The Disappearance of Stephanie Mailer: A gripping new thriller with a killer twist by Joël Dicker (ebook reader play store .txt) 📕

“Is this booth often used?”

“Difficult to say. There’s always a lot of coming and going. The toilets are reserved for the customers, but pretty often people come in and ask if there’s a phone. We tell them yes. But we don’t know if they really want to make a phone call or just need to take a leak. These days everyone has a cell phone, don’t they?”

Just then, as if on cue, Betsy’s cell phone rang. Stephanie’s car had been found near the beach.

*

We sped along Ocean Road, which led from Main Street to Orphea’s beach. The road ended in a parking lot consisting of a vast concrete circle, where bathers parked their cars any old how, with no time limit. In winter, there would always be a few scattered vehicles belonging to people walking on the beach, fathers flying kites with their children. It started to fill up on the fine days of spring. At the height of summer, it was besieged from early on the burning hot mornings, and the number of cars that managed to cram themselves in there was extraordinary.

About a hundred yards from the parking lot, a police car was parked at the side of the road. An officer waved to us and I drew up behind him. At this point on the road, a narrow hikers’ trail plunged into the forest.

“It was some people out walking who saw the car,” the officer told us. “Apparently, it’s been there since Tuesday. It wasn’t until they read the paper this morning that they made the connection. I checked the license number. It’s definitely Ms Mailer’s car.”

We had to walk two hundred yards to get to the car, neatly parked in a nook. It was indeed the blue Mazda caught on the cameras at the bank. I put on a pair of latex gloves and walked around it, inspecting the interior through the windows. I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Betsy finally voiced the thought that was going through my head.

“Jesse, do you think she’s in the trunk?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

The officer brought us a crowbar. I plunged it into the groove. Betsy was standing right behind me, holding her breath. The lock gave easily and the trunk snapped open. I stepped back, then leaned forward to see inside. The trunk was empty. “Nothing here,” I said, moving away from the car. “Let’s call forensics before the scene gets contaminated. This time the mayor is going to agree that we have to dig deeper.”

The discovery of Stephanie’s car did indeed change things. Mayor Brown arrived on the scene with Chief Gulliver. Recognizing that a search operation had to be launched and that the local police would soon be overwhelmed by the situation, he called on police units from the neighboring towns for backup.

In one hour, Ocean Road was blocked off, from the halfway point to the beach parking lot. Police departments from all over the county had sent officers, supported by patrols from the State Police. Groups of onlookers had gathered beyond the police tape.

On the forest side, forensics officers were moving in white jumpsuits around Stephanie’s car, going over it with a fine-toothed comb. Teams of sniffer dogs had also been dispatched.

Soon, the head of the dog team sent for us from the beach parking lot.

“All the dogs are following a single track,” he said when we had joined him. “They set off from the car and take that little path that winds through the forest and arrives here.”

He pointed to the path, which was a shortcut people out walking took to get from the beach to the hikers’ trail.

“The dogs all stop here in the parking lot. Right where I’m standing. After that, they lose the scent.”

The officer was standing literally in the middle of the parking lot.

“What does that mean?”

“That she got in a car here, Captain Rosenberg, and left in it.”

The mayor turned to me. “What do you think, Captain?”

“I think there was a car waiting for her. She’d arranged to meet someone. That person was at the Kodiak Grill, sitting at a table at the far end from where she was, watching her. When she leaves the restaurant, he calls her from the phone booth and arranges to meet her at the beach. Stephanie is worried: she’s been expecting a meeting in a public place and now she finds she has to go to the beach, which is deserted at this hour. She telephones Sean, who doesn’t answer. In the end, she decides to park her car on the forest path. Maybe to have a fallback solution. Or else to see the mystery person coming. Anyway, she locks her car, she walks down to the parking lot, and gets in her contact’s vehicle. Where was she taken? God alone knows.”

There was a chilling silence. Then Chief Gulliver, as if he was taking the measure of the situation, murmured:

“And that’s when Stephanie Mailer disappears.”

DEREK SCOTT

That evening, July 30, 1994, in Orphea, it took a while for the first of our colleagues from the squad to reach the scene, along with our commander, Major McKenna. Once we had updated them on the situation, the major took me aside.

“Derek, were you the first on the scene?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. “Jesse and I have been here for more than an hour. Being the highest-ranking officer, I had to make a few decisions. The main one was to set up roadblocks.”

“You did the right thing. Everything seems to be well in hand. Do you think you’re up to taking on this case?”

“Yes, sir. I’d be honored.”

I sensed a hesitation on his part. “This would be your first big case,” he said, “and Jesse is still an inexperienced inspector.”

“Rosenberg has good instincts as a police officer,” I assured him. “Trust us, sir. We won’t disappoint you.”

After a moment’s reflection, he agreed. “I want to give you a chance. I like you and Jesse. Don’t fuck up.