying in through the back door. She was screaming we needed to call the cops.”

“You placed that call, correct?”

“I did. And then I went out into the alley and saw Tanner Reed punch Scarlett. She dropped like a stone. He tossed her limp body in the back of his van and took off. I got the license plate.”

That’s what had led to the BOLO and the confrontation miles from here. “What did Tiffany tell you about the event?”

“At first, she didn’t have much to say. She was in shock. But as time went on, she seemed to remember more, especially when a reporter was calling.”

Memory was an odd phenomenon. It wasn’t as reliable as people wanted to think. Minds weren’t steel traps and most leaked. Folks also tended to embellish their memories with emotions or extraneous information later linked to the event. “How did her story change?”

“Tiffany was convinced that other girl was in trouble the minute she walked into the diner. Described her as thin, pale, and clearly nervous. No one else in the diner noticed the kid. Like I said, it was a busy day, and we were all going full tilt. I never saw Tiffany slipping out the back door.”

“No one spoke to this girl, Scarlett?”

“No.”

“What about Tanner Reed, the man driving the van?”

“He was a regular. I liked the guy.”

A bell rang in the kitchen, and Mike raised a hand, signaling he was on his way. “Why all the questions now? Did you find a dead body or something?”

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