Those Girls

“Maybe this all came down on them too fast,” Dallas said. “They haven’t had time to deal with everything.”


“Bring your gun,” I said.

*

We drove down the same side road and stared at the driveway. My temple was pounding with a headache, all the muscles in my body tense. We assumed Brian lived in the bigger house with his family and Gavin lived in the smaller one below. We figured we could cut across the field and avoid the driveway after he left.

We sat in the car for an hour. We were hot, sweaty, and smoking too many cigarettes. My throat was dry, my head aching. I glanced at my watch. It was almost one, and there’d been no sign of them. We’d brought water but had almost drunk all of it when we finally saw Gavin’s black truck pulling out of his driveway, and then going up to the main house, a plume of dust behind him.

“He might be gone for only a few minutes,” I said.

“It might also be our only chance,” Dallas said.

“Okay, let’s go.”

We climbed the fence and cut through a lower field, trying to stay on the edges of the ranch until a house came in sight. “That must be Gavin’s,” I said.

The front doors on the shop wouldn’t slide up. We circled the garage and tried the side door, but there was a big padlock on the door. We noticed a window at the back. Dallas hoisted me up. I wiped at the dirt on the window.

“Can you see anything?” she said.

“It’s dark, but it looks like there are two cars—they’re both under tarps.” I looked around. “And some cutting tools on the bench! Shit, I think they’re stripping the cars.”

Dallas lowered me, and we looked for a way to break into the garage.

“Maybe we could smash the padlock with a rock,” I said.

Dallas was staring at the house. “Listen how loud that music’s playing.”

“Should we try to break in?”

She looked down the driveway, then in the direction of the ranch.

“This might be our only chance,” I said.

She nodded. “Let’s do it.”

I tried the back porch door. Locked.

Dallas was looking up at the porch roof. “Do you hear something? Like underneath the country music?”

The music was even louder near the house.

“That thudding sound?”

“Yeah.”

We were both quiet, but we couldn’t hear the sound anymore.

“Maybe we should smash one of the windows,” I said.

“Let’s check the front first.” Dallas was walking around the corner of the house when she stopped suddenly. “Crap, I think a truck’s coming!”

We ran for the back of the garage, keeping low. We’d just made it when I heard the truck pull up. We leaned against the wall, our bodies tucked behind some old barrels, staring at each other. The truck shut off and a door opened.

“Wait.” Dallas peeked around the corner. I held my breath. “Okay, let’s go.”

We were crossing the field, trying to get to a cover of trees, when a shout rang out behind us.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I glanced back and saw Gavin running down the hill after us. I started sprinting, Dallas running hard beside me, our feet thudding on the compact ground. I looked over my shoulder, almost tripping on a rock. He was slowing down, then stopped in the middle of the field, watching us.

“That was really stupid, bitches!” he yelled.

*

We clambered through the fence, dashed across the road, jerked open the car doors, and jumped in. Dallas tore off down the road.

I looked out the rearview mirror. No one was following.

“We can never go back now,” Dallas said. “He’ll be keeping watch.”

“He has their cars,” I said, starting to cry. “That’s why Gavin refused the search—he must have them in the house.”

“We have to tell the cops,” Dallas said. “They can get a warrant.”

I called McPhail as soon as we got within range.

“We found their cars,” I said.

“Where?” He sounded surprised.

“In Gavin’s garage. We snuck onto the property. There are two cars under some tarps, and cutting tools out on a bench. We also heard thudding noises coming from inside the house. We think he has the girls. Can you get a warrant?”

“Not if you didn’t see the actual cars. A vehicle under a tarp isn’t enough.”

I closed my eyes. Shit. Shit. Why hadn’t I lied?

“What about the noises we heard? He has country music on really loud too—like he’s trying to cover something up.”

“The noise could’ve been anything, even a washing machine out of balance. And if the music was that loud, how can you be sure what you heard?”

“We both heard it.”

“You need to let us do our jobs,” he said. “Putting yourself in danger is not helping. You’re just interfering with the investigation.”

“You’re not finding any fucking evidence!”

“Look. We have to do this the right way. If we force our way onto the property and find something we didn’t lawfully obtain, the whole case could get thrown out.”

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