Standing off to the side were two men in suits. Though Jake had never seen them before, they had the unmistakable look of detectives. They probably weren’t the primaries on the case — that would have fallen to the guys who’d shown up right after the body was discovered. No, these two would be doing babysitting duty, on hand in case anything came up, but likely to move on to something else the minute they drove away.
One of them was glancing in Jake’s direction, so Jake headed over, knowing it was better to take the initiative and introduce himself than hope they’d just ignore him.
“Can I help you?” the detective asked as Jake neared.
“I’m Officer Oliver,” Jake said. “I was first on scene last night.”
The detective looked at him, clearly waiting for more.
Jake had known he was going to have to explain why he was there, so he had come up with a story on the drive over. Now that he was about to voice it, it seemed ridiculous, but it was too late to come up with anything else.
“We, uh, did a wide perimeter search when we first got here,” he said. “You know, in case there was anyone who escaped the fire but might need help.”
The second detective raised an eyebrow. “And?”
Jake smiled sheepishly. “This is actually kind of embarrassing.”
Neither of the detectives said anything.
“I think I, uh, might have lost a pen my girlfriend gave me.”
“A pen,” the first detective said, his face blank.
“It’s a nice pen. One of those expensive kinds, know what I mean? I got a call when I was walking around.” Jake waved at the desert beyond the barn. “When I pulled out my phone, I think my pen might have come out, too. I didn’t notice it was gone until I got home.”
“So you think your pen is out here somewhere?” the second detective said.
“Yeah. I told you it was embarrassing.”
“You were right.”
“Would you mind if I looked for it?” Jake asked.
“Officer Oliver, I assume you’ve learned how important it is not to contaminate a crime scene?”
“We didn’t know it was a crime scene at the time.”
Both detectives stared at him. “The building was on fire. There was a pretty good chance something was wrong, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sir. It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I should just forget about it.” Jake started to turn away.
“Hold on,” the first detective said, stopping him. The man then raised his voice. “Pat!”
A man standing inside the wreckage looked up. “What?”
“This guy lost something out in the desert around the barn. Okay if he looks for it?”
The man, Pat, glanced at Jake. “Who is he?”
“One of ours. Was here last night.”
Pat shrugged. “We finished up out there, so shouldn’t be a problem. Just stay at least twenty feet from the building.”
The first detective looked at Jake. “You’re in luck. Go have your look, but don’t be long.”
“Thank you,” Jake said, sighing inwardly with relief.
He started with the tank to the left of the building, and immediately saw that the line of disturbed earth leading to the barn had been trampled over by the fire crews. He looked for the trough the rope or cable had created, but it was gone, too. This was evidence he alone now had, evidence he should probably turn over to the detectives. Not the two idiots out front, though. The ones in charge.
He circled around the tank and could immediately tell the firefighters hadn’t come back this way. The disturbed earth was untouched. With the aid of the morning sunlight, it seemed pretty clear whoever kicked it up had done so in a hurry. Jake scanned the surrounding area, looking for anything he might have missed in the darkness, but nothing stood out.
He moved on, walking in a wide arc that would take him behind the barn. Unfortunately, now that the structure wasn’t much more than a pile of charred wood, he was visible to the detectives pretty much wherever he went. To keep up the illusion of the lost pen, he focused his gaze more on the ground than on the crime scene.
The few glimpses he did take of the barn told him nothing new.
He paralleled the back of the building, then turned along the other side, and immediately spotted something he hadn’t noticed previously. A tree. It was another thirty feet farther into the desert on the left. Its blackened trunk and leafless branches looked brittle. It was actually more a reminder of a tree than a tree itself, doing time until one of the strong winds that blew through the valley on occasion finally brought it to the ground.
This was the side of the barn Haywood had checked out, so it was understandable why Jake hadn’t seen it before. He walked toward it, wanting to do a thorough job, so that when he drove off he’d know there had been nothing more to find. Hopefully, that would appease his mind, and his obsession with the fire would wane.
From over at the barn, he could hear a few of the other detectives talking about the upcoming basketball season. The Phoenix Suns had never won the NBA title, but they made the playoffs almost every year. In Jake’s opinion, that made it more torturous for fans than if the team never made the playoffs at all. Jake liked basketball, but he couldn’t bring himself to give in to the futility of being a Suns fan just yet. A few more years on the force and he was sure to be cheering and groaning with the rest of them.
As he neared the tree he noticed several sets of footprints, many on top of each other. He picked out a set that probably belonged to Haywood. The shape was very much like the ones made by Jake’s uniform shoes.
Unfortunately, Jake’s partner hadn’t been concerned about footprints or marks in the sand. His own steps had trampled over much of what had been there before, but they hadn’t completely obscured everything.
Jake crouched down. If he wasn’t mistaken, someone had been sitting next to the tree, perhaps even leaning against it. He looked quickly back toward the others. No one was looking his way, so he pulled out his camera and took a couple of quick shots, then examined the markings again.
What he couldn’t figure out from looking at them was the same thing he couldn’t figure out about the kicked dirt back at the tank—when they had actually been created.
With a sigh, he started to stand up, but paused, his eye catching sight of a dark blue piece of paper under a tumbleweed near the base of the tree. Leaning forward, he eased the paper out, then saw that it wasn’t just a piece of paper, it was a matchbook. Not necessarily unusual to find discarded in the desert. What was unusual, though, was the fact it didn’t appear weathered at all. Even after a few days in the desert, a colored piece of paper or cardboard would start to fade, and become either brittle from the heat or softened by the wind as it tumbled across the ground. There was absolutely no fading of color on the matchbook, nor was it brittle or soft. As far as Jake was concerned, it looked like it had just come out of a fresh package.
There was a logo on the front of the flap, a sun rising over the mountains. And on the back was printed LAWRENCE HOTEL. Below this was an address and phone number.
As he turned it back over, it hit him that he wasn’t wearing gloves. He groaned. If this was a piece of evidence, he’d just contaminated it with his fingerprints.
Maybe it’s not so bad, he thought. He’d basically only touched the sides and a little bit of the surface. What he really should do was put it in a plastic bag. Of course, he didn’t have one.
He could ask the ID techs for one, but knew the second they saw what he was holding, he’d be in trouble. Drop it back on the ground and call them over? They’d still find his prints.