Evan shook his head, his face dead serious. “You can’t let that happen. He’ll never have any friends.”
Truman turned his attention back to the Explorer. “The closest home is a couple of miles away, and this road isn’t used much except by locals. One of them called me. He was positive the vehicle wasn’t here when he drove by this morning. I saw the gas tank wasn’t empty. So unless there was an engine issue, someone deliberately dumped it today.”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” said Noelle. “Someone must have picked up the driver.”
“He could have hitchhiked,” said Evan. “But that’s awfully risky when you’re abandoning the vehicle of a murder victim. Most likely he had an accomplice of some sort.”
“I read about the owner’s shooting,” said Truman. “Frankly, it sounded like an assassination. How many days ago was that?”
“Three,” said Evan. “And it looked like an assassination too. But I haven’t found anyone who will say a bad word against the victim. He was liked by everyone.”
“I never believe that when I hear it,” said Noelle. “It just takes one angry person.”
“Do you remember Rowan Wolff?” Evan asked the police chief. “The search—”
“And rescue canine handler. Hell yes, I remember her. She saved Mercy’s life. I’ll never forget.”
“The victim was a good friend of hers. Almost like an uncle. They were very close.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Truman watched the forensic tech move to the other side of the vehicle. “I checked all the doors,” he told Noelle and Evan. “Locked. Whoever stole it made a big mess inside.” He moved to a window and shined his flashlight on the floor of the back seat. It was covered in fast-food wrappers and bags.
“The mess could have been left by the owner,” said Evan. Beside him Noelle ran her flashlight over the back seat and then moved to look in the cargo area.
“Lotta crap back here too,” she said. “I wish it wasn’t locked. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get in.”
Evan was impatient too.
Truman gave him a side-eye. “How bad do you want in tonight?”
“You have no idea.”
“Have you finished processing the outside?” Truman asked the tech.
“Yes,” said the young woman. “I’ll wait around until the tow truck gets here. We’ll do the inside back at the department.”
Truman strode to his vehicle and opened the back.
“Is he getting what I think he is?” Noelle murmured to Evan.
The police chief returned, a thin piece of metal in his hand.
“Yep,” said Evan. He gestured at the tech. “Can you film this?”
The tech immediately understood the situation. “On it.”
Without a key, the Explorer would eventually be opened by unconventional means. Evan had no problem with its being done in the field, but he wanted every second documented in case the procedure was challenged down the road.
The chief waited impatiently until the tech gave him the go-ahead, and then he slid the metal piece down into one of the doors before jerking it up and down.
“Photograph everything inside,” Evan told the tech. “We can poke around, but try not to move much,” he said to Noelle.
“I got it!” Truman said. He carefully opened the front passenger door with a gloved finger as the forensic tech filmed. She moved to the open door and started recording the interior.
“Thanks,” Evan told Truman. “That never works for me.”
Truman shrugged. “I lived in California,” he said with a wink.
“So did I,” said Noelle. “I can’t do that.”
“Then you didn’t hang around the right people,” said Truman. The tech unlocked the rest of the doors and continued to record. Truman waved an arm at the interior. “All yours,” he told the detectives.
Evan covered every inch of the front passenger area with his flashlight. The seat was covered with black dog hair. He peered in the door pocket and then under the seat, occasionally turning over a crumpled receipt or food wrapper with his pen. There were scattered dog kibble, straw wrappers, and several pens. He opened the glove box. It was crammed with papers and manuals.
“We better wait on that stuff,” Noelle said. “Have forensics go through it first.”
Evan agreed. He popped open the storage between the seats. Apparently it’d been used as recycling storage for soda cans. Either Ken or his killer liked Mountain Dew. Most likely Ken. The murderer would have thrown the cans on the floor, not saved them to recycle.
Noelle was searching the driver’s side. She pulled a folded newspaper out of the pocket in the door.
“What’s the date?” asked Evan.
“Yesterday,” she said, setting the paper on the seat. “So we know our guy definitely handled this. Fingerprints will be tough to lift but not totally impossible. I’ve seen it done.” She shined her flashlight in the door pocket, then returned to the newspaper and flipped it over, and her gaze locked on a photo.
Evan leaned closer to look. The paper had been folded to show an article and photo on page five.
The headline was about Geoff Jensen’s murder of his wife, Summer. Evan’s murder case where Thor had found the five-year-old boy hiding in a bedroom nightstand. It’d been a week since the murder, and the article appeared to be a rehash of old news with a few bits thrown in about the family’s history along with some new photos. The largest image was of Rowan and Thor in front of the Jensens’ home. She was on one knee, speaking to Thor, whose ears indicated he was hanging on every word. The photo’s caption identified the pair and stated their role in the discovery of Wyatt Jensen. Geoff Jensen was visible in the background, sitting in the back of a car with a cop speaking to him. Evan knew it had been taken before the boy was found.
“The paper is deliberately folded to see this photo,” said Noelle. “The other accompanying photos are hidden by the fold. Same with two-thirds of the article. Look.” She carefully opened the paper, demonstrating how someone had made awkward folds to center the photo.
Evan stared at the photo, his mind racing with possibilities. Most of them negative. “Why . . . ?” He met Noelle’s gaze. Her expression told him she was struggling to understand too.
“It could be nothing,” she said, but her eyes didn’t agree with her words.
“Let’s go through the rest.” Evan moved to a rear door to examine the debris in the back seat. Crumpled receipts told them the fast-food bags were Ken’s. In the cargo space, they found SAR equipment and dog supplies.
“This is expensive equipment,” said Noelle. “Why didn’t they . . . or he . . . take it?”
“Money wasn’t the goal,” said Evan.
“What was the goal?”
“Beats me.”
“If the date on that paper was older, I wouldn’t be surprised to find it folded that way, considering Ken’s relationship with Rowan,” said Noelle.
Evan had had the same thought. “Whoever was in here knows her. I can’t believe someone would randomly highlight that photo without knowing her.”
“Agreed.” Noelle looked at him.
Frustration rolled through Evan as he remembered how Rowan was linked to several of his cases. Now she was tied to Ken’s missing SUV.
Why are there so many connections to Rowan?
23