Colgate turned to Lance. “Why are you here?”
Lance explained.
Colgate accepted the story with a slightly skeptical twist of his mouth. He turned to Tina. “Now tell me about tonight, Mrs. Knox.”
“I was supposed to be off today, but there’s a stomach virus going around. The urgent care has been swamped with vomiting kids. I was called in to work the evening shift. I don’t like to turn down extra shifts, not with the new mortgage. When I came home, the house was dark. It shouldn’t have been dark. Paul always leaves a light on for me.” Her words stumbled over each other as she recalled finding Paul’s body in the den. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m a nurse. I knew Paul couldn’t be saved. As soon as I stopped trying to bring him back, I ran upstairs to find Evan, but his bed was empty. He’s supposed to be home by ten p.m. on school nights.”
“Where was your son when you left for work?” the sheriff asked.
“He was in his room,” Tina said. “Evan’s friend Jake was picking him up at seven. They were going to the talent show at Scarlet Falls High School.”
Sheriff Colgate took a small notepad and a pen from his chest pocket and made a few notes. “I’ll need the name and number of Evan’s friend.” The sheriff poised his pen over the paper. “A list of his other friends and their phone numbers would also be helpful. We’ll call them all and see if they’ve seen Evan tonight.”
Tina reached in her pocket and pulled out her phone. “His best friend is Jake O’Reilly. He had a few other friends in Scarlet Falls, but he hasn’t seen them much since we moved. I should have thought to call Jake.” After giving the sheriff the information, she pressed the heels of both hands to her forehead.
“Yes, ma’am.” The sheriff ripped the paper from his notepad and handed it to the deputy with the command, “Start with Jake.”
“Yes, sir.” The deputy left the room.
Tina chewed on her nails, and Morgan soothed her in a low voice. Unable to sit, Lance paced. He hated being on the sidelines. He wanted to be searching the house and looking for Evan. He kept one eye on the French doors, watching activity in the hallway through the glass panes.
The medical examiner arrived, along with the crime scene techs dressed in PPEs or personal protective equipment coveralls. Harvey appeared at the door and motioned to the sheriff through the glass. Colgate went into the hall, spoke with the deputy, and then returned to the living room.
Tina’s spine snapped straight. “What have you found?”
“Please sit down, Mrs. Knox.” The sheriff angled an overstuffed chair to face her and sat.
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“Deputy Harvey just spoke with Jake O’Reilly. Jake said that he picked up Evan around seven o’clock last night and dropped him back home at approximately twelve thirty. He wasn’t sure of the exact time.”
“He was supposed to be home at ten.” Tina clasped her hands together in her lap.
The sheriff hesitated. “The medical examiner estimates that Paul was killed between midnight and one a.m.”
“So Evan was here when Paul was shot.” Tina pressed a hand to the base of her throat. Her breaths came faster, until she began to wheeze.
“We don’t know that for sure,” the sheriff said. But it seemed likely.
“You’re hyperventilating.” Morgan wrapped an arm around Tina’s shoulders. “Take a breath and hold it for a few seconds.”
“I’ll get a paper bag.” The sheriff ducked out of the room.
A few minutes later, he returned and handed Tina a brown paper bag. She put it over her nose and mouth for a minute.
“I know this news is upsetting,” the sheriff said. “We’re doing everything possible to find your son. Alerts have been sent out to every law enforcement agency in the area.”
Tina lowered the bag. Her breathing had returned to normal, though her face was still white as chalk. She clenched the paper bag in her lap.
Thunder boomed, and wind rattled the living room window.
Tina jumped. “Evan could be out there, and there’s a storm coming.”
“We’re not wasting any time. We’re going after him.” The sheriff paused. “But first, I have a few more questions for you.”
Tina’s nod was stiff.
“Do you know what kind of guns Paul owns?” the sheriff asked.
“He has a rifle for deer hunting, a shotgun, and a Glock handgun,” she said. “He kept his guns and ammunition locked in the safe in the master bedroom.”
