Free The Missing Place by Sophie Littlefield

Colleen said, her voice tight. “He and his friend Taylor are missing. Instead of focusing on the unimaginative list of possible scenarios you’ve come up with, I am wondering why you and your men aren’t doing any actual police work in an effort to find them.” She held up a hand to stop Weyant’s protests. “I understand that your resources are finite. I can only guess at the demands on your staff. I’m not a police officer. But I damn well expect my son— our sons—to get at least as much attention as a liquor store holdup or highway accident or domestic dispute. And you haven’t told me one concrete thing you’ve done to find out where they are.”
    â€œAs I told Mrs. Capparelli—”
    â€œAnd that’s another thing.” Fury had gradually shaded Colleen’s face a deep red. Shay marveled at the change in her. Somehow she’d pulled her shit together, turning from the blubbering mess in the truck stop to a fearsome bitch. “It’s Ms. Capparelli. Not Mrs.”
    Weyant looked from Colleen to Shay and back again. “Look here,” he started.
    â€œI am interested in everything you have to say,” Colleen went on, opening her purse and searching through the contents. “In fact, I want to make sure I get it all down.”
    â€œI’ll take notes,” Shay said, grabbing her notebook out of her own handbag. Later there would be time to resent Weyant for being intimidated by Colleen after dismissing her. For now, they needed to benefit from the momentum. “You talk.”
    â€œThank you.” Colleen returned her purse to the floor. “Let’s startwith which officers are involved with the case, or assigned to it, or whatever the proper term is.”
    â€œI don’t have to . . .” Weyant wiped his forehead, shaking his head, before starting over. “I wouldn’t want to say without checking the duty roster. But you can consider me your liaison. I don’t want you contacting my officers, disrupting their work. You need something, you come to me.”
    Colleen raised an eyebrow. “Noted.”
    â€œThat’s not what Sanders told me before,” Shay muttered.
    â€œIt’s all right, Shay,” Colleen said, giving her a bland smile. “We can revisit that later if we need to. Now, what steps have your officers taken? Who have they interviewed; what leads have they tracked down?”
    â€œWhen Ms. Capparelli notified us of her concern, officers were sent out to the Black Creek Lodge—”
    â€œNot the first time I called,” Shay interrupted, as she wrote. “Took you all three days.”
    â€œThey interviewed staff there and confirmed the boys hadn’t been around for a few days,” Weyant continued, testily. “They talked to their employers. Believe they went out in the field. They’ll have the names of the supervisors they talked to. But the upshot is, no one on the rig knew anything. The boys simply didn’t show up for work.”
    â€œThe officers spoke to the men who worked closely with Taylor and Paul? Their coworkers?”
    â€œI’m sure they did,” Weyant said, looking not very sure at all.
    â€œWhat about other men who were staying at the lodge? Restaurants or other places they were known to go?”
    â€œWell, now you’re getting into a gray, that is to say, an area where we don’t devote more resources until there’s a reason. Something to suggest a direction to go.”
    â€œYou mean, like them still not turning up?” Shay snapped.
    Weyant turned on her, his irritation obvious. “Like an indication that harm has actually been done to them. Your son’s vehicle hasn’t been seen at the lodge since the day you reported him missing, which to me says there’s a good chance he drove out of here on his own steam.”
    â€œ Truck. Not vehicle. My son drives a white Chevy