Detective Rockford: Part Two
Rockford heads toward the parking lot, an eerie voice in his head.
With a handshake this firm, Rockford recognized a man who was determined to put forth a confident presence that seemed uncalled for in someone who was genuinely distressed.
“Anders Stein,” he said, looking the detective straight in the eye.
“Nice to meet you, Anders. What is your relationship to the missing woman?” Rockford tossed out casually, pulling his leather-bound notebook from his inner trench pocket and pretending to look up the name he knew so intimately. “Mia Flores,” he continued.
“We were, well, dating, I guess,” Anders stumbled a bit. The shakiness felt earnest, the uncertainty of a man who was unclear where he stood. Strangely, Rockford had felt the same way recently.
“I’m Stella,” another woman stepped forward, standing between Rockford and Anders.
The detective took a step back, evaluating her eager body language as he wrote her name on the pad.
“How did you know Ms. Flores?” he asked, subtly surveying the room as Anders made space for Stella in the conversation.
“She was my best friend,” Stella began. “Well, at work,” she continued with an air of doubt.
As if to punctuate the exchange, Rockford nodded at Stella then walked toward the chair holding Mia’s purse and jacket. It took everything in him not to grab the items and return to the privacy of his car so he could go through them with a fine-toothed comb. As he turned over his shoulder to look for forensics, they emerged with their baggies and swabs.
Just as he was about to enquire about the bathroom area, a small item glimmered on the strap of her purse. It was a charm, made from a Coca-Cola bottle cap, dangling from the zipper tab. Rockford felt his heart flutter, an inner weight seizing him he had long suppressed.
In an effort to distract himself, he wrote a note in his pad and coughed back the unexpected tear with a manly throat clearing.
“Is the bathroom this way?” he asked a nearby officer.
“Yes, sir, right down this hallway,” the cop replied as he pointed.
Rockford made his way down the hall slowly, looking for anything strange or out of place. The restrooms were standard, gender-neutral singles with nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. There was, however, an exit located at the end of the short corridor.
Pushing the door open, the night air hit Rockford’s face with a crisp coolness scented with cigarettes and restaurant dumpsters. He circled the trash receptacles, hoping with every breath he didn’t find Mia sprawled behind one of them. Thankfully, she was nowhere to be found.
The door opened behind him and Anders appeared with Stella close behind.
“Her car is still here,” Anders nearly whispered in the general direction of the parking lot.
“Which one is it?” Rockford asked authoritatively.
Stella pointed to a black sedan with the interior light on. All three paused, noticing the door was slightly ajar, their collective breath caught in their throats.
Something was trapped in the door, dangling, and preventing it from closing.