ABBY WALKED AROUND the car, all the while noting her surroundings. There was no one in sight, yet all four tires had obviously been slashed. She could see the damage to the sidewalls. Was this the work of the boys? She doubted that. They had left in the other direction. Perplexed, she took out her phone and called AAA for a tow. After a long wait that only caused her anger to simmer, they told her it would be forty minutes before a truck could get there.

She put the phone away and leaned against the car, glad that the day was a comfortable temperature. But she was thirsty and her stomach growled with hunger. Anger at the tire slasher gave way to anger at herself.

I never should have come out here by myself, she thought. This really could have gone bad —way worse than four flat tires. The bleak, deserted landscape served to heighten her angst. Was this because of the Ciara case? Was Alyssa responsible? Or was it something random?

She heard the car about the same time she saw the dust cloud approaching. There was a light bar on the roof, Abby saw that much, so she knew it was a patrol car. She stood up to greet the approaching law enforcement officer, her eagerness turning to caution when the car pulled to a stop and she saw that it wasn’t a sheriff’s vehicle. It was a Morro Bay police car, and J. P. Winnen was behind the wheel.

Tense now, Abby folded her arms and waited while he parked and got out of the car.

“Run into some trouble, Detective Hart?” he asked as he walked toward her, hooking his thumbs in his belt. It wasn’t a smirk on his face, but it was close.

“I’d report this,” Abby said, “but you’re a long way out of your jurisdiction.”

“Any suspect info?”

“No.”

“Then I doubt the sheriff’s department will be able to help either.”

“You obviously came looking for me, Officer Winnen. What is it you want?”

“I was just curious as to what a bunch of human debris living in a homeless camp had to do with Ciara’s murder.”

“That information is available on a need-to-know basis, and you don’t need to know.”

She saw the muscle jump in his jaw as his features clouded with anger, and she wondered at the wisdom of antagonizing him out here in the middle of nowhere. But she was equally angry and didn’t like the feeling of being watched or followed.

He brought a hand up to his face and looked away for a moment before turning back, eyes narrowed. “What is your problem? I did a little research on you and your team. Out-of-towners and FBI —it would show good sense to be on positive terms with local law enforcement.”

Barely contained anger from the man.

“We are on good terms with San Luis Obispo PD. And the only problem I have is that Ciara’s case has gone cold and a murderer is still out there free.” She gestured toward his patrol car. “I also have an issue with someone following me.”

He spit off to the right. “I found you because the deputy you talked to at the station is a friend of mine. He said you were interested in the homeless. Again, what does the homeless camp have to do with Ciara?”

“That’s none of your business.”

His face turned red. “You’d better be careful. Today it’s flat tires; tomorrow it could be something worse.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Warning. This is my home field, not yours.” He spun on his heel and stomped back to his patrol car.

A few minutes later Abby watched his dust cloud recede and tried to make sense of the visit from a man she was quickly moving to the top of her suspect list.