Chapter 10
The deputy watched the video twice on the diner manager's phone.
We stood back at the substation counter while he held it under the desk lamp. The older man stood beside me with his hands in his pockets. I could hear his breathing.
10:42 p.m. Hargrove's truck reversed into his driveway. He got out and pulled a rolled rug from the passenger side. It sagged in the middle when he carried it. He dragged it to the garage side door and it caught on the frame before he forced it through. The light inside the garage went on, then off.
"That's probable cause," the deputy said. He looked at me. "You two stay on the sidewalk. You don't talk. You don't point. You let me knock. Understand?"
I nodded. The older man said, "We understand."
We rode behind the patrol car. The deputy didn't use lights. Hargrove's house was second from the corner, a one-story with a chain-link fence and a driveway that sloped to a detached garage. It was almost midnight and the street was dark except for a single porch light.
The deputy parked at the curb and waved us to the sidewalk. "Right here. Stay here."
The concrete was cold through my shoes. The older man put his hand on my shoulder and didn't move it. The deputy walked up the three concrete steps to Hargrove's front door and knocked hard.
It took a long time. A light came on inside. Hargrove opened the door in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants. He didn't look surprised at first, just annoyed.
"Mr. Hargrove? Deputy Raines. Need to ask you about last night. You move a rug into your garage around ten forty-two?"
Hargrove blinked. His eyes flicked to us on the sidewalk, then back. "My rug. Yeah. Why?"
"Can we take a look in the garage?"
"No," Hargrove said quickly. "That's my property. You got a warrant? You can't come in without a warrant."
The deputy kept his voice level. "Someone reported a woman may have been moved in that rug. I just need to confirm she's not inside."
"That's crazy. Nobody's in there. It's a rug I was storing. It's mine," Hargrove said. He stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door partway shut behind him. "You need a warrant."
From where we stood I could see past the house to the garage side door. A thin line of yellow light showed under it. I hadn't noticed it before. It hummed faintly.
Then I heard it. A cough. Soft, from inside the garage. Muffled, like someone trying to be quiet and failing.
My whole body jerked forward. The older man's hand tightened on my shoulder. I looked up at him and his face had gone pale. I opened my mouth.
The deputy lifted his left hand toward us, palm out, without looking back. Stay silent. He tilted his head slightly.
We all stood there for two breaths. The crickets were loud.
Another cough. Clearer this time. Short and dry.
The deputy heard it too. His shoulders shifted. He stepped back half a step on the porch and keyed his radio.
"Dispatch, this is Raines at 418 Elm. I have audible sign of a person inside a detached garage. Need supervisor and expedited search warrant, possible kidnapping in progress. One male subject detained on porch."
Hargrove's face changed. "Wait. That's — that's my heater. That's pipes. You can't—"
"Sir, step away from the door and stay on the porch," the deputy said. He wasn't loud. He put his hand near his belt. "Do not go toward the garage."
Hargrove didn't move at first. Then he looked back at that line of light under the garage door. He wiped his mouth with his hand. He sat down hard on the top step of the porch like his legs gave out.
The deputy walked back to us, keeping Hargrove in his view. He spoke low. "You heard that. I heard that. We're not going in until the judge signs. But nobody goes in or out of that garage now. You two stay right here on the sidewalk, you understand? She's alive in there."
I nodded. My throat was so tight I couldn't answer. The older man said, "Thank you," and his voice broke.
The radio crackled. The supervisor said he was three minutes out and the on-call judge was being woken up. The deputy strung yellow tape from the fence post to the corner of the garage, not touching the door. He stood in the driveway between Hargrove and the garage, arms crossed, watching the light under the door.
May you like
We stood on the sidewalk under the streetlight. I kept staring at that line of yellow light on the concrete. I listened for another cough. I didn't hear one, but I kept breathing shallow so I wouldn't miss it.
Hargrove sat on his porch with his head in his hands. The garage stayed locked.
