The white with gray trim, two-story house was neat and clean, recently painted, the yard well-tended, the front door standing open. Inside, an empty living room. To the left, the dining area revealed a table that held a tray of donuts and muffins, a coffee maker, and towers of Styrofoam cups.
A man pushed through a door. He stopped when he saw them.
Tall, angular with a narrow face, white hair to his shoulders, droopy white mustache. Sharp, blue eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“We’re looking for Reverend John,” Harper said.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Harper McCoy. This is Bobby Cain.”
“Welcome to my humble abode. What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for Marla Jackson.”
His posture stiffened. “Why?”
“She witnessed a kidnapping last night.”
Confusion settled over this face. “What are you talking about?”
“Dr. Buckner. Over at the hospital. He was apparently kidnapped from the parking lot. According to Chief Crowe, Marla witnessed it.”
“I haven’t heard anything about that.”
“You will,” Cain said.
“Who are you?” John asked.
“We were hired by Dr. Buckner’s father,” Harper said. “To find him.”
“Marla didn’t say anything about this to me this morning.”
“All we know is she called Chief Crowe from the ER and told her she saw it go down. And the doctor is missing.”
“Good gracious. That’s awful.”
“Is Marla here?” Cain asked.
“No. She headed out maybe a half hour ago.”
“Any idea where we might find her?”
“The streets. I imagine she’s out there panhandling. It’s what she does most days.”
“To buy drugs?” Harper asked.
He sighed. “Mostly.” He looked toward the door. “Marla, what the devil have you gotten into now?”
“Right now, she’s a possible witness,” Cain said. “Nothing more.”
“We know what you do here,” Harper said. “Cassie, Chief Crowe, told us. Seems like a good thing.”
“I try. Sometimes more successfully than other times.”
Harper sensed the pain behind his eyes. Her first impression of Reverend John was that he was a good soul, doing good work. “Marla? She a success story?”
“Marla’s special. No doubt about that.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “But success might be stretching it. I have a strict no drug policy here. She doesn’t always follow the rules. But I can’t seem to turn my back on her.”
There it was again. That flash of sadness behind his eyes. “Why’s that?” Harper asked.
“Do you know her? Ever met her?”
“Not yet.”
“You’ll see. She was by far the prettiest girl in town. A good student from what I hear. She had a bright future until she went down the wrong road. Still, she has something to her. She’s smart, though some of her choices might belie that.” A deeper sigh. “But she’s worth saving, if that’s possible.”
That’s the tricky part, Harper thought. Saving the salvageable. Most drug-addicted kids were salvageable but too few grasped the lifeline. There are only three ways out of addiction: recovery, insanity, and death. Too often the latter two beat out recovery. To Harper, Reverend John seemed like a frontline, in the trenches soldier in that war. She also saw the lines on his face that revealed his work was taking its toll.
After thanking Reverend John, giving him their phone numbers and asking him to call if Marla returned, they walked down Main Street. They didn’t have to find Marla, she found them. Stepped from behind a tree and approached.
“Can you spare any change?” she asked.
Harper knew it was her immediately, from the pictures of Marla she had found online; high school yearbook, a couple of Facebook posts, a mug shot from two years ago. Her large, bright blue eyes now tired and dull; her model-like high cheek bones now sentinels over painfully sunken cheeks; her brilliant smile now showing the ravages of meth. But, behind all the damage, her beauty peeked through. No wonder Reverend John couldn’t cut her loose. Kept taking her back into the fold. To Harper, Marla looked sad and beaten more than anything else.
“Marla?” Harper asked.
She abruptly stopped.
“I’m Harper McCoy. This is Bobby Cain.”
Marla stared at them but said nothing, glancing up the sidewalk as if searching for an escape route.
“Relax,” Harper said. “We simply want to ask a couple of questions.”
“About what?”
“Last night.”
Marla’s eyes widened.
“Chief Crowe told us about it,” Cain said. “Reverend John suggested we look for you here.”
Another look around. Marla seemed to be processing what they had said. Probably trying to decide if she should run. She didn’t, and finally asked, “Who are you?”
Harper explained why they were there and what they were doing.
“Dr. Buck’s father hired you?”
“He did.”
Her shoulders dropped. Her head, too.
“How about something to eat?” Harper asked.
Marla hesitated, then nodded.
They entered a nearby coffee shop where Cain bought coffee and a ham and cheese croissant for Marla. The girl behind the counter gave the trio a look, glanced hard in Marla’s direction. Harper saw disdain on her face. Made her want to slap her or drag her over the counter and punch her teeth into her lungs. She refrained. Wasn’t easy.
Cain paid and carried the items to a corner table where they settled. Marla ate like she was starved. Probably was. And was bottoming out. Needing to get well, score a fix. Harper saw all the signs.
“Run us through what you saw,” Harper said.
She did. Going to the ER. Dr. Buck treating her infected injection site. Holding up her arm, displaying the bandage. Seeing the black SUV. She didn’t know what kind. Just big. The two men. One with a gun. Forcing the doctor into the back. Driving away.
“What did the guys look like?” Cain asked.
“I couldn’t see them well. One was tall and had dark hair in a ponytail. The other was smaller and slimmer.”
“Where were you?” Harper asked.
“Across the street. In the park.”
“Alone?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“You sure?” Cain asked.
Nothing.
“Look, Marla, we aren’t interested in what you were doing, but if we can locate another witness, it might help.”
“No, I was alone. He was already gone.”
“Who?”
Again, nothing.
“Were you using?” Harper asked.
Marla hugged herself, cupping her elbows with her hands. She nodded.
“What?”
“Meth. Heroin.”
“And the guy? He your supplier?”
She nodded, her gaze toward her lap. “Not
