Page 58 of Long Gone

“It was pushed all the way back. Hugo wasn’t a tall man. He usually kept it somewhere in in the middle.”

He was silent for a moment. “You think someone moved the seat and cleaned the car.”

“From the report, it doesn’t look like anyone tested it for any kind of evidence.”

“I think they took some prints, but I never heard the results for that.”

“Could you check?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’ll call up to Little Rock and see what they’ve got.”

“Maybe don’t mention my name.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. No offense, but I’m not exactly shouting it from the rooftops that I’m working with you.”

“No offense taken. I think.”

“I’ll let you know when I hear about those results.”

“Thanks, Detective Jones.”

I hung up and looked at the time on my laptop. It was 9:15, and it was going to take me about twenty minutes to get there, not to mention I needed to walk to my car, which was still parked across the street from Carter Hale’s office.

I dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt, a sweater, and a thick raincoat since the forecast called for rain possibly mixed with snow.

Had the killer struggled with Hugo in the car? Perhaps it had gotten messy, from the mud and possibly blood, and they’d had to clean it up? I had lots of questions, but I felt we were moving in the right direction.

I put on a pair of athletic shoes and carried a pair of rain boots in a bag, taking a latte to keep me warm on the walk. My mother didn’t appear at the back door when I left, so I knew I must really be in trouble. I had to find somewhere else to live.

Chapter 14

When I pulled up to the Sunny Point property, the first thing I noticed was that the gate to the property was open. It looked like Carter had already come through. Funny how I’d never doubted he would.

After I turned onto the road into the property, I stopped and shut the gate behind me. While I doubted anyone would notice the gate was open and call the sheriff, I didn’t want to press my luck.

I drove up the hill, noticing dark clouds in the distance. I needed to get this done before it started to rain.

A Jeep Cherokee with an open top was parked by the shed. I parked next to it and got out, bracing myself against a gust of wind that blew strands of hair into my face. I’d dressed warmly, but cold still seeped through the open spots, chilling me to the bone.

I swept the hair out of my eye and noticed the man with his back leaning against the front of the Jeep, holding a travel mug in his hand. He turned to face me with a grin. “Hello, Detective.”

James Malcolm.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

“Now, now,” he chided. “Be careful or I might think you’re ungrateful.”

“Carter offered a vehicle.”

“And you think he’s paying for it?” he asked as he pushed away from the Jeep and walked toward me.

“Fine, I’ll reimburse you.”

He laughed, but it was short-lived. “I don’t want your money. Maybe I’m here because I feel like I owe you for getting me out of Peterman’s clutches.”

“And what about your interest in the man who has done heinous things?”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

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