She pushed the what-if scenario out of her head. For years that type of thinking had dominated her spare time, and she wasn’t about to get caught up in it now.
Focus on the case.
She asked her vehicle to call Art Juergen. Listening to the phone ring, she refused to worry that she was stepping over a department line again.
If I have a question, I should be able to ask.
“Hello?”
“Art. It’s Mercy. You have a minute?”
“Always for you.”
“We found an odd notation in Tabitha Huff’s notes that I wanted to run by you.”
“Go for it.”
“Did you ever consider that the getaway driver was female?”
Silence filled her vehicle.
“Well . . . that’s an odd one, Mercy,” he said in a voice full of contemplation. “I can’t say we investigated that angle specifically, but we looked into every female associated with all the men. Relatives, girlfriends, coworkers. We always operated under the assumption that the driver was male because Shane Gamble told us it was a man. Didn’t have any reason to doubt him. I think he would have noticed if it was a woman.”
“What if he didn’t want you to know it was a woman?”
Art was silent again. “I guess it’s possible. But what would be the point? I don’t see what we would have done differently if we thought it was a woman. We questioned all the female connections while trying to locate the thieves.”
She thought about the pages and pages of information and interviews of the women who’d been investigated as the FBI searched for a lead on where the men had vanished with the money.
“That’s true,” she admitted. “But you’d have to see the page in her notebook. It’s hard to explain, but by the way she wrote it, I believe she was convinced the driver was female . . . and she had been in touch with Shane Gamble. I suspect he said something that made her go that route.” As she said the words out loud, she realized the basis for her theory was very weak.
One notation.
“Well, she might have found something to make her believe that . . . and maybe it’s true. Now what?”
“I’ve got two women I’m looking at,” Mercy told him. “You heard about the attack on Bree Ingram, correct?”
“Yes. She’s lucky that kid showed up when he did.”
“Tabitha talked to Bree the day before she was murdered, and she also spoke to the female owner of a B&B in town. Gamble told me he asked Tabitha to deliver a message to someone to be careful because the body of Ellis Mull had been found.”
“Are those the only people Tabitha spoke to?”
“Well, no, but since a safety warning had been sent and then Bree was attacked, it was worth following up.”
“What did you find out?”
“That Bree Ingram is nearly impossible to track before she got married nearly thirty years ago. The same is true for Sandy, the B&B owner. It’s almost as if both women didn’t exist.”
“You think they have new identities. And they got new identities because they were avoiding investigation for the robbery.”
“Sandy does have a new identity, but it’s only ten years old, and we know she did it to escape an abusive husband. It’s odd because these two are the closest of friends. I honestly don’t think they knew each other before Sandy moved here. Bree’s lived here at least thirty years, and Sandy lived in Portland with her husband.”
“Doesn’t rule it out.” A pencil scratched in the background as he took notes. He was taking her theory seriously.
“It doesn’t,” agreed Mercy. “Sandy was assaulted earlier today by her ex-husband. He had her at gunpoint, but she managed to turn the tables on him.”
“She hurt?”
“A few cuts and bruises. Sandy’s ex has a firm alibi for Bree’s attack. He didn’t attack Bree.”
“Still odd that two best friends suffered attacks so close together. They were tight?”
“Very,” said Mercy.
“Any new leads on who attacked Bree Ingram?”
“No hits on the fingerprints—”
Art laughed. “He left fingerprints?”
“Yeah, not the smartest guy. They’re expanding the search on the prints. The other lead is a red truck that was seen near Bree’s home at the time of the attack. The plate was stolen, so we’re narrowing it down by the make and model of the vehicle.”
“That sounds promising.” Enthusiasm rang in his voice. “Stolen plates. Someone was up to no good.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll go through my notes with your theory in mind about a female driver,” Art told her. “Can I check in with you later?”
“Yes, I’m headed back to the office right now. Leave me a message if I don’t answer.”
“Will do.”
The call ended.
Pleased Art hadn’t punched too many holes in her female-driver theory, Mercy placed a call to Evan Bolton. Think of all the time wasted in vehicles before hands-free conversations.
“Bolton.”
“Evan, it’s Mercy.”
“Hey. I was about to call you. So far we’ve only eliminated two of the six trucks in the area.”
“I’d hoped to hear a better number than that.”
“That makes two of us. I’ve sent deputies to four of the homes, but no one was home at two of them and no signs of the truck. I’m following up on employment locations, but we’ve got a marijuana bust situation south of here that’s gotten out of hand. That takes priority and a good number of the deputies.”
“Marijuana is legal now. Why are people still growing it on illegal farms?”
“Most of it is shipped out of state.”
“I see. How about you give me a couple of those addresses for the trucks and I’ll check them out?”
“You sure?”
“I am. It feels like our strongest lead to discover who attacked Bree Ingram—and hopefully will give us some insight on the Gamble-Helmet Heist.”
“That’s a long stretch.”
“I know. But it’s one I’m willing to check out. Email me the addresses. I have some work at the office, but I should get to them within an hour or two.”
“Will do.”
Mercy ended the call as she pulled into her office parking lot.
I’ve got a good feeling about that truck.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“You’re sure you don’t need a change of clothes?” Ollie asked Kaylie again.
She laughed, making his stomach twist in a pleasant way. “I never get wet.”
“But you believe I will?”
“Absolutely.”
Kaylie had talked him into paddleboarding this afternoon. He’d watched people float down the Deschutes River on the long boards, standing with tall paddles in their hands.
It looked easy.
He’d handled the equipment at Lake Ski and Sports, wondering what it would be like to stand on one. One of his personal goals was to try out a half dozen new activities that he’d learned about since working at the warehouse. The job had exposed him to a whole new world he hadn’t known existed. He’d also learned that sports and communing with nature were expensive. Some of the price tags had blown him away, making him wonder who could afford to spend that sort of money on “fun.” Today he and Kaylie were going to rent boards near the Old Mill District.
Like hell he could afford his own board.
“Maybe we should have waited for a super-hot day. That water is going to be icy,” Ollie muttered as he pulled into the parking lot of the Bend FBI office.
“It will definitely be cooler out on the river,” Kaylie said. “I’m glad I wore yoga pants, but I should have brought a sweatshirt.” She eyed his cargo shorts and short-sleeved shirt. “You might need something more.”