There were no more calls, but Regan felt they had far more information than they could have hoped for. Lucas wrapped up the podcast and signed off, and Regan then said, “My dad left me a message. I’m going to call him back, then I’m happy to drive you home when you’re done editing.”
She left Lucas and Lizzy to do their thing, and she stepped into the hall and called her father. “You texted me. We just finished. Did you listen?”
“Yes. That was powerful stuff. The information about the truck—it sounds exactly like Willa March.”
“I didn’t know you knew her.”
“Met her a few times at community events, you know all the things I was forced to do when I was sheriff that I detested.”
“That you secretly enjoyed.”
“We have different recollections. Anyway, yes, I can see her avoiding getting the police involved, and so the story sounds legit to me. She has a solid reputation. But that’s not why I called. I may have found why Lucas is so involved with this case.”
“Oh?”
“His high-school girlfriend’s older sister, you mentioned her at the beginning of the podcast. Adele Overton.”
“Yes. He said she went missing while driving home from NAU, to Phoenix, during winter break six years ago.” She paused, did the math. “That would make her the same age as Candace.”
“Yes, it would. They were in the same class.”
“Do you have something on that case?” Regan had been happy that Lucas had finally come clean about his real motivation. It made sense to her, and having that weight off her mind—that he wasn’t hiding something important—helped her focus on the podcast tonight.
“I have more of the story. Adele was reported missing by her parents to campus police the day after she was supposed to have arrived home for winter break and her parents couldn’t reach her. When it was determined she wasn’t in her dorm, the state troopers put out a statewide alert for her vehicle along with her description, and the next day her car was found in New Mexico, outside Gallup near Red Rock Park. There was a small amount of blood in the trunk matching Adele’s blood type. Her blood was also found on the steering wheel. They believed she was the victim of foul play. There was front-end damage to the car, but no broken glass in the area where her car was found. And there were no prints in the car, no witnesses, no cameras, and her body was never found. Her roommate had already left campus because her finals were early, so no one can say for certain what time she left.”
Gallup was not on the road to Phoenix.
“Do you know why she was in Gallup?”
“No. The troopers made an educated guess that someone intentionally caused an accident for the purpose of hurting her.”
He didn’t have to explain what could have happened to Adele.
“Do you have anything else?” Regan asked.
“Campus police have a report. I only have the troopers’ report. You can read it when you get here. The case was turned over to the FBI as a possible kidnapping across state lines, but New Mexico troopers were taking the lead because her car was found there.”
She wondered if she could get the campus-police report tonight. Because now, again, she wondered if Lucas had told her everything he knew.
Regan made a stop at the campus-police office and suggested Lucas stay in the car. Though the administrative office was closed, they had officers on duty 24/7. Friday and Saturday nights were their busiest.
The door was locked, but she rang a bell and was buzzed in. The desk sergeant asked, “How can I help you?”
“I’m Regan Merritt, an alumna and former US Marshal. I’m looking for a report your office wrote up about a student who disappeared after leaving campus for winter break six years ago. An Adele Overton, a freshman who didn’t make it home.”
“You’re not the first person who has asked for that report, and I remember it. Tragic. I’ve been here for fifteen years.”
“And they have you working nights and weekends?”
He smiled. “My son is in high school. He plays baseball, and his games are always during the week. I’d rather give up my weekends than miss even one of his games.”
Regan’s chest tightened thinking about how much her son had loved baseball. She had missed too many of his games because of work or had had to observe from the parking lot because she was in full uniform and on call and didn’t want to disturb people in the stands. Taking a thirty-minute break to watch, feeling lucky if she saw the little guy at bat. It was time she would never get back and the greatest regret of her life.
Because he was gone.
She said, “You’re a good dad. I’m looking at the Overton case—a fresh pair of eyes, so to speak, and I can write out a formal FOIA request but was hoping to just take a look at the file.”
“It’s public information. I have no problem sharing it with you.” He typed on the computer. “Everything is digital now. Pain in the ass when you type as slow as molasses, but really nice when you want to print out a report. Can you hold tight a minute?” he asked as he stood.
“Of course.”
The sergeant left his desk and went into another room. A moment later, he returned with a printout of the report. “I need you to fill out and sign this form, so we have a record.” He pushed a clipboard toward her.
She wrote her name, address, and purpose for her request, then signed.
“Merritt—your dad wouldn’t by chance be Sheriff Merritt?”
“He would.”
“Thought the name was familiar.”
“Do you have a record of who else pulled this report?”
“Sure.” He sat back down at his computer and typed. A moment later he said, “Three people. The troopers pulled it from their system, a lawyer in Phoenix—that was probably for the family. And a criminology student.”
She didn’t have to ask who, but she did anyway.
“Name?”
“Lucas Vega.”
“Do you know when he asked for the report?”
Click, click. “Three and a half years ago. First-year student, stated it was for a class.”