“I tend to agree.” McCoy’s cell phone rang. He checked caller ID and connected the call via the SUV’s hands-free system. “Yes, Detective. You’re on speakerphone and Cole Walker is here with me.”
“I’ve roused both owners of the surveillance cameras,” Stella said. “I just finished with Moses Randall at the feed store. The view of the highway is blurry and distorted at best, but I could see the shape of what looks like a light colored sedan cruise past at 10:23 PM on the tape. It came from the south, which would be the direction from Mattie’s house, headed north on Highway 12. There was one more vehicle that passed from the south four minutes later. It was a dark colored pickup truck.”
“Can you ID the car or the truck?”
“Too distorted. Can’t tell make or model. But I’m headed to the gas station. If either vehicle turned west at the intersection, and if we have a better picture, I’ll be able to spot them in the same timeframe.”
Sounded like a lot of ifs to Cole.
“Good work. Call if you get anything,” McCoy said, signing off.
Cole thought of the two pickup trucks he’d spotted in the parking lot on the day he and the kids found the boot. “Tucker York drives a dark blue pickup truck.”
McCoy swiped and tapped his phone. “I’ll try his cell again.