Page 18 of Jon's Helter Skelter Cold Case

“—so it’ll be best if you play scribe.”

Abby looked happy just to have something productive to do. “Sure.”

Carol was a genius. It was a good way of keeping Abby actively in the loop while also teaching her how we analyzed case files. Plus we might actually be able to read the whiteboard this time. It was a win-win-win.

I poked my head into Sho’s office as we went, and Tyson’s, calling them in. Tyson had only just gotten in, his coffee cup glued to his hand, but he tiredly gave a nod and waved me on. He’d join us presently.

He might have had a point on the coffee thing. Mountains of boxes awaited me, after all.

I helped move some boxes off the table so we had room to spread things out, then sat at the very end near the whiteboard. Mostly so I could help Abby if she needed it. Jon sat next to me. He always chose to do so unless I had electronics in my hands.

Abby picked up a marker and then seemed uncertain on what to do next. For her sake, I offered suggestions.

“Abby, here’s how we normally lay things out. We know there’s going to be a timeline, right? See that yardstick? It’s there to help draw a straight line.”

Grateful for the direction, she grabbed the yardstick. “What else?”

“We always have a section for people, mostly the key players, and any key evidence we have on hand.”

Tyson chose to join us, spotted Abby at the whiteboard, and nodded approvingly. Tyson was the type to be a mentor, and I knew he approved of Jon taking Abby on as an apprentice. “Abby, if you could keep a section free for the questions, too, that’d be great. We always have questions while going through evidence, and sometimes we get lucky enough to find the answers.”

I snorted, as that sounded about right.

Abby paused in her drawing of the line to look at him. “So on TV when they have everything wrapped up in a court case?”

“Fantasy. Pure fantasy. Half the time, we don’t even know the motive.”

“Oh. Sounds tough.”

“Welcome to the real world, kid.” Tyson looked at the boxes and sipped his coffee. “Starting to wish this was an Irish coffee. Is this for the Evans case?”

“That’s the one.” Jon encouraged Tyson to sit next to him. “Want to help me compile an interview list?”

“Sure. I have enough brain power for that.”

Abby took all our suggestions to heart and not only drew a timeline, but she also blocked off sections and labeled them. She managed to draw straight lines on the first try while juggling a yardstick. Kid had mad skills.

“Hello, hello!” I heard from the doorway.

Grant waved as he came in. He looked better than I’d ever seen him, but I knew why, too. It wasn’t just the dark blue suit he wore for court, or the way he’d tamed those curls of his into a loose sweep. It was the lack of dark circles under his brown eyes. Used to be that if you put Grant into a white shirt, he could pass for any panda in a zoo. But now, with Alan as his anchor, he slept solid. Well, when he wasn’t getting pulled out for emergencies.

Speak of the devil, there was my cousin. Alan used to be a professor, and he still dressed the part in his cardigans and slacks.

Grant paused just inside the doorway, looking everything over. “I’m told you’ve got a cold case of sorts and you can’t find the body?”

“That’s about the size of it.” Borrowman snagged some of the victim’s clothes and rounded the table, heading for Grant. “Carol did her best, but she was thwarted. I’m starting to think this girl isn’t dead.”

“Ooh, love me a good plot twist. Okay, where can I nap?”

“We have the nap room,” Jon reminded him.

Grant put a hand to his heart and mock-reeled. “I get an actual bed? No way.”

Considering the many, many weird places he’d been forced to take a nap during his career? Yeah, beds were probably few and far between.

Borrowman and I went with him, mostly to witness it, and I handled camera. There wasn’t a camera in the nap room for many obvious reasons.

Grant promptly took the shirt out of the bag, plopped down on the bed, and scooted around to get comfy. Alan took up position nearby, as any anchor would do, casually leaning against the wall. He hardly needed to stand guard here, but I knew anchor instincts at play when I saw them.

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