"Just this afternoon," Jane nodded. "She spent six hundred dollars here, then stuffed all the clothes she bought inside one of the large tote bags we sell. And then she asked if I would call a taxi for her." Jane snorted at the idea that anyone would think Cordell might have a taxi service.
"When did she leave? Do you recall?" Lawford asked.
"Around four-thirty, maybe? Two more customers came in around the same time." Jane finished folding a turquoise T and patted it into place on a display table.
"Did you see which way she went?"
"North, I think. Why do you want to know?"
"Possible runaway, ma'am," Agent Lawford's voice was flat and unemotional. "Stole her mother's credit card and slipped out of the house."
"The credit card was stolen?" Jane seemed more concerned over that than a runaway teen.
"She may be in danger," Trace added, since the agents hadn't expressed the urgency of the situation.
"I'll check with the businesses north of here and ask if they saw her," Marcus walked out the door. Derik North frowned at Marcus' retreating back.
"I'll go with Marcus," Trace figured they'd gotten all the useful information they were going to get from the dress shop owner. His and Marcus' noses might tell them more than the agents were likely to get.
"If you think of any other information, let us know," Agent Lawford handed a business card to Jane. Jane blinked, open-mouthed, as the two agents rushed out the door. Department of Homeland Security was printed plainly across the top of Nick Lawford's card.
* * *
Ren had left two hours earlier and Ashe, unable to explain the discomfort he felt, nearly jumped when his mother knocked on his bedroom door before walking inside. She hadn't been home long; it was after seven and sunset was still more than an hour away.
"Honey, that was Marcus on the phone," Ashe's blue eyes met his mother's light-brown ones and he shivered.
Ashe crawled inside the agents' van fifteen minutes later. "Ashe, Elizabeth Frasier got away from us somehow, even though we can't get any fresh scent that shows she left the house. Went straight to Cordell and bought a bunch of clothes," Trace said as Ashe buckled in and Marcus closed the door.
"I was afraid of this," Ashe murmured.
"Afraid of what?" Marcus glared at Ashe from his seat in the center of the van.
"I can turn to mist and mindspeak, and I'm like them," Ashe jerked his head toward the row of mobile homes behind his house. "It makes sense that at least some of them might be able to do those things, too."
"This is a nightmare," Marcus growled and turned to face the front again.
"You think that girl turned to mist and got out that way?" Trace asked softly.
"It makes sense; that's how I got grounded," Ashe grumped unhappily.
"It sure does," Trace settled back in his seat. "Mrs. Pruitt is helping us guard the rest of those kids while we go to the last place the girl was seen."
The last place Elizabeth Frasier was seen ended up being a gas station and convenience store on the northern edge of Cordell. Agent North had stayed behind earlier to question the employees. They'd watched Elizabeth Frasier climb into a sports car with two young men after tossing her new tote bag into the back seat.
"The car was black, but the right front fender had gray primer paint on it and it hadn't been repainted yet," the owner of the service station said. "The girl came in askin' us if we'd drive her someplace, but we're not that stupid."
"Did you recognize the boys?" Ashe, Trace and Marcus walked up as Derik North asked the question.
"Nah. Probably some kids from Clinton or Elk City." The man might have been in his mid-fifties and had worked outdoors most of his life, Ashe decided as he watched the man. His face was the weathered brown of old leather and wrinkles fanned out from the corners of hazel eyes. Ashe was as tall as the man was, but his younger employees were slightly taller and in their early twenties.
"I don't suppose you got a tag number," Agent North asked hopefully.
"Nope."
"The last part was GVU. I didn't get the numbers before that," the youngest employee said. His brown eyes appeared more worried than his elder employer's did, while his close-cropped blond hair stood up like ripe wheat in a summer field.
"Oklahoma plates?" Nick Lawford asked.
"Yeah. Car was a sixty-eight Camaro. Looked like they were restoring it." Ashe nodded at the employee's description—Sali would have noticed what the car was, too.
"Run a check," Agent Lawford jerked his head at Derik North, who walked toward their van to make the call.
"Let's look around a little," Trace steered Ashe away from the questioning. Trace would sniff his way through the business while Ashe looked. Ashe trailed Trace as he followed Elizabeth's scent, ending up outside the women's bathroom. "Ever been inside a ladies' room?" Trace grinned at Ashe.
"When I was in the third grade," Ashe nodded. "Sali shoved me inside as a joke."
"This one might be cleaner than most gas station bathrooms," Trace shouldered his way through the door without knocking. Ashe held his breath until he realized there wasn't anyone inside. Releasing the air in his lungs as a grateful sigh, Ashe began to search the restroom.
"Tag from Janie's" Ashe poked the tag with the toe of his shoe—the small paper tag was lying next to the toilet in one of two stalls.
"I think she changed clothes first, then put on makeup at the sink and probably brushed her hair, so she had her purse with her," Trace agreed, sniffing around the Formica vanity and mirror.
"Find anything?" Agent North joined them in the small bathroom. Collecting the tag and a strand of long, dark hair from the sink that Ashe and Trace pointed out, the agent placed both in evidence bags.
"We've got the local authorities and Oklahoma Highway Patrol looking for the car," Nick Lawford said as soon as Ashe, Trace and Agent North came out of the restroom. "Owner says those boys filled up and paid cash, so no credit card records to tap and no security camera, either."
"Let's take the kid home and we can start looking for ourselves," Derik North suggested to his superior.
"Sounds as good as anything else," Nick Lawford agreed. Marcus, who'd stayed with Agent Lawford, hadn't said anything during the questioning, settling for listening and observing while the others talked.
"The owner knows something he isn't giving up," Marcus slid into the same seat he'd occupied before as the others loaded up and buckled in around him.