A Billy Jo McCabe Mystery Box Set

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The wilderness camp on the other side of the island was both remote and odd. The cabins were pretty rough, with no heat, and the bathrooms had only cold water. The kitchen building operated mainly with a wood stove. Although it was kind of cool to visit, something about the place didn’t sit right with Mark Friessen, who took in the kids, the staff and counselors running the place. He had more questions than answers as he climbed out of his black Jeep TJ.

“Excuse me. You can’t be up here,” said a woman heading right for him down the grassy hill. She had dark hair pulled back and was wearing one of those wilderness T-shirts and blue jeans.

Mark pulled back his jean jacket to show his badge tucked into his waistband, as he could feel her getting ready to show him the road. “Mark Friessen,” he said. “A call came in from someone at the camp about a missing girl.”

Could he not make one trip off the island without getting back in time for all hell to break loose? First CJ, now this.

“Oh, yes,” the woman said. “Shay is gone. I put a call in to her social worker, as well. She was here last night, and we do bed checks, so everyone was accounted for, but this morning, her bed was empty, with no sign of her anywhere…”

He heard a car and turned to see a gray Corolla pulling in, stopping and starting as if the driver were confused about where to go. He couldn’t quite make out who was behind the wheel, but he thought it was a woman.

“I’m sure you’ve already been told that for missing persons, there’s a 48-hour—”

“She’s thirteen, and she’s in the care of the state,” the woman said.

He wondered why the chief had forgotten to mention those details. He reached for his phone to check the text again. It was the chief’s day off, and unless a body washed up or something pretty serious went down, he didn’t cancel his day off.

Girl missing at wilderness camp. Check it out!

The counselor walked around him just as he heard a car door, and he turned to see a young woman stepping out from the Corolla, parked behind his Jeep. She had shoulder-length brown hair and wore blue capris and a matching blouse, baggy, like the outfits his mom would wear. She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head. Something about her seemed familiar, maybe from a previous encounter.

Trouble with the locals? A lost tourist?

“Hi,” she called out. “I’m the county social worker, Billy Jo McCabe.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet and ID.

The camp staffer walked right up to the social worker to examine her ID, then nodded.

What was her name…Billy Jo? She looked right at him, and something about her expression and the way she looked at him told him she was pissed. Where did he know her from? He took a step and then another toward her.

“Jeanette Holmes,” the staffer said. “I’m one of the counselors here. I was just talking to the detective when you pulled in.” She pointed to him over her shoulder with her thumb.

Mark shoved his phone back in his pocket. It looked like all the kids out on the hill were wearing the same T-shirt, but some also wore hats. They were following one another in anything but an orderly line to one of the buildings.

“Detective Mark Friessen,” he said again as he joined the women. “Again, I have to say this: Maybe you’re jumping the gun by sounding the alarm about her being missing. Thirteen, you said? She likely took off for a hike, a walk, and maybe got lost. It’s not even noon. She’s a kid. That’s what they do.”

“Excuse me,” Billy Jo snapped. “If you don’t mind, it sounds to me as if you have your mind already made up about the girl.”

He felt the slap.

She turned back to Jeanette, who didn’t seem to know where to look, and said, “Her name is Shay, is that right?”

It had been a long time since he’d felt a woman’s dismissal, but he was damn sure that was exactly what he was on the receiving end of now.

“That’s right,” Jeanette said, “Shay Williams. But it’s more than that. I knew something was wrong. You just get a feeling when you work with these kids. I don’t know her well or her home life, but she had some concerning marks on her. Most of the kids who come here have a story. Every single one of them comes dragging a ton of baggage.”

“What kind of marks, exactly?” Billy Jo said. “I had only a brief chance to look at her file, and from the conversation I had with my boss, it doesn’t sound as if we have too much information. I take it the call came from you?”

What was it about this woman? She wasn’t looking at him, but he was trying to figure out where he knew her from. Was it the cafe in town, or had they met on another case? No, he remembered every case he’d worked since landing on the island eight months earlier.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I know you from somewhere. Where, exactly, have we met? Because I’m pretty good with faces. Was it a case, a warning I gave you…?”

Her expression darkened. He really did have a way with women, but then, any time he considered getting close to a woman, he ended up burned. All the women he seemed to attract were cold hearted and difficult.

He realized Billy Jo was saying nothing, dragging her gaze so slowly from Jeanette over to him. Her eyes were brown, and her expression was scathing. What was the big deal? Maybe something had happened between them. He seriously hoped she hadn’t been one of the women he’d picked up after a few drinks only to conveniently lose her number after.

