We scoured the city looking for Jocelyn Stewart. Looked everywhere. Looked into every conceivable place from the uptown ritz to riverside sleazy. Looked twice. Asked a lot of questions. Looked again. Found nothing. She had no cell phone with her to trace her that way. She ditched the maid’s car about a mile down from her mansion where the road crossed over a major highway. She didn’t even leave any fingerprints in the car. The old thing had been wiped clean. We put out a BOLO to all the local and state law enforcement departments giving them her description. And we waited for that proverbial lucky break.
Nothing.
Not a peep. Not a hint. Not even anyone calling in with a mistaken identity. It was as if Jocelyn Stewart never existed. So, as the sun was beginning to slink its way up above t
