There was only one other customer at the cafe, a white-haired man enjoying a BLT as he read a newspaper—a real paper newspaper. No screens in sight. The sight made Nick feel as if he’d stepped into an Edward Hopper painting.
“Your parents convinced Megan to go camping,” Lucy told him as they waited for their meals.
“Camping camping? Or a hike that ends up at a day spa?”
“Actual tent and sleeping bag camping. She said she wanted to see the places you went when you were growing up. Your photos inspired her.”
“Maybe she’ll have fun—like she did when she was little. Remember that trip when she was what, three?”
“It stormed so hard half the mountain slid down past our tent.”
“But you showed her how to make little clay pots with the mud and cooked them in the fire. Then we zipped the sleeping bags together and we all cuddled inside the tent.” Megan still had that tiny lop-sided reddish clay pot sitting on her bookcase alongside her Kempo and shooting trophies.
Lucy smiled. “I remember. And that night after the storm passed, we sat up counting shooting stars and making wishes.”
“It felt like we were the only people in the universe.” He reached for her hand. “We’ve been blessed with so many of those perfect moments. More than most.”
She ducked her head, unable to meet his eyes. But she couldn’t hide her thoughts, not from him. Because for every perfect moment, there’d been just as many harrowing moments with her family worrying about her. The price of her doing her job—a price he and Megan paid.
“You heard Bill’s messages.” She changed the subject, although not really. “Do you really think that was a man getting ready to kill himself?”
Their food arrived—a salad with grilled chicken for him, a buffalo burger for her—saving him from answering right away. “I’m not sure. That case from back in Denver, the victim who committed suicide, sounded like it really threw him. And this obsession with uncovering a possible serial killer—”
“Obsession?” Lucy jerked her chin up. “You think he truly was obsessed? Maybe even delusional?”
Nick chose his words carefully. “You know I can’t diagnose anyone with the scraps of information we have, but he definitely sounded driven.”
“Gus said he and Bill met several times to discuss what Gus remembered of those old cases. He was skeptical at first, but by the end, he believed Bill. That there was something more going on.”
A lonely, bored old man anxious to be involved in some drama, was Nick’s first thought. But that was the problem—first impressions were all he had to go on. Except… “Let’s start with the Bill we know. He talked to you about his cases back in Denver. Did he ever seem obsessive with them? Likely to let his imagination carry him to extremes?”
“Like convinced there’s a serial killer hiding in plain sight in rural Idaho?” She took a bite of her burger—it was so thick, she had to mash it down to fit into her mouth. She chewed slowly and thought. “No. If anything, I’m more the type to run off chasing a theory, getting obsessed, than Bill ever was. He’s cautious, painstaking, and meticulous the way he builds his cases, double-checking every piece of data.”
“Let’s assume he hasn’t changed since we saw him last. Does what you saw in his home office jive with the investigator you just described?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, no doubt imagining the chaos of Bill’s office. “Yes,” she finally said, her expression clearing for the first time since they’d arrived. “I know it looked jumbled and unorganized, but he saw a pattern there. But I think he wasn’t certain, which is why he was running down every bit of information. Talking to people like Gus who were around during the killings. Reviewing the coroners’ reports and lab results.” She met his gaze head on. “Nick, he wasn’t obsessed or delusional. He was slowly, painstakingly working a case.”
“Okay, so where do we go from here?”
“His laptop was missing from his home office—Deena thought he either had it with him in the Jeep or had left it at the sheriff’s station.” She took another bite, staring out the window across the empty street to the old bank building that housed the Magruder County government offices. “Maybe he also had written case notes—Bill was old school like that.”
“You want to search his office at the sheriff’s station?”
Her grin was the first true smile he’d seen since they’d left Pittsburgh. “Do you feel like providing a diversion?”
How could he say no?
Once they’d finished eating, they wandered over to the sheriff’s office. Which was also the county clerk’s office, the post office, and the county-wide dispatcher’s office for first responders. The lobby still resembled the bank the offices had displaced, with a waiting area separated from the work area behind the former tellers’ counter.
Only one person was there—Harriet, the older woman who had helped to coordinate the search yesterday. A bell chimed as the door closed behind them, and Harriet turned from a wall-sized map where she was pasting colored sticky notes. Radio chatter from the search served as background noise. Her smile of welcome froze and died when she saw Lucy. The two women had definitely not gotten along yesterday when Lucy tried to convince Harriet to add her to a search party—and Harriet now bristled.
“FBI or not, I’m not sending you out with a team,” she said, before Lucy could even offer a greeting.
“Actually, Deena sent us,” Nick said, leaning across the counter with its postal meter, pay station, and computer. “She asked if we could gather up a few of Bill’s personal items from his office.”
“Just a few photos and the like,” Lucy added, staying behind Nick.
“Not that she’s expecting the worst,” Nick hastened to add. “But if she has to go on TV and make a public appeal—”
Harriet nodded at that, her eyes wide with the thought of TV crews here in quiet Poet Springs. “Sure, I get that.”
