Streetlights, wide sidewalks, with a patch of grass and a row of large trees in front of each building. The mature trees would leave dark pockets at night, blocking the moonlight and streetlights. The parking lot was visible from the street, but there were enough rows of cars to provide concealment if someone was careful.
Selecting this building, choosing apartment 19, risking going upstairs—Jenna hadn’t been a random target, not if this happened inside. If it happened on the street or in the parking lot, that could be more random. Grab Jenna because she was the vulnerable one in a target-rich environment. Maybe the guy sat nearby, a van on the street, watching people come and go. Jenna walks across his line of sight and gets picked.
Right age, appearance—move when she’s near your vehicle, snatch her fast, control her ability to cry out. Or maybe just walk up next to her with a question when she moved into a shadowed area and abruptly hit her hard, knock her out, and ease her into the van. Two minutes? Three? Try not to slam the van door or drive away too quickly. A public abduction was extremely dangerous, but that would increase the adrenaline and excitement levels of such a crime.
Evie felt a growing supposition that Jenna had walked into trouble that night. Either she was grabbed on the way home, and someone else sent that text to her mom, or she came back outside for some reason and was then grabbed. If an abduction on the street or in the parking lot, Jenna wouldn’t be his first, would she . . . ?
Jenna had walked to dinner, the concert, then back to the apartment building, so the circuit of those places couldn’t be far. Evie looked at her watch. With daylight left, she decided she had time to find the restaurant and the concert venue. She checked the restaurant name and location in the files she’d stuffed into the backpack, searched for it online, got directions. She headed north on foot.
She had the list of people who were in the group that night with Jenna, would track them down so she could interview them again, this time to ask about the details. Chinese food. Jenna’s choice, or someone else in the group? The first time Jenna had been to this restaurant, or it was a place the waitstaff knew her by sight, remembered her usual order?
Evie found the restaurant in under ten minutes, studied it from across the street. An upscale place, probably an occasional destination rather than a frequent one, only when you wanted to splurge on a nice meal. They eat here, that takes maybe an hour of the evening, and then head as a group to the concert venue.
Evie looked up the Fifth Street Music Hall and was directed four blocks east. She walked that direction, finding herself mostly moving against pedestrian traffic flowing toward the college.
The Music Hall was a corner building occupying a good half of the block, tented canopies for entrances on both cross streets, a lighted marquee, the band Five Young Guys playing tonight, with the opening band, The Chili Peppers, warming up the crowd. Smoke & Fire was being promoted for Friday and Saturday nights. Evie had no idea who any of these groups were, but they must have a following sufficient to play here. Three expansive parking lots and a multistory parking garage were in sight of the building, suggesting weekends could be packed houses when a popular band was booked to appear.
Evie considered what it would have looked like that Friday night. Streets busy with cars, couples and groups streaming to the Music Hall for a concert, a lot of people milling around. The group around Jenna would have been one of many clusters merging together at the entrance. Someone could slip in behind her group, follow her inside—never be noticed, just one of the crowd. A popular concert would draw in music lovers from all over the area.
Had Jenna been a music groupie? One to hang around for an autograph? Or was she the type to enjoy the music because this was where the group wanted to go that night, then she was ready to call it an evening and get home?
Maybe she’d caught the attention of someone in the band or the crew that did the setup and teardown. “Why don’t we meet up for a drink when I get free in an hour?” Or, “The band is gathering for drinks to end the evening, why don’t you join us? Don’t tell your friends, so they don’t get jealous—it’s a private invitation. I’ll pick you up, or you can walk behind the Music Hall and meet me at the backstage door”—anything along that line would work if Jenna had stars in her eyes about a band member. Who was playing that night?
Evie tugged out the police reports, scanned them, but didn’t see the names of any bands. Who in the group had made the dinner reservations, bought the concert tickets, put this evening together? She did track down that name. Tiffany Wallace. Evie shifted folders and got lucky. Tiffany’s witness statement was in the set she had brought with her. She turned pages looking for the particulars. After the concert we headed back to campus . . . Tiffany’s statement was filled with references to the evening’s plans, the restaurant, the Music Hall location, the concert was sold out, their group came and left together, lots of people were on the street as they headed back to campus—details, but not the names of the groups playing that night. Evie flipped through other witness statements, not finding the specifics she was after.