Page 19 of Wild Sentinel

We canvassed the area of the abduction, talking to residents.

Nobody had video footage of the incident. None of the doorbell cameras had captured anything. About half the people on this block had them.

It made me a little suspicious. Surely somebody had to see something?

If Michelle had been jogging with headphones on, lost in her own world, she might not have heard a vehicle pull up beside her. It would take all of 15 seconds to grab her, throw her in the vehicle, and go.

We left the neighborhood and caught up with Kyle at Booster. It was a restaurant and bar where you could get burgers, sandwiches, grilled chicken, and their version of Mexican food, which was nothing like Tex-Mex.

Kyle tended bar.

It had a rustic, Southwest flair with plank walls and reclaimed-wood tables and chairs. Flatscreen TVs displayed sports and news channels. The dinner crowd hadn’t arrived yet, and the lunch crowd was long gone. The calm before the storm.

JD and I meandered to the bar.

The flatscreen behind the bar was tuned to a 24-hour news channel. The attractive blonde anchor said, “Another fire at a food processing plant has sent shares of Wholesome Harvest Foods tumbling in the aftermarket hours. Authorities have not yet determined the cause of the explosion.”

The segment cut to a reporter on location. Flames billowed into the sky.

A witness said, “There was this big-ass flash, and the shit went up in flames.”

The segment cut back to the blonde desk anchor. “This is a live feed, and we apologize for the language. We’ll keep you posted as this story develops.”

I finally got Kyle's attention and made introductions. The shiny gold badge was enough to spark concern in his eyes. "Look, I already talked to the deputies and to Sheriff Rollins.”

"We just have a few additional questions," I said.

Kyle was a handsome guy in his late 20s with wavy chocolate hair, dark eyes, a strong brow, and a jaw lined with a day or two's worth of stubble. He had an athletic frame. Not a big guy, but more than capable. He could have overpowered a petite female, forced her into a vehicle, and absconded with her. Especially at gunpoint.

"When was the last time you saw Michelle?"

Kyle shrugged. "Maybe a week or so before she disappeared.”

"I hear the break-up wasn't exactly easy."

"Are they ever?”

"Your idea or hers?”

A frown tugged his face. "It wasn't mine.”

"So you were upset?”

"You’re damn right, I was upset.”

"Did the two of you ever get into any physical altercations?”

His eyes narrowed at me, and his jaw tightened. "I told you, I went through all of this with the other deputies. I never laid a hand on Michelle. She could get a little feisty at times. She’d hit me when she was mad.”

"Did you ever hit back?”

Kyle's face soured. "No, I never hit her. I'm not some scumbag that beats up on women."

"Where were you the night of her disappearance?”

"I was right here, tending bar. If you need verification, ask my manager. Ask Jennifer," he said, pointing to a cute brunette waitress who passed by wearing hot pants and a tight crop top. “Ask any of the waitresses who were on shift that night.” He paused, then in a sincere tone said, "I really cared about Michelle.”

"Cared?”