Page 7 of Shelter for Martina

That was a name Bud had never heard before, but he wanted to know more. “How can I get my hands on what’s said?”

He heard Arlen snicker. “Well, I don’t know. Howwillyou get your hands on that? Maybe you have a friend at the sheriff’s department?”

Bud grinned. “Yeah! Maybe I do! Okay. Let me know how you want to do that.”

“I’ll bring it over.”

“Sounds good. See you later.”

“You bet.”

Burgess’s biological father. That was interesting. What did he have to do with anything? Bud pulled up birth records for Burgess, but there was no father listed. Was that a new development? It was worth checking on, but he’d wait until he got the information through Arlen before he started digging.

Lunchtime rolled around and he stopped at a fast food place on his way out of Henderson. Of course, he ran into two or three people he knew. He couldn’t go anywhere without seeing someone he knew. When he was finished, he slid back into the car and headed to Hartford.

When he pulled into the driveway, it was a little after two. The car he’d seen there before was gone, and he wondered if that meant Mrs.Anderson was at work. He waited after knocking twice, but she never came to the door, so he opened the storm door and left a note stuck in it when he closed it.

Mrs.Anderson, I just wanted you to know I’m working on your daughter’s case. Although we’ve processed the car and it held nothing of interest, I’ll keep going and let you know if we find something. In the meantime, if you’ve heard anything, please let me know. Det.Griffin

As he drove away, he wondered where she worked and when she got home. Did she have a lot of friends she went places with and did things with? Or was she a home-body who came home and stayed there? Why were those questions going through his mind? Why would he even care? For reasons he couldn’t understand, he did.

The afternoon was almost over when he got another call from Arlen. When he answered, the deputy didn’t even greet him. “I just put something in your mailbox.”

“Oh! Okay. Thanks.”

“I think you’re going to find this very interesting. Let me know what you think.”

“Okay. Will do. Thanks again.” He had intended to stay in the office, but he decided he’d go home. He lived in Robards, not far from the post, so it wouldn’t take too long to get there.

As soon as he reached the driveway, he hopped out and checked the mailbox. There were several pieces of junk mail, but underneath it all was a small manila envelope with something hard inside, and he was glad he’d decided to come on home. Carrying it all into the car and then into the house, he ripped open the envelope and let the little flash drive drop to the countertop. His laptop was up and ready, and he stuck the drive in the USB port, then found it in the sidebar and opened the document. He read it, eyes bulging in shock, not quite believing what he was seeing, and he wondered what SheriffSmarty-pants made of that interview and how stupid he felt when he heard everything PhilAdams had to say. He’d finished reading it and was printing it off to make some notes with a red pen when his phone rang. “DetectiveGriffin.”

“DetectiveGriffin? It’s MartinaAnderson. Do you have a minute?”

“I certainly do. I was about to call you.”

“I got your note. Have you found anything? Any sign of Renita?”

Measuring his words carefully, he answered. “Maybe. Will you be available tomorrow?”

“I’llmakemyself available.”

“Good. I need to talk to you. Where do you work?”

“The freight terminal in CentralCity.”

Bud knew the location well. “Look, don’t take off work for this. What time do you get off?”

“Three. I had some shopping to do today or I would’ve called earlier.”

“How ‘bout I meet you at that breakfast place on Green River Road when you get off work?”

“Sounds good. I’ll be there. And DetectiveGriffin?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Thank you. You’re the first person who’s seemed to give a damn.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am. See you then.” Bud ended the call and sat there. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something. But there was one thing that interview didn’t do.

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