Page 99 of Searching for Bristol
She wasn’t in Kingsport. The police there had said no one was at her house, and they’d even staked it out. No one had come or gone during the last two weeks.
He didn’t know where she was…but for some crazy reason, someone was forcing her to create jewelry, and then selling it online.
And if they were selling it, they had to be mailing it.
With that thought, Rocky turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the parking spot. He needed to go to the post office and see if Guy or the postmaster could help.
They were getting closer to finding her. Rocky felt it in his bones. This was it. The break they needed.
“Hang on, Punky,” he said out loud as he drove a little too fast toward the square. “Just a little longer.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Rocky hadn’t realized how late it was when Finley called, and by the time he arrived at the post office, it was closed. The last thing he wanted to do was go back home, but he had no choice. Having to wait for the post office to open in the morning was exceedingly frustrating. There was no guarantee that whoever had taken Bristol had mailed packages fromthispost office, but for some reason, Rocky had a feeling he was on the right track.
After another sleepless night, Rocky called Simon and asked if he would meet him at the post office as soon as they opened. He didn’t say why, not wanting to do anything that might jeopardize this lead. He also didn’t want Simon to try to talk him out of talking to the employees at the post office, to insist he was just desperate for any kind of clue, or to tell him to let the police handle the investigation.
Rocky pulled up to a spot right outside the post office on 12th Street. It wasn’t until he was out of his Tahoe and walking toward the entrance that he realized only Silas and Otto were sitting in their usual places around the circular table where they always sat.
“Where’s Art?” he asked as he approached.
Silas frowned. “We don’t know. He’s usually here by now.”
Shit. The last thing Fallport needed was another missing person.
“What’s Simon doing here?” Otto asked.
Rocky turned and saw the police chief walking across the square, toward them. “I asked him to meet me here. Finley called me with a clue yesterday, and we’re following up on it.” Rocky shook Simon’s hand when he approached.
“Where’s Art?” Simon asked.
“That’s what I asked,” Rocky told him.
“He hasn’t shown up yet,” Otto said.
“That’s odd. Maybe I’ll go check on him after we’re done here,” Simon said, then turned to Rocky. “So, why did you want to meet here this morning?” he asked.
Rocky quickly told the police chief and the other two men what Finley had discovered. Hell, he probably should’ve thought about going to see Silas and Otto last night; they might’ve seen whoever it was who’d brought the packages to be mailed, since they were literally here all day, every day…if indeed they’d been mailed from Fallport in the first place.
He turned to the two older men. “Have you seen anyone coming in frequently with small packages? I’m assuming they were small, since the items people were reviewing online were jewelry.”
Silas’s face paled—and he shared a long look with Otto.
“What? What’s wrong?” Rocky asked.
“Maybe nothing. But yesterday, we were sitting here minding our own business, like usual…”
Rocky resisted the urge to snort. These men never minded their own business. Ever.
“…and Art suddenly said he needed to do something.”
“What did he need to do?” Simon asked.
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t say. Just got a determined look on his face and got up and left. It was strange. Very strange,” Silas said.
“What happened right before he left?” Simon asked.
“I’m not sure. I mean, it was a normal day. I was beating his butt in chess and we were taking a break. A few people came by, we chatted a bit, then he just up and decided to leave.”
