Page 10 of Girl Lost
She should just walk away. Leave Millie Beach and never look back. She’d lived the last eighteen years just fine. More than fine. She’d thrived. Built a good life for herself. A life of purpose.
But what about her purpose? The one God had mapped out for her life?
That thought stopped her cold.
Stryker had shown her kindness when no one else had bothered. Back when she was just a skinny kid with too-big eyes and fierce self-reliance that refused all help. He’d taken her in without question.Welcomed her into his world of structure and kindness. He’d become the only father she’d ever known. The only one who’d stuck around long enough to earn the title.
And her daughter. The baby she’d given up all those years ago. The tiny face that haunted her every moment since. The little girl who carried half her DNA but whom she’d never heard call her “Mama.” Not once.
Maybe that was purpose enough.
But knowing her purpose and fulfilling it were two different things. And one thing stood clear. She couldn’t tackle this alone. She needed help. Drawing in a breath, she made her decision.
She dialed the number.
4
THE DINER’S SURVEILLANCECAMERAhadn’t caught the kidnappers. Just Luna. Sitting there, waiting.
Luna. The sight of her, even after all these years, had sent a shock wave through him.
Corbin watched Blade lead Angie to a quiet corner of the diner for questioning. He glanced at Marge. If he wrapped this up quickly, he could try to find Luna. Heneededto talk to her. Needed to understand why she’d come back. Why now? Why here?
A tsunami of questions threatened to drown everything, but he couldn’t dwell on Luna now. He needed answers about Carlie, and Marge might have some.
The older woman stood with her arms folded across her chest, her weathered face set in a scowl. Smells of burned coffee and grease hung in the air. He could use coffee right about now, but Marge wasn’t offering.
“The real reason I came in here today was to ask you a few questions about Carlie Tinch,” he said. “Mind if we sit?”
Marge’s scowl deepened. “Ain’t got time to sit. Got a business to run, you know.”
Corbin glanced around the empty diner. “I saw the video, Marge. It looked pretty quiet in here all morning.”
Marge huffed.
He had at least one thing in common with Marge. He didn’t want to be a part of this interview right now any more than she did. “Listen, I have a missing kid, and it’s my job to find her before trouble does. You’d be doing me a huge favor if I can have a few more minutes of your time.”
“Fine. But make it quick.” She jerked her chin toward a nearby booth. “Sit.”
They settled into the cracked vinyl seats. “I’m investigating Carlie Tinch’s disappearance.” He placed his phone on the table with the screen showing a picture of Carlie. “This is her. She’s been missing for a while now, and we’re trying to retrace her steps. I recently learned she was a regular here. Anything you remember about the last time you saw her, even if it seems trivial, could be really important.”
Marge squinted at the photo, then peered over her bifocals at Corbin. “Carlie. Sweet girl, but trouble. Always trouble.” She tapped a long, nicotine-stained fingernail on the table. “Let’s see, now. Last time I saw her ... yeah, she was here. With another girl. Ashley, I think.”
“Ashley Phillips?” Corbin pulled up another photo on his phone and showed Marge.
“That’s her.” Marge coughed into her fist. The phlegmy rattle didn’t sound good. “Those two. Thick as thieves.”
Ashley. Carlie’s “bestie” as the girl had put it during their first interview. “Do you remember anything about that morning?”
“They sat right there.” Marge pointed to a table in the far corner. “It was busy, I remember that much. Angie called in sick, so I was filling in. Don’t do much waitressing these days. Not as strong as I used to be.”
Corbin nodded. “Did you overhear any of their conversation?”
Marge chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. “Overhear? Honey, inthis place, I hear everything. Those two girls? They were gabbing away like magpies. Mostly about their parents. Typical teenage stuff. The world’s against them. Nobody understands them, blah, blah, blah. Ashley complaining about her twin brother, like always.”
“How do you know they’re twins?” He’d somehow missed that detail.
“They come in sometimes as a family on Sunday after church. Locals. Been coming since they were little squirmers who couldn’t hardly sit still.”
