I looked over the files Polly had laid out in front of me. “Open the office at the regular time, and continue as you normally would.”
“But there has to be more I can do. Maybe I could—”
“No. There might be someone watching. We want to give the impression that we have things under control. Okay?”
“I guess.”
“And I’ll need you here to coordinate our calls.”
That seemed to appease her for the moment.
“I’m going with you, Katherine. And I’m gonna be stuck to you like glue, so no complaints. The boss would want me to keep you safe,” Brock said, crossing his arms, daring me to contradict him.
“Do you have a gun?”
“Gimme a break here. I ain’t some amateur.”
“And what am I supposed to do while you two go chasing around town?” Rosie asked.
The front door suddenly banged open, and E.T. came running in. “I found his car! It’s parked behind Bredesen Park. I didn’t touch a thing, don’t worry. I traipsed all over that park but couldn’t find a sign of the boss. From what I could see, though, the inside looked okay. Nothing seemed to be missing. And there wasn’t any . . . blood. Oh, hey, Mrs. Sullivan!” he managed between gulps of air. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Polly handed him a small bottle of water. “What were you doing out there? You were supposed to be on a call.”
“He don’t want no one to know, but he’s been drivin’ around town every chance he gets—lookin’ for the boss. He don’t sleep much anyways, so it makes him feel useful,” Brock said as we all focused on E.T.
“What does it matter how I found the car? I just did. Now come on, we have to get back there before any evidence gets compromised.”
He was right. Every minute we wasted was one more minute a stranger could come along and unintentionally get their prints all over Nathan’s car. Or an animal could leave DNA that would muddy the investigation.
I looked up at Brock, who stood beside me, zipping his parka. “We’ll take my jeep,” I told him.
* * *
E.T. sat next to me while Brock took his place in the middle of the back seat, leaning forward to catch every word. E.T. talked nonstop, pointing, directing me toward the park. He was agitated and frustrated. He’d pulled his long thin hair back in a ponytail. What looked like a stone hung from a leather cord around his neck. His bony fingers worked the buttons on his wool pea coat nonstop. This was definitely not the same man I’d met earlier in the year. True to her word, Rosie did not stay behind. She followed us on her motorcycle.
That man was calm and reflective. He’d been added to the crew because of his feng-shui knowledge, which allowed him to install alarms and monitoring systems in subtle, unobtrusive places in customers’ homes or businesses. He was a vegetarian proficient in martial arts. And while he’d go to any lengths to avoid a confrontation, this man looked ready to explode.
“I retraced the boss’s call sheet from Friday. I was scheduled to go with him that day, but there was a protest over at the courthouse, and I’d promised some friends . . . I should have done my job. I’ll never forgive myself—”
“Hey, man, stop beating yourself up. You ain’t doin’ no one any good,” Brock told him.
“He’s right,” I said as I steered toward the entrance of the park.
“Not here,” E.T. said. “Go around there.” He pointed to a side road.
Bredesen Park covers 206 acres. There’s a two-mile trail to walk or bike around the area. Nine Mile Creek runs through it. In the center is a nature reserve with an assortment of animals. But it was the marsh and pond trails that worried me. Nathan could be hurt or, worse yet, in a watery place where we’d never find him.
I’d driven about half a mile when I spotted Nathan’s car in an isolated area. Because it was dark green, it blended in with the fir trees surrounding it and was difficult to see at first. Once I parked, the three of us got out of the jeep without a word and headed over to the Nissan. Rosie pulled up alongside the car on her bike, removed her helmet, but stayed put.
I’d grabbed a handful of latex gloves Nathan kept in his office and now handed each man a pair, then took one for myself.
“I’d say it’s been here for at least two days. A car doesn’t get covered in this much grit and bird poop after just one day,” I said, peering in the driver’s window. “No sign of an attack. The upholstery isn’t torn—no dirt or blood.”
E.T. stood by the back window. “Like I said, everything looks fine.”
“Any chance the keys are in the ignition?” Brock asked as he shielded his eyes from the sun and stared in at the steering wheel. Then he answered his own question: “Nope.”
“You two are going to do a search of this entire area. One of you walk the perimeter. Slowly spiral around, working toward the center. The other one start in the center and slowly work your way out. Be as thorough as you can. You both have your phones?”
They looked at me like I was crazy for asking.
“Good. Stay in touch. We came here together; we’re leaving that way. Call if you find anything . . . any little thing that looks wrong could be important. While I give the car a good going over, Rosie can start canvassing the neighborhood. There’s got to be at least one person who saw something.”
Both nodded, seemingly relieved that they had a definite job to do, and left.
Alone, I walked around the vehicle, inspecting every inch of it. I looked at the treads of each tire, inspected the hood, and scrutinized the doors from every angle for a dent, a scratch . . . anything . . . all the while, hoping I’d catch something that would lead us to Nathan.