He gestured toward her, because now he was in it. “I kind of like to know who I’m dealing with. You’re a social worker here? But we’ve met—”

“You’re kidding, right?” She cut him off. “A kid is missing, and you’re more concerned about where we met?” She made a rude noise, and he found himself looking over at the camp counselor, feeling he was about to be dismissed again. “So, Jeanette, can you tell me about these marks on Shay and where they were?”

“No, just hang on a second, here,” Mark said. “I’m the police, so I’ll ask the questions.”

There was just something about this woman. He suddenly felt as if he were about to be neutered. There was no way in hell he was about to fall under the foot of a woman again. Maybe he hadn’t picked her up, after all. Maybe she was gay or just didn’t like men, period.

She lifted her brow, about to challenge him. He’d known enough strong women to know when one was trying to tell him what to do.

“Jeanette, is it?” he said, turning to the counselor. “How about you tell me everything about this camp, this girl, all the staff here, and who last saw her? And, while we’re at it, tell me about these marks you’re concerned about. Who are her parents? Have they been contacted? And why are you so convinced something has happened?”

He spotted another man walking their way. He was about his age, he thought, with brown hair, wearing the same T-shirt, which had to be the camp uniform. He lifted his hand to them and said, “Hello, there. Can I help you folks? This is a closed camp, and visiting day isn’t until Wednesday.”

Jeanette crossed her arms. Billy Jo was staring at Mark in a way that told him she was about to ignore anything he said.

“Todd, I told you I was calling the police,” Jeanette said. “Her social worker—”

“And I told you that you were jumping the gun in sounding the alarm,” Todd said. “You’re going to jam Shay up. It’s likely she went off alone. The kid has had too many tough breaks, so give her a good one here.”

Okay, he kind of liked this guy, sort of.

Todd walked over to him. “I’m so sorry about this. Todd Spencer, head councilor. I’m responsible for everyone here.” He actually held his hand out to Mark, who shook it but didn’t miss Billy Jo’s reaction, the way she rolled her eyes.

“Excuse me. Todd, is it?” She stepped over to them, and he took in how short she was, kind of like his sister-in-law, Evie, about five foot two, give or take, but she gave off a powerful vibe that she wasn’t about to take anything lying down. “Let me cut into this boys’ club and point out to you that Shay is a minor. I’m a social worker and have been sent in by the state, so let me be very clear that you have a responsibility to notify us immediately of any issues. If you’re running things here, how about I start with you? Tell me about these marks on Shay and how long she’s had them. I want to see her things and her cabin, then talk to everyone here.”

Mark just stared down at her, feeling the challenge. The two counselors were leaning toward answering to her, this woman who still hadn’t told him where they’d met. He wondered, in this mess, why that bothered him more than anything.

“Can I have a word with you?” he said, leaning in. This spitfire wasn’t smiling and wasn’t taking her cue from him. Maybe he needed to set her straight on how it worked here. “Now, over here?” He gestured with this thumb. “Excuse us for a minute, would you?”

The counselors stepped away, whereas Billy Jo crossed her arms and flicked her gaze up to him, pissed off, angry. He wasn’t going to look too closely into that.

“Mark, is it?” she said. When he touched her arm to move her closer to his Jeep, she stared at his hand until he pulled it away.

“Sorry, my mistake.” He lifted his hands. “I just want to have a word with you on how things work here. You’re not in charge. If the girl’s missing, this is a police investigation. You’re, what, a social worker?”

Her eyes widened, maybe because of how he’d said it. But then, he had only two ways of talking to women, and right now he could feel her wanting to fight instead of sitting back and letting him do his job.

She raised a brow. “Mark Friessen, is it?”

The way she said it, the way he felt her lean in, he knew he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. He angled his head and gave it a shake. Two could play this game.

“That’s Detective Friessen to you,” he said.

She laughed and shook her head. “Okay. You know what? Been there, done that. Let’s be clear here. There’s a missing girl in the system who could be hurt, for all we know, yet you’re trying to get into a pissing contest about who has more authority. The only thing that should matter is this girl—who is thirteen, by the way, and likely hasn’t had anyone give a s**t about her, ever. So, if you don’t mind, could you put away this disdain of yours and get over yourself already? The only thing I’m interested in is finding this girl and making sure she’s okay, and then, if someone has hurt her, I need to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Do we understand each other?”

As she stepped back, he realized where he knew her from. “You’re the chick from the ferry,” he said.

All she did was stare at him, then shook her head. “Right, and you’re the asshole who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather get back to more important things than you.” She dragged her gaze down, and he could feel the slight, the jab.

“Actually, I do mind,” he said. “You may be a social worker, but that’s all you are. I’m the police and am in charge here, not you.” He took a step past her, seeing the shock on her face as he shut her down. “Come over here, both of you,” he called out, gesturing to the counselors. “I want you to run me through what the hell is going on here, and no one leaves anything out.”