My evening plans had been to have dinner with Ellmann, grab Dix and take him to the pokey, then drop in on Danielle Dillon’s grandmother where I would discover some clue as to her current location. The only part that had gone according to plan was dinner. After Ellmann and I left Priscilla standing on the sidewalk outside Starbucks, he walked me to my truck and I drove home. I stripped my clothes off in the doorway and deposited them in the garbage can. After a shower, in which I scrubbed and washed everything twice, I found clean clothes and set out again.
If I’d had more time, I would have called it a day and picked up the search tomorrow. As it was, I’d already lost most of the day and had nothing to show for it. And I still believed Grandma would be the key I needed.
I had the sides of the top up on the Scout, and I cranked the music as I drove. I sang along with every song I knew, and some I didn’t. I didn’t want time to think. I knew if I had it, I’d compare myself to Priscilla. Really, I know there is no comparison. I mean, this is me I’m talking about here. And her. No comparison. But that didn’t stop me from comparing us all the same. And comparing us made me feel bad. I didn’t have time to feel bad. I had things to do.