side, a diamond nose stud, and various silver hoops dangling from her ears. She swirled a red Tootsie Pop in her mouth. “You’re a reporter.”
Derrick stood. “Derrick Whittaker.” He reached his hand out. She eyed it, then his face, then simply gave his hand a soft pet, rolling her fingers over it. She gyrated to the window and peered out. “Another beautiful day in paradise.” She wore a bright aqua T-shirt and tight black knee-high yoga pants that showed off her figure.
“This is my sister, Tatum,” Jenness said with a pink face.
“So … Derrick .” Tatum turned back to the small room. “What do you want to talk to my daddy about?”
“I told you—Demler-Vargus,” Jenness said.
“Since when is the Dispatch interested in Demler-Vargus?”
“Tatum, don’t start.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to help the poor guy. Save him some time.”
Jenness pursed her lips.
“They must not have a heck of a lot of faith in you.” Tatum’s mouth curled sarcastically, and she lowered her gaze at Derrick.
Derrick squinted. “Pardon me?”
Tatum laughed. “Anybody they’d send out here on this wild goose chase must be a real prize—”
“Don’t listen to her,” Jenness said. “She does this to everybody.”
Derrick was almost certain he smelled pot.
“What?” Tatum threw her hands up. “He should know what he’s getting into.”
“You’ve said enough. What he needs to know, Daddy will tell him. I’m sorry, Mr. Whittaker. It seems like that’s all I ever do is apologize for Tatum.”
“She does have my curiosity up,” Derrick said. “What do you know about Demler-Vargus, Tatum?”
“It’s just some in-family talk”—Jenness shot a glare at Tatum—“that I’m sure our father will tell you all about.”
Tatum worked her way over to Derrick. “I see you’re not married, Derrick.”
“Engaged,” he said, feeling especially uncomfortable now that Catwoman had come closer. “Jenness, can I get your dad’s cell number? I’m going to give him a quick call, make sure he’s on his way.”
He punched the number Jenness dictated and got an automated response telling him to leave a message. He walked away from the girls, toward the window. “Hey, Mr. Brinkman, this is Derrick Whittaker with the Dispatch. I’m at your house for our appointment. I waited as long as I could, but I’ve got to run. Give me a call, and we’ll set up another time, okay? Thanks.”
He clicked off and looked at his watch.
“I’m going to take off. I’ll reschedule with your dad and probably see you girls again, okay?” He handed each of them his Dispatch business card. “Anything at all about Demler-Vargus, give me a call.”
He got to the car, started it, got the heat cranking, and went through the messages on his phone. Nothing important. Then he checked Facebook and found a message from Amy’s mom:
Mr. Whittaker,
We have not had contact with Amy and are unsure of her whereabouts. Sorry we could not be of help.
Rebekah Sheets
Derrick punched in a quick response:
Mrs. Sheets,
Thank you for your prompt response. May I ask Amy’s address the last time you knew of her whereabouts? And when that would have been?
Thank you again for your help.
Derrick Whittaker
Derrick scanned the snowy neighborhood one last time in hopes of seeing Spivey Brinkman driving up, but no such luck. Jenness’s face was pressed low against one of the windows, which was half covered in condensation. She saw him looking back and waved. Derrick shot a wave as he rolled away.
That Tatum was a piece of work. What had she meant about a wild goose chase? Those girls knew something. Derrick needed to see Spivey Brinkman.
His phone rang. Cecil.
“Whittaker.”
“Where the heck are you?”
“Heading back from the east side.”
“A train derailed in Royston. I need you over there pronto. You got your camera?”
“Yeah. Where in Royston?”
“Take Highway 21 all the way. After it intersects with Bowman, go to
Derrick stood. “Derrick Whittaker.” He reached his hand out. She eyed it, then his face, then simply gave his hand a soft pet, rolling her fingers over it. She gyrated to the window and peered out. “Another beautiful day in paradise.” She wore a bright aqua T-shirt and tight black knee-high yoga pants that showed off her figure.
“This is my sister, Tatum,” Jenness said with a pink face.
“So … Derrick .” Tatum turned back to the small room. “What do you want to talk to my daddy about?”
“I told you—Demler-Vargus,” Jenness said.
“Since when is the Dispatch interested in Demler-Vargus?”
“Tatum, don’t start.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to help the poor guy. Save him some time.”
Jenness pursed her lips.
“They must not have a heck of a lot of faith in you.” Tatum’s mouth curled sarcastically, and she lowered her gaze at Derrick.
Derrick squinted. “Pardon me?”
Tatum laughed. “Anybody they’d send out here on this wild goose chase must be a real prize—”
“Don’t listen to her,” Jenness said. “She does this to everybody.”
Derrick was almost certain he smelled pot.
“What?” Tatum threw her hands up. “He should know what he’s getting into.”
“You’ve said enough. What he needs to know, Daddy will tell him. I’m sorry, Mr. Whittaker. It seems like that’s all I ever do is apologize for Tatum.”
“She does have my curiosity up,” Derrick said. “What do you know about Demler-Vargus, Tatum?”
“It’s just some in-family talk”—Jenness shot a glare at Tatum—“that I’m sure our father will tell you all about.”
Tatum worked her way over to Derrick. “I see you’re not married, Derrick.”
“Engaged,” he said, feeling especially uncomfortable now that Catwoman had come closer. “Jenness, can I get your dad’s cell number? I’m going to give him a quick call, make sure he’s on his way.”
He punched the number Jenness dictated and got an automated response telling him to leave a message. He walked away from the girls, toward the window. “Hey, Mr. Brinkman, this is Derrick Whittaker with the Dispatch. I’m at your house for our appointment. I waited as long as I could, but I’ve got to run. Give me a call, and we’ll set up another time, okay? Thanks.”
He clicked off and looked at his watch.
“I’m going to take off. I’ll reschedule with your dad and probably see you girls again, okay?” He handed each of them his Dispatch business card. “Anything at all about Demler-Vargus, give me a call.”
He got to the car, started it, got the heat cranking, and went through the messages on his phone. Nothing important. Then he checked Facebook and found a message from Amy’s mom:
Mr. Whittaker,
We have not had contact with Amy and are unsure of her whereabouts. Sorry we could not be of help.
Rebekah Sheets
Derrick punched in a quick response:
Mrs. Sheets,
Thank you for your prompt response. May I ask Amy’s address the last time you knew of her whereabouts? And when that would have been?
Thank you again for your help.
Derrick Whittaker
Derrick scanned the snowy neighborhood one last time in hopes of seeing Spivey Brinkman driving up, but no such luck. Jenness’s face was pressed low against one of the windows, which was half covered in condensation. She saw him looking back and waved. Derrick shot a wave as he rolled away.
That Tatum was a piece of work. What had she meant about a wild goose chase? Those girls knew something. Derrick needed to see Spivey Brinkman.
His phone rang. Cecil.
“Whittaker.”
“Where the heck are you?”
“Heading back from the east side.”
“A train derailed in Royston. I need you over there pronto. You got your camera?”
“Yeah. Where in Royston?”
“Take Highway 21 all the way. After it intersects with Bowman, go to
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