The phone rang and Harriet turned to get it. “911, what’s your emergency?” She listened. “No. Walter, I don’t care how inconvenient it is, I’m not sending the fire department all the way out to your place to climb up your roof and adjust your satellite for you. I don’t care if you are missing Judge Judy, we’ve got real emergencies going on around here.”
Lucy made a swooshing “Relax, I got it” gesture and pushed through the swinging gate at the end of the counter. She passed the desks to Bill’s office in the corner behind Harriet.
“No, we haven’t found him yet.” Harriet followed Lucy’s progress with a frown but then pulled her focus back to the phone. “I know, it’s been too long. I’ll add your prayers to the list. Now don’t you go climbing up there by yourself, you’ll fall and break a hip for sure. Once the search teams are done for the day, I’ll send Campbell out. You’re welcome.” She hung up.
“Wow, you really do do it all around here,” Nick said. He nodded at the gate, and Harriet smiled her permission. He joined her at the map, conveniently keeping her back to Bill’s office. “What do all these notes mean?”
“These are sectors where we’ve done hasty searches.” She pointed to the pink slips of paper. “These we’ve finished more in-depth grid searches.” There were considerably fewer of the yellow notes. “And these,” she indicated a variety of thumbtacks, “are reported sightings—none of which have checked out. Folks just want to get involved, feel useful, I guess.”
The phone rang again. “911—” She paused. “No, this is the right number. Doc Judith is busy helping with the search, so she’s forwarded all her calls here. Is it an emergency?” She leaned over her desk, scribbling on a notepad. “You have the semen and want to schedule—oh, not until next week? Okay, I’ll pass the message on, but give her time to get back to you, right now she’s got a lot on her plate.” She shook her head. “Some folks think more of their animals than they do their own neighbors.”
“Judith is pretty amazing,” Nick said. “Running her practice, which obviously takes her all over—”
“You should see her come calving season, zipping all over in that little plane of hers.”
“Plus being county coroner and now acting sheriff.”
“Don’t forget running that motel her husband saddled her with.” She shook her head in regret. “That damn thing’s a money pit. The poor woman will never be free of it. Don’t know what he was thinking.”
From the light in her eyes, he’d found a topic that would hold her interest. “She told us about her husband’s death.”
“Such a shame. They’d only been here a few years, but he seemed like a nice man. He just doted on Judith—got her that plane and flying lessons, outfitted her vet clinic with all the latest equipment. The only thing they disagreed on was the motel. She hates it, hates the zoo, hates living there. But he loved it all. Couldn’t see how it was never going to turn into the fancy resort he dreamed it could be.”
Behind Harriet, Lucy waved at Nick to keep the conversation going. He felt like he was grasping at straws as he said, “And it was one of his own snakes that bit him?”
“He was the only one who’d go near those snakes. He didn’t even let Judith touch them. I don’t see the appeal, myself. We got enough snakes to worry about around here without putting them on display.”
Nick remembered the question that had snagged his curiosity earlier back at the motel. “But I noticed he didn’t have any local snakes. You guys have several varieties of rattlesnakes, but he didn’t keep any in his collection.”
“Really? I never thought of that. I guess you’re right. But he didn’t actually collect any of those snakes. Not by himself. He bought them online. I know because I had to sign for them when they arrived, being postmistress and all.”
“This might sound funny, but you wouldn’t happen to have those records? Could I maybe get a look?”
“Why? You think someone sent him the wrong snake?”
“Something like that.”
“But it was so long ago, and they’re all dead. What does it matter?”
Nick gave her his most charming smile. “Guess it doesn’t. I was just curious, is all.”
She shrugged. “I got nothing else to do, with everyone gone on the search. It’s all computer nowadays, so let me see.” She tapped a few keys and looked up. “Hey, that was easier than I thought. Here you go. Seven snakes, all accounted for.”
Nick pivoted to see the screen, holding his phone to grab a few quick shots of it. The snakes were listed by their scientific genus and species; he’d need to look them up to find their common names. When he was a kid, he’d briefly been interested in snakes, until a near-miss encounter with a timber rattler had squelched his curiosity. But none of these names looked familiar.
Lucy returned from Bill’s office, holding a photo of him in his sheriff’s uniform. “Is it okay if we take this?”
“Sure.” Harriet looked from Lucy to Nick, suspicion narrowing her eyes. “You’re taking that to Deena?”
“If she needs it. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Lucy turned to the map, her finger tracing the quadrants south and west of the search perimeter. “How come some of these areas have a sticky note on them? Does that mean they’ve been cleared even though the search has shifted to the east?”
Harriet stepped forward and squinted at the areas. “I didn’t put those up. Must’ve been Gleason or one of the team leaders. I guess maybe folks covered those before Bill sent that text.”
“Is there anything interesting in those sectors?”
“Same as anywhere else around here. A few good huckleberry picking sites is all I can think of.”
Lucy frowned at that, doubtful.
Nick took Lucy’s arm and led her to the door. “Thanks, Harriet. You’re a gem.”
“I don’t know what you two are up to, but if it finds Bill, I’m glad to have helped.” The phone rang again, but before she answered it, she said, “Just don’t go running off anywhere without calling in to me first. The last thing we need around here is two more city slickers lost.”