Mercer said to me when I opened the door of Coop’s apartment to let him in. It was about an hour after I left Jake at his hotel. Mercer had been working an evening tour but took off early when I told him Coop was gone. “That’s better than how I feel. I didn’t take this seriously till—” “Nobody did. Vickee’s been tearing her hair out,” he said, tossing his iPad on the sofa. “Where do we start?” “Call in every chit we’ve got,” I said. “Get TARU working on her phone and e-mail. Use a contact at the Taxi and Limo Commission to track the car services to see if anyone picked her up. Check whether traffic has video cameras on Second Avenue that might have caught her leaving Primola.” “We do all those things ourselves starting right now,” Mercer said. “But who do we tell?” I looked at him like he was crazy. “Tell?