The sheriff leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “His gun-cleaning kit was on the table in the den.”
“He does—did—little chores like that if he couldn’t sleep,” Tina said.
The sheriff hesitated. “The safe is open. The long guns are in it. We haven’t found the Glock.”
Lance tried a scenario in his head. Paul was up late. He confronted an intruder. The intruder shot him first. Evan walked in on the shooting. Maybe Evan ran away. The boy was fit and fast. He would be a difficult target in the dark. But where was he? Why hadn’t he come home or gotten help?
“What time did Paul usually go to bed?” the sheriff asked. “We’re trying to piece the timeline together.”
“He had insomnia,” Tina said. “He often stayed up late or got up in the middle of the night.”
Deputy Harvey opened the door. “Sheriff, I need to speak with you.”
The sheriff went out into the hall, closed the door behind him, and conferred with Harvey again. When Colgate returned, his face was grim. “We’ve found a cell phone on the other side of the back fence. Does this look familiar?” He held up a plastic bag. Inside was a cell phone in a black case with a wolf on the back.
“Yes!” Tina perked up. “That’s Evan’s phone.”
“Do you know your son’s password?” the sheriff asked.
Tina’s voice shook. “3-3-0-3.”
The sheriff wrote the code down and shoved his notepad and pen back into his chest pocket.
“So maybe Evan got away?” Tina searched the sheriff’s face, clearly looking for hope.
“It’s too early to draw conclusions, ma’am, but we hope so,” the sheriff said vaguely. “How well does he know the woods behind the house?”
Lance had worked with the sheriff enough to recognize his holding back tone.
“A few weeks ago, Paul took him camping out there.” Tina pointed in the general direction of the back of the house. “They’ve gone fishing a few times too. Paul was teaching Evan to shoot.”
“Can you tell me what kind of shoes and clothes he was likely wearing tonight?” the sheriff asked.
“He has a brand-new pair of black Converse sneakers,” Tina said. “When I left for work, he was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt with a direwolf’s head on the front. It says WINTER IS COMING.” She closed her eyes for a second. “Evan is a huge Game of Thrones fan. We binged six seasons when he had an emergency appendectomy over the winter.” A tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away, the gesture almost angry.
The sheriff nodded. “You hang tight, Mrs. Knox. We’re going to do everything possible to find Evan.”
But on his way out of the room, the sheriff avoided eye contact with Morgan and Lance. Behind Colgate’s carefully schooled expression, his eyes were worried.
The cops had found something they didn’t want to share with Tina.
Chapter Four
Lance followed the sheriff into the hall. He closed the door behind him. “What aren’t you telling her?”
Colgate grimaced. “This is an active investigation. You know I can’t divulge the details.”
“I’m going to find out.” Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “I will not stop until I find Evan.”
Colgate’s jaw sawed back and forth. Some cops worked with PIs. Others refused. Colgate shared only if it suited his case.
The sheriff sighed. “We would like to keep some details from the media.”
“Understood.�
��
“We found blood on the back of Evan’s phone. We also found a bloody handprint on the top of the fence in the backyard, just above where we found the phone. There are footprints in the dirt at the base of the fence as well.”
“Where someone landed after climbing the fence.”
“Yes.” Colgate frowned. “The soil is soft back there from the recent rains. The impressions are very clear. The tread has Converse written across the sole.” The sheriff brushed his hand through the wispy white hairs on his head. “We’re trying to process the outside of the house first, before the rain starts. The tech was able to pull prints from the fence. But matching them will take time, as will getting a DNA analysis on the blood.”
“And until the DNA test comes in,” Lance said, “we won’t know if Evan touched Paul and transferred his blood to the doorframe and fence, or if Evan is bleeding.”
The boy could be injured. Maybe even shot like Paul.
He was well enough to run and scale a fence, Lance reminded himself. To the sheriff, he said, “We also don’t know if the shooter went after Evan.”
“That’s right,” the sheriff agreed. “We’re going to work with the worst-case scenario—that Evan is hurt and whoever killed Paul is after him.”
“We’re running out of time if we want to follow his trail.” Lance glanced out the window at the end of the hall. Outside, tree branches swayed violently in the wind. “That storm will wash away all the tracks.”
“As much as I don’t want to, I agree.” The sheriff rubbed a hand down his face. “I called for a K-9 team from the state, but they can’t get here for two hours.”
“That’s too long to wait,” Lance insisted.
“Yes.” The sheriff propped a hand on his belt.
“Sheriff?” a young deputy called from the entryway. “There’s a man named Sharp here. He wants to talk to you.”
“Have him wait outside,” Colgate answered, then turned back to Lance. “Tell your boss that no one else gets into this scene.”
Lance nodded. “Will do.”
If Lance and Morgan hadn’t arrived before the cops, they’d both be out on the sidewalk too.
“I’d like to go on the search.” Lance held up a hand. “Before you say no, let me sum up why you should let me. First, Evan might run from your deputies. He’s been arrested before. He does not have a positive association with the police in general. Evan and I have a relationship. He trusts me. Second, Mother Nature is about to dump a ton of water on your outdoor crime scene areas. You need every available person combing the grass. Third, you can’t send SAR volunteers into those woods if there’s a possibility they will encounter an armed shooter.”
The sheriff nodded. “All right.”
The quick agreement was the last thing Lance expected.
“I want this boy brought home safe,” the sheriff said. “I don’t particularly care who finds him or how. His mother has already lost her husband. I do not want her to lose her son too. I’m fine with you going along, as long as you’re ready when the team goes in and you follow orders.”
“I’ve participated in plenty of searches.” Lance didn’t mention that he wasn’t as skilled in following orders.
The sheriff lifted a hand. “Be ready in fifteen minutes, and don’t get yourself shot or struck by lightning. The department can’t afford to get sued. If you can’t keep up, my men will not wait for you.” The sheriff walked away.
Lance wasn’t worried about keeping up. Coaching hockey—on skates—had strengthened his bad leg. He went back in the living room and relayed the situation to Morgan and Tina. “I have to run out to my Jeep for my gear.”
“Thank you,” Tina said. “I knew you’d help.”
Morgan followed him to the door. She cast a worried look out the window, where lightning flashed. A boom of thunder shook the glass panes. “You’ll be careful?”
“I will. You’ll stay with Tina?” Lance and Morgan shared a pointed look. Tina would need more than emotional support. As Paul’s spouse, she would automatically be a suspect in his death. Evan would also be on that initial list. Hopefully, early evidence would eliminate them both, but having Morgan there to protect Tina’s interests eased Lance’s mind.
“Of course.” Morgan touched the center of his chest and said in a low voice, “I love you.”
“Back atcha.” Lance gave her a quick kiss, then hurried from the room. On the way out of the house, he passed a fingerprint tech crouched next to the front door, swirling black powder onto the doorknob with a small brush.
Lance went outside. The property had been transformed into a crime scene. A young deputy stood at the bottom of the driveway. He held a clipboard on which he would be recording the name of every person who entered and exited the crime scene. A tech was setting up floodlights. The portable generator that powered them hummed. Randolph County Sheriff’s Department SUVs, the medical examiner’s van, and a county crime scene unit clogged the suburban street. Crime scene tape had been strung around the perimeter of the property. News vans lined up farther down the road.
Sharp was standing on the sidewalk. In jeans and a T-shirt, he tapped the toe of one running shoe impatiently on the concrete. Lightning flashed across the sky, blinking like a strobe light. The boom of thunder that followed was close enough to rattle Lance’s teeth.
“Follow me,” Lance called to Sharp. Then he turned and jogged toward the place he’d parked his vehicle. He threaded his way through clusters of neighborhood gawkers, dodging an older couple huddling on the sidewalk in their bathrobes. When they had broken free of the crowd, Lance filled Sharp in on the case so far.
At the back of his Jeep, Lance opened the cargo hatch and grabbed a waterproof jacket and his Go Bag, a small backpack he kept filled with emergency supplies, including protein bars, water, a first aid kit, a Mylar emergency blanket, a flashlight, and spare batteries.
A spare magazine and extra ammunition.
He grabbed his Kevlar vest. After their last case, they’d invested in body armor.
Sharp frowned. “I’d like to go on the search with you, but I don’t want to hold the team back.”
The admission had clearly hurt him. On their last big case, Sharp had suffered a serious abdominal wound. Before he’d been hurt, Sharp had been one of the fittest people Lance knew. Thanks to a green, crunchy lifestyle, his fifty-three-year-old boss had been in better shape than most twentysomethings. Given the seriousness of his injuries, his three-month recovery had been astonishing, but he wasn’t in marathon-running condition just yet, which irritated the hell out of him.
“Tonight’s search is going to be ugly,” Lance said. Lightning, thunder, and a blast of wind punctuated his statement.
“I know.”
Lance slung his backpack over one shoulder and turned back toward the house. “You’ll be running half marathons again by fall.”
“But I’m not there yet.” Sharp looked miserable, but he would never jeopardize the search. “I’ll see if I can be useful to Morgan.”
“Send her a text or call her. The sheriff doesn’t want you on scene.”
“I understand.” Sharp nodded, obviously depressed. “Text me if there are any major updates.”
“Will do.”
They separated at the bottom of the driveway. Lance headed for the sheriff’s vehicle, where the sheriff and two deputies gathered around an electronic tablet. Both deputies wore rain gear.
The sheriff motioned to Lance. “Kruger, you already know Todd Harvey.” Colgate gestured toward the other deputy, a wiry man in his late thirties. “This is Jim Rogers. Rogers is a hell of a hunter and tracker.”
“Glad to have you on board. I hear you know the boy.” Rogers extended a hand.
Lance shook it. “I do.”
The sheriff nodded at Harvey. “Todd’s in charge.”
Harvey pointed toward a satellite image of their general location displayed on the electronic tablet in his hand. Forest dominated the screen.
&nb
sp; Lance glanced at the image. “What’s on the other side of those woods?”
“A couple of roads. More woods.” Harvey moved the image. “There’s an abandoned campground to the south, at Deer Lake. To the north are farms, individual homes, and a residential development. It’s three thirty. Evan could have as much as a three-hour lead on us. Is the boy familiar with the woods?” Harvey looked to Lance.
“He’s been out there a couple of times, and he’s damned fit. Unless he’s badly injured, he’s going to be able to move faster than the average person.” Lance believed in conditioning drills on top of conditioning drills. Hockey was an exhausting sport. Fit players made a better team—and tired teenagers got into less trouble.
“We’re coordinating with patrol vehicles from the state police and neighboring townships. Normally, I’d limit the search to a six-mile radius, but I’ll expand to nine. It’s easier to tighten the scope of the search than expand it later.”
“Seems you all know what to do,” Colgate said. “Keep me updated.” The sheriff walked away.
Rogers tapped the screen and shifted the map image. “I’m worried about the Deer River. It’s already high from the rains we had last week.”
A fat drop of water landed on Lance’s head. “Won’t take much to reach flood stage.”
More rain pattered on the pavement.
“We’d better get moving.” Harvey stowed the electronic tablet in the car and grabbed his own Go Bag. He led the way around the side of the house. The neighbor’s rear yard was not fenced, and they walked through it to reach the area behind the white vinyl fence that enclosed the Knoxes’ backyard. A fifty-feet-wide swath of tall weeds and grass separated the fence from the forest. A floodlight had been set up at the base of the fence, where the two clearest footprints had been found. Under a tarp strung up to protect the area from the rain, two crime scene techs were casting the prints. Closer to the woods, two deputies searched the weedy ground with high-powered flashlights.
Secrets Never Die Page 3
