And secondly, this was no schoolgirl. Looking more closely, May saw that she was probably in her thirties. Late thirties, most likely. And while the tie and the shirt and the short skirt did look like a school uniform, the same could not be said for those racy stiletto-heeled shoes.
She was a hooker, dressed as a schoolgirl.
“What’s going on here?” May asked sternly, looking from Joey to the hooker and back again. The two looked terrified, glancing at each other.
“Nothing,” the hooker said, her face white with fear, her wide eyes rimmed with dark liner and mascara.
“Nothing?” May questioned.
“She’s just a friend. Just a friend,” Joey stammered. “Honest.”
“I don’t think so,” May said firmly.
Owen stepped closer to the tent. Pulling on a pair of gloves, he went inside, and May knew he would be scouring the interior for any signs of contraband, drugs—or any links to Emily, any wood or nails, sleeping pills, anything that might match up with the shocking scene that was etched into her mind.
But it was becoming clear why Joey had been reluctant to have his tent raided, and May was starting to suspect that he’d run for a different reason. He’d run because he’d known his “friend” was stashed away in here, and was worried he’d get into trouble for it.
“I—look, it was just some fun,” Joey stammered.
May decided to cut right through the excuses. It was getting late. She needed specific information from him and wanted it now. Then he would either be cleared, or they could bring him in.
“Give me a detailed account of your movements today. And I also need a detailed account of your whereabouts exactly two weeks ago,” May said.
Exactly two weeks ago, to the day, Emily had gone missing on her way home from school. So May wanted a clear alibi for that day. And she also wanted to account for what Joey had done today. Had he been near the lake, dumping a body?
She waited. Joey was looking nervously back and forth between her and the hooker, and she realized that he was hoping the hooker would help him out and lie for him. But it was clear from the look on the hooker’s face that she was going to say nothing.
May waited. The man was clearly scared. But she had to get the truth from him.
“Look, today I don’t really have a clear timeline,” he said apologetically. “I did some odd jobs in the morning for the construction guys. They sometimes have extra work for me. They paid me cash and I went into town, got a few things. I, er, I met up with Candyfloss here, and asked her to come around later.”
“Candyfloss?” Owen repeated incredulously.
The hooker looked down, shuffling her stiletto-heeled feet.
“Two weeks ago. Can you account for your movements then?” May continued, facing up to Joey.
“Yes. Yes, I can. Two weeks ago, I was out of town for the night.”
“Are you sure?” she repeated.
“Yes. I was looking for some spare cash, and a guy at the diner said that there was a camping site that needed cleaning and clearing. It was about four hours from here, up in the mountains. I went with three other guys and we stayed there three days. We worked hard. There was a lot to do. Weeding, tidying, sweeping. He paid all of us cash at the end, and also gave us a ride back here.”
“Who was the guy?” May asked.
“I’ve got his number on my phone. I’ll show you now. You’re welcome to call him but please don’t say anything bad, because he said he might use me again. He paid well.” Joey looked at her pleadingly.
“There’s no reason for me to do anything but confirm the alibi,” May said, reluctantly acknowledging that her own kind heart would not allow her to compromise anyone’s chances of getting honest work.
And even though he was definitely an unstable and slightly shady person, he was obviously capable of doing an honest day’s work.
Joey nodded and pulled out his phone. He searched through his list of contacts and gave her the number for Howard Harvey, owner of Howard Harvey Campsites.
She noted it down, resolving to call it as soon as possible to confirm this alibi.
At that moment, Owen came out of the tent.
“There’s no evidence of any contraband inside,” he said.