Page 47 of Obsession

“What are you carrying?” Emma asked.

“Gel lifters.”

“For...?” Nate asked.

He turned to the sheriff. “I want to see if I can find any latent footprints on the backhoe floor.”

“Don’t you think he put newspaper down again?”

“Maybe, but I thought I’d check. Any objections?”

At first Sam thought Nate was going to insist he wait for the crime scene techs, then he nodded. “My team was called to a homicide first thing this morning on the other side of the county. You know how to use the gel sheets?” he asked, nodding at the box.

“Yeah. And I have my camera to document anything I find. And a box to store any prints I make. It’ll hold two sheets, and I have more boxes in the SUV if I need them.”

“Are you telling me you can lift shoe prints off something like the floor of the backhoe?” Emma asked.

“It’s not the best place, but yeah, I can get a partial. You can watch if you’d like, unless you need to get to work on the pit.”

She glanced at the pit and then back at him. “How long will it take?”

“Not long.”

“This I’ve got to see. And I can’t do anything until Chris gets here with the camera, anyway.” She turned to Nate. “Is he with the crime scene techs?”

“Yes, but he radioed he was on his way. I’ll check to make sure,” he said and walked toward his vehicle.

Sam pulled on a pair of latex gloves before he dusted the handle on the cab. It was clean, but he hadn’t expected any fingerprints because he figured the man probably wore gloves.

He opened the cab door. His heart sank. The gray plastic mat covering the backhoe floor looked clean. Holding his flashlight at a low angle, he looked for prints. Nada.

Probably wouldn’t be anything on the step either. And it had a pattern in the steel. Not a good place to find prints. Holding the flashlight so that the light cut across the step at a ten-degreeangle, he caught his breath. There were several prints, but one stood out. “Do you see it?”

She squatted even with the step. “Shoe prints! How did you do that?”

“Ever had the sun come in through a window at a low angle and expose all your dust? Same principle. The clearest one should be the last one made. Hold the light, and I’ll get photos.”

She took the flashlight and shined it where he pointed.

“Can you hold the light at a lower angle?” When the print became visible, he said, “Right there.”

Sam laid a numbered chip beside the footprint and photographed it, then photographed it with a ruler to show the scale. After peeling the back off the quick-gel sheet, he carefully pressed it against the footprint and used the heel of his hand to smooth the sheet against the step.

“How long do you have to let it set?” Emma asked.

“This should be long enough.” He peeled the gel sheet off and shined his flashlight against it. Perfect. “It doesn’t look like the same shoe print we found in the pit,” he said.

“Do you think there were two of them digging last night?”

“Maybe. I’d wondered if there might be an accomplice, but it’s possible the print belongs to a maintenance worker.” Sam doubted that scenario. The print wasn’t overlaid with any of the other prints. “Whoever was here Thursday night didn’t leave prints anywhere. I’m thinking he didn’t have time to be as careful last night.”

21

There were thousands of acres of untamed woodlands up and down the Mississippi River, and out of those thousands he’d found the perfect plot of ground, three thousand acres complete with a modern cabin that a rich client of his had built and grown tired of. It even had a powerful generator—the cabin was so isolated, the local power company had yet to run lines to the property.

He turned off the gravel road and wound back through the trees to the cabin nestled on a bluff on the banks of the Mississippi. At the bottom of the bluff was a small inlet with a boathouse and an inboard motorboat. In his mind’s eye, he could see Emma helping him clear the trees, giving them an incredible view of the sun setting every evening.

Their life would be perfect. They could even take the boat out on the Mississippi occasionally.

---