An all-news station out of Baltimore burst from my clock radio at 5:15 a.m. Trav had said he was setting his alarm for 5:30, so I went him one better. Not that I needed it. I’d awakened spontaneously about an hour before and found myself too wired to go back to sleep.
This, after all, was the day I might help trap a murderer. How many times in my life would I be able to say that?
I hopped out of bed and hit the shower, then dressed for the office in traditional slacks and blazer and shell. I didn’t know if I’d have time to return home before hours started, and I didn’t want to be late. Mondays are always wild.
I beat Trav to Morgan Park. I was sitting where I’d parked last night and sipping a container of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee when he showed up in his official sheriff’s department cruiser. I flashed my lights and he pulled beside me.
The almost-full moon and pre-dawn light lit his features as he rolled down his window. His smile was rueful.
“Norrie. Why am I not surprised to find you here?”
“You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?”
His smile faded. “You should have stayed in bed.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because her garbage can’s not out.”
The words hit like a punch.
“Not out? But—?”
“I drove past last night right after I dropped you off and the can was nowhere in sight. Her lights were out so it was plain she was asleep.”
“When was that?”
“Oh, about eleven or so.”
I relaxed. He’d been here just before me.
“She might be an early riser.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Only one way to find out.”
I climbed into his cruiser and we drove down to Alison’s trailer.
“I’ll be damned!” he said in a hushed voice. “There it is.”
Surprise, surprise.
“Never give up hope,” I said.
He looked at the trailer. “Still no sign of life. When—?”
“Don’t worry about it. Maybe she fell asleep on the couch and something woke her during the night.” I wasn’t about to tell him that I’d been that something. “On her way to the bedroom she probably realized she hadn’t put out her garbage, and so…”
Strange how things work out. Because she’d spotted her garbage can when she came to the door, she’d carried it out to the curb for me.
Trav shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter. The important thing is it’s now fair game.”
We got out and I stood by as he unhooked the bungee cord and pulled off the lid.
“It’s a long shot,” he said as he began untwisting the tie, “but we’ve got to try.”
“Do we have to do it out here?”
“Why not?”
“Well, the sun will be up in a few minutes.”
He looked around. “Good point. I’m not looking to draw a crowd, and I sure as hell don’t want to answer a bunch of questions.”
He yanked out the bag and tossed it into the trunk of the cruiser. As he went to replace the top I spotted the fliers and the cardboard box. The way it was angled, something could be under it. I reached in and pulled it up.
A jar of some kind sat in the bottom. I could see only its red plastic top.
“Trav! Look at this!”
I was about to reach in when he grabbed my arm.
“Let me.”
I watched as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves.
“Going to operate?”
“Maybe.”
He reached in and came up with the jar. I checked the label.
“Peanut butter.”
He smiled. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know yet. I’ll take you back to your car and you can follow me.”