Carter sighed through his nose and looked up to find BJ observing him.
“So now it’s ‘Jenna,’ is it?”
“No big deal.”
BJ’s lips pulled down at the corners. “If you say so.”
He wasn’t going to be lured into some woman-conversation about relationships. Especially since there was no relationship. “I want to find out everything we can on Hazzard Brothers, which is a company that does makeup and special effects, located in Burbank, California. See if they have any ex-employees who moved up here after working on White Out.”
His cell phone rang again and he answered. “Carter.”
“Christ, Shane, what kind of witch hunt have you got going?” Wes Allen demanded. “Someone’s got a tail on me and I want to fucking know why!”
“Maybe you should come in and we’ll talk about it.”
“Talk about what?” Wes demanded. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to pin the murders on me.”
Carter tensed. “You mean abductions, right?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, you know we all think those women are dead. I hope to hell not, but come on…does it seem likely that the creep who’s got ’em is keeping them all prisoners?”
“You tell me.”
“Oh, fuck this! I’m calling my lawyer, Shane. I’ve got rights. I haven’t done anything wrong and you’ve got someone watching me! This is a vendetta and I’m going to sue your ass from here until hell’s gates if you don’t let up.”
“Sue to your heart’s content.”
“You sanctimonious, hypocritical bastard! I’ll have your job.”
“Go for it,” he said, but Allen had already slammed down the phone.
“Your fan club?” BJ asked.
“Just the president of it.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to get yourself in real trouble?” BJ wasn’t smiling. It wasn’t a joke.
“Because you’re a perceptive woman, BJ. Very perceptive.”
“What’s going on, Shane?”
“I think we’re going to nail the son of a bitch who’s behind all this, that’s what. Call Hazzard Brothers and see how much alginate they use, if they’re missing any, who their supplier is. Then ask them about their recent employees. Let’s see if we can come up with a name that matches one of the names on this.” He thumped two fingers on top of the printout of people who had rented or bought Jenna Hughes’s movies. “I’ll bet you a hundred to one, there’s a match.”
CHAPTER 42
“I’ll be there,” Jenna said, leaning a shoulder against the cupboard door as Rinda sniffled on the other end of the phone.
“I hate to ask. I know you’re going through your own thing, but I really think I should attend the vigil. I could go with Scott, but he’s kept to himself lately, always out, never around…” She sighed heavily. “Sometimes I don’t think I know him anymore.”
“I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“When they’re sixteen. Not when they’re twenty-four. When I was his age, I was already married and a mother…okay, strike that thought. I’d hate for him to go through what I did.”
“He’ll find his way,” Jenna said, cringing at the sound of her own platitudes. She didn’t believe it for a minute, but right now, when Rinda was still feeling guilty about Lynnetta’s disappearance, wasn’t the time to remark that Jenna found Rinda’s son a little offbeat, if not an out-and-out weirdo. No mother wants to hear that.
“I hope so…God, with all that’s going on, I just wish he’d stay home. Close.” That much Jenna did understand as she thought of her own two girls. “So anyway, where do you want to meet me?”
“I think I still owe you a cup of coffee, so let’s hook up at the Java Bean at six-thirty. We can go to the vigil together. It’s at seven, right?”