Page 91 of Snow Creek

I resist calling him back right then. He’s got small kids and a wife that can only be so understanding. Work at the crime lab is never a nine to five.

At least it shouldn’t be when there is so much at stake.

I open the first of several folders and plow through the content as quickly as I can. I read the texts between Ellie and Joshua as fast as possible. I’m no longer tired. I’m energized. Morning can’t come quick enough.

Finding out the truth is the shot of adrenalin that keeps detectives going where others never tread.

Truth, it turns out, is our drug of choice.

Marley Yang is sitting in a state vehicle in our parking lot when I arrive at seven. He swings open his door, lugs a big black briefcase and hurries to greet me. He’s short and compact, a wisp of facial hair on his chin and a head of hair that anyone—man or woman—would envy. Longish, black, luxurious, thick with bunched up locks in the back that indicates he wears it in a ponytail or, God forbid, a man bun.

He’s also carrying a tray of coffees.

I smile at the balancing act.

“Your files kept me up half the night. Coffee is not only appreciated, but desperately needed, Marley.”

He indicates a clear envelope nestled in the coffee tray. Inside, a flash drive.

“Champagne might be in order.”

“I like champagne. Sheriff does too.”

Sheriff meets us inside and we head to a darkened conference room while Marley sets up the zip and turns on the projector. He opens his briefcase and sets out a stack of printouts. It’s thick. More than three hundred pages. Details of what he’ll be showing. He told me one time that if he could do anything other than working for the state crime lab, he’d be a professional poker player.

He loves holding his cards to his vest before the big laydown.

I don’t mind.

“There are literally thousands of pages of content on the phone. Texts and photos. Also, the history of Ellie’s web search and downloads, too.”

“That sounds daunting,” Sheriff replies.

“It is, though I’ve organized the content to what would be most helpful right now. After we go through it, we’ll take your direction on how to proceed as you build your cases.”

“Cases?” Sheriff asks.

I know Marley dropped that on purpose, so I give him a nod as the screen lights up.

“Let’s start with the text messages first,” I say. “I was up all night reading them.”

Marley nods. “Yeah, Ellie was a practiced texter. Maybe world class. Hardly a day went by until three weeks ago that she didn’t text several hundred times.”

“My thumbs hurt just thinking about that,” I say. “Did you organize by date or recipient?”

He opens a folder on the screen.

“Both.”

Sheriff gives me a look of approval.

He likes where this is going too.

“I focused on the primaries that Detective Carpenter noted in her report. Tyra Whitcomb’s number was aligned with contact name Ty. She was a primary focus of Ellie’s attention on social media and texting for quite some time.”

He indicates the screen. “Most of the texts were of this nature.”

The screen is filled with a grouping of texts.

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