Page 58 of Midnight Secrets

“Stay here.” I held up a hand to Claire as we got close.

She halted, reaching behind her head to raise her hood. “It came in from another direction. There are tire tracks behind it. I walked all the way around it.”

Nodding, I moved forward, watching my step. Small branches and pine needles crunched under my boots. A few feet from the car, I stopped, shining my light over the ground. Claire’s lopsided fresh prints stood out, but there were someolder ones, mostly near the driver’s door. The ground cover wasn’t quite as springy there as elsewhere.

I tucked my light under my arm and took the digital camera from my evidence kit. Making sure the flash was on, I snapped a few pictures.

It certainly looked like the right car. Taking careful steps and photographing as I went, I reached the back.

The license plate matched. I still needed to look at the VIN to confirm it, but I’d put money on this being Hammond’s vehicle.

Continuing around the other side, nothing else stood out except the tire tracks disappearing into the darkness. I took a peek through the SUV’s windows, and saw it was empty, as Claire said.

It was also extremely clean. There were even vacuum tracks in the carpet in the passenger footwell. Either Hammond was a complete neat-freak, or someone had thoroughly cleaned the car before dumping it in the woods.

My question was whether that someone was Warren.

After snapping a picture of the VIN, I walked back to Claire.

“All done?” She peered at me from beneath her hood. In the light from my flashlight, I could see the redness on the end of her nose.

“For now. I want to double-check the VIN, then I need to see if I can get a message to the station on the radio.”

“It’s Warren’s car, isn’t it?” She fell into step beside me as I started toward the road.

“I think so. The license plate matches. Unless someone put his plate on the exact same car, it’s his.”

“And you still don’t know where he is? Did you find his brother?”

“Not exactly. I found his name and social media pages. From what I can tell, he lives in Indonesia.”

“Indonesia? What?” Incredulity laced her tone.

“Yeah. Surprised me too. He owns an import-export business. I haven’t been able to contact him yet, though. He has little info about his company on his social media pages, and I have, so far, struck out searching state databases for business holdings in his name. A judge granted me a warrant late yesterday so I could submit a request to the IRS for any information on his company. I was also granted one to get access to Warren Hammond’s passport usage from Customs and Border Protection. But I haven’t heard back from either agency yet.” Hopefully, it wouldn’t take weeks for them to run their searches.

Every day I spent investigating was another day Hammond’s trail ran cold. Even if I could track him to a specific city, if he went off the grid, I would have to rely on witnesses to help me locate him, and memories faded with time. The sooner I could pin down where he went—if he’d indeed left the area—the better.

We broke through the trees, reaching the road. I jogged ahead of her to my truck and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

Claire walked up, but stopped short of climbing in. An eyebrow winged upward as she eyed the bottom of the doorframe, then lifted her booted foot. “Not sure that’s going to work.”

“It’s not that much higher than your car.” I backed away, reaching for the rear passenger door. “Hang on.” Opening the door, I tossed my evidence kit and flashlight onto the backseat, then returned to her side. Reaching into the cab, I plucked the manila folder with my case notes off the seat and put it on the dash. “Okay. Let me help you in.” I held out a hand.

She tucked a gloved hand into mine and pushed off the ground with her good leg. Slipping my other hand under her elbow, I guided her in.

“Thank you.” She swung her legs in, and I took her crutch and closed the door.

After retrieving the camera from the backseat and stowing the crutch, I joined her up front.

“Dig into that folder and find the page with Hammond’s vehicle information, would you?” I gestured to the folder on the dash, then started the truck, getting the heater going again, before picking up the radio mic.

“Sure.” She poked the button above our heads to turn on the cab lights, then grabbed the folder. The soft rustle of papers filled the confined space.

I turned up the volume on my radio, then checked the frequency and said a prayer dispatch could hear me as I pressed the transmission button. “PL-two-twelve to dispatch, over.” I lifted my thumb and waited.

Static erupted, then Hailey Branson’s voice filled the car. “PL-two-twelve, go ahead.”

Relief flooded my veins. Things just got much simpler. I pressed the transmission button again. “Dispatch, PL-two-twelve. I’m on-scene of a ten-twenty-eight. Silver BMW X5. Requesting a tow truck to my location. And let Chief Riggs know. I have limited cell reception out here.”

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