checked out who owned the land or had access to those deer leases. According to Lucy’s statement, she’d been held in some sort of small trailer, the kind you hitch to a vehicle, the kind many people kept at their deer camp. Lucy had said the trailer hadn’t been hitched to a vehicle at the time of her escape. The trailer could havebeen anyone’s, but an officer should have at least attempted to find out if it might have belonged to someone who had reason to be on the acreage near the pickup site.
And if Jack could cross-reference that list with a list of drivers who had gray Chevrolet Caprices registered to their names eleven years ago…
Of course, the car Lucy described could have been stolen. Or maybe the perp owned the car, but had no connection to the property where he’d taken Lucy and he was just squatting there for a few days. Still, it was worth a try. This guy was local. Jack felt it in his bones.
The vehicle, the nearby property owners, the hunters—all these aspects of the case should have been checked out over a decade ago, but they weren’t. Of course, the lead in the case back then was more interested in where his next doughnut was coming from than where the killer might be hiding. Jack couldn’t change the past, but he could avoid a repeat performance. This time around, there would be no sloppy police work, no half-assed investigating. This time around, the Graingerville Police Department—all six of them—would do the job right.
“J.B.? You listening, man?”
“Sorry. What?”
The screen door screeched opened, and Fiona stepped out of the house.
“I said I got a lead on that twine from our victim. The fluorescent green that Lucy described? They used to carry it at hardware stores all over the Southwest, plus Wal-Mart.”
Lucy followed Fiona onto the porch with Vanessa on her hip again. Neither woman looked at Jack. As he watched,Fiona reached over and squeezed Lucy’s hand, and then Lucy—to Jack’s astonishment—pulled Fiona into a hug. They whispered back and forth for a moment and then stepped apart.
“So we got a break there,” Carlos was saying.
Shit. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”
“I said, you can’t get it anymore !” Carlos evidently thought Jack was having trouble hearing. “Now they only manufacture it for a few customers. Stopped mass distribution about six years ago.”
Lucy gave Jack a curt nod and went back into the house. Fiona descended the steps and waited in the yard, her back to him.
“So that narrows it down to specialty stores. Farming supplies, mostly. You can find green all over, but for this exact color, you gotta really look.”
“It’s a good lead,” Jack said, watching Fiona’s shoulders tremble in the biting wind. Why the hell hadn’t she brought a jacket?
“I’m on my way in now,” he told Carlos. “Don’t go anywhere because we need to discuss the ME’s report.”
“You got it.”
Jack disconnected and shoved his phone into his pocket. Fiona started across the path, and he had to stride to keep up with her.
“Fiona?”
She didn’t turn around. “Can we go now, please? I’m cold.”
She pushed through the gate and stood beside the pickup, gripping her art case and shivering. Jack popped the locks and opened her door for her. Not making eyecontact with him, she stowed her bag on the floor and climbed into the truck. She stared straight ahead at the windshield.
“Where’s your coat?”
“In my car.” She looked at him. “I spilled something on it earlier.”
Her nose was red, as were her cheeks and her eyes. She was crying.
Jack reached over her lap and snagged a crumpled flannel shirt from the back of the cab. He shook it out and handed it to her.
“Put this on,” he said, and closed her door.
He went around and climbed behind the wheel, reviewing the exchange he’d just seen between Lucy and Fiona. Jack didn’t know Fiona very well. He didn’t know her at all, really, except what he’d read on the
And if Jack could cross-reference that list with a list of drivers who had gray Chevrolet Caprices registered to their names eleven years ago…
Of course, the car Lucy described could have been stolen. Or maybe the perp owned the car, but had no connection to the property where he’d taken Lucy and he was just squatting there for a few days. Still, it was worth a try. This guy was local. Jack felt it in his bones.
The vehicle, the nearby property owners, the hunters—all these aspects of the case should have been checked out over a decade ago, but they weren’t. Of course, the lead in the case back then was more interested in where his next doughnut was coming from than where the killer might be hiding. Jack couldn’t change the past, but he could avoid a repeat performance. This time around, there would be no sloppy police work, no half-assed investigating. This time around, the Graingerville Police Department—all six of them—would do the job right.
“J.B.? You listening, man?”
“Sorry. What?”
The screen door screeched opened, and Fiona stepped out of the house.
“I said I got a lead on that twine from our victim. The fluorescent green that Lucy described? They used to carry it at hardware stores all over the Southwest, plus Wal-Mart.”
Lucy followed Fiona onto the porch with Vanessa on her hip again. Neither woman looked at Jack. As he watched,Fiona reached over and squeezed Lucy’s hand, and then Lucy—to Jack’s astonishment—pulled Fiona into a hug. They whispered back and forth for a moment and then stepped apart.
“So we got a break there,” Carlos was saying.
Shit. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”
“I said, you can’t get it anymore !” Carlos evidently thought Jack was having trouble hearing. “Now they only manufacture it for a few customers. Stopped mass distribution about six years ago.”
Lucy gave Jack a curt nod and went back into the house. Fiona descended the steps and waited in the yard, her back to him.
“So that narrows it down to specialty stores. Farming supplies, mostly. You can find green all over, but for this exact color, you gotta really look.”
“It’s a good lead,” Jack said, watching Fiona’s shoulders tremble in the biting wind. Why the hell hadn’t she brought a jacket?
“I’m on my way in now,” he told Carlos. “Don’t go anywhere because we need to discuss the ME’s report.”
“You got it.”
Jack disconnected and shoved his phone into his pocket. Fiona started across the path, and he had to stride to keep up with her.
“Fiona?”
She didn’t turn around. “Can we go now, please? I’m cold.”
She pushed through the gate and stood beside the pickup, gripping her art case and shivering. Jack popped the locks and opened her door for her. Not making eyecontact with him, she stowed her bag on the floor and climbed into the truck. She stared straight ahead at the windshield.
“Where’s your coat?”
“In my car.” She looked at him. “I spilled something on it earlier.”
Her nose was red, as were her cheeks and her eyes. She was crying.
Jack reached over her lap and snagged a crumpled flannel shirt from the back of the cab. He shook it out and handed it to her.
“Put this on,” he said, and closed her door.
He went around and climbed behind the wheel, reviewing the exchange he’d just seen between Lucy and Fiona. Jack didn’t know Fiona very well. He didn’t know her at all, really, except what he’d read on the
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