Between Jo and the FBI, they’d sat through countless hours of airport security cameras out of Eugene and come up empty-handed. The man either disguised himself as a woman, which wouldn’t have been all that easy with the body scans and pat downs, or he didn’t bother with the airport at all.
The rental car company had been given the same information that Miss Gina had received when booking Mr. Lewis’s room. The car had been returned at the airport rental location, and by the time they’d tracked it down, it had already been released to another customer.
The room he’d used at the inn had a forensics team dissecting it for the better part of twelve hours. It was apparent that some surfaces had been wiped down before Mr. Lewis left the inn. Because he’d taken time to do that simple task, Agent Burton and Jo were convinced he’d had a prior that put him in the database. They both agreed that Mr. Lewis had used the back stairs from the kitchen up into his room unnoticed, and the front stairs when he faked concern for Hope’s disappearance. An unusual amount of dirt was found on the back staircase, laying evidence to their claim, along with a couple of prints that partially matched those in his room. They just needed a break from the many prints they’d lifted to get the man’s real name.
So far, the only print that lifted clean and had a match was Zane’s. And it had come from the kitchen, where he’d been in and out the night of Zoe’s going-away party.
Jo was clicking through mug shot after mug shot when she was told she had a visitor waiting to speak to her.
Instead of inviting them into her office, Jo left her desk and came to the front of the station.
Her clerk offered the briefest of introductions. “Sheriff, this is Ms. Pensky.”
Jo’s first thought was Doesn’t that hairstyle hurt? From the pinched face, she imagined it did.
“How can I be of assistance, Ms. Pensky?”
The woman tapped a card she had been holding and handed it over. “I’m with Child Protective Services, investigating a case I believe you’re familiar with.”
Jo glanced at the card briefly and hid all the emotion from her face. Much as she’d love to tell the woman to leave, she didn’t think that would bode well for Mel and Hope. “Perhaps we should talk in my office.”
Ms. Pensky followed her inside and sat on the very edge of the seat.
“I don’t think this will take long,” Ms. Pensky told her.
The woman stared at her for a long minute before continuing. “I’m investigating the welfare and living conditions of Hope Bartlett.”
One of the things Jo had learned in the academy, and from her father, was the art of silence when she truly wanted information. “Oh?”
“A complaint came through our office stating that she’s in physical danger in her current living situation.”
Oh, Nathan . . . when I get my hands on you.
“That’s absurd.”
Ms. Pensky had a flatline smile. “How can you say that? Aren’t you searching for a recent guest of the inn in which Hope lives?”
“I am. So is the FBI.”
“Didn’t the man walk in, ask for a room, sleep under the same roof as Hope Bartlett, yet no one knows who he is?”
Jo felt herself being led down a rabbit hole. It was time to hide behind the law.
“The details of the investigation are not for public knowledge.”
Ms. Pensky did that staring thing.
Jo matched her.
“Are you not personal friends with Melanie Bartlett?”
“I am.”
“Has Hope ever slept in your home, Sheriff?”
“Why do you ask?”
Ms. Pensky let her eyes sweep up and down Jo’s frame. “Do you leave your weapons at the station when you go home, Sheriff?”
Jo’s back teeth started to hurt for all the grinding she was putting them through. “You’re wasting your time, Ms. Pensky.” She stood and indicated that Ms. Pensky do the same.
“One more thing, Sheriff. Did you recently respond to a disturbance call at R&B’s?”
Jo pulled a slow breath, replied with a hiss she wished she could control. “Yes.”
“And did you not bring into your station Wyatt Gibson, Ms. Bartlett’s current lover? The man she was with the night before Hope’s disappearance?”
“Mr. Gibson wasn’t charged with anything.”
“But he was involved in a bar fight, was he not? Indicating a propensity for violence. Something the office of Child Protective Services is very interested in since he is in close contact with that poor child.”
“Wyatt Gibson is a well respected and law-abiding citizen of River Bend, Ms. Pensky. You won’t find one person in this town who will disagree with me.”
Ms. Pensky stood and cracked the line of her lips with a sneer. “I do believe you might be a little too close to the victim’s mother to be objective, Sheriff.”
“It’s a small town, Ms. Pensky. I’ve known most of the residents all of my life. Safe to say I’m close to all of them. That doesn’t stop me from doing my job.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” She dripped with insincerity.
Jo followed her out.
Her clerk offered a smile and instantly dropped it when she noticed Jo’s pained expression.
They’d just about made it out the door when Ms. Pensky fired her last shot. “Oh, Sheriff, one more thing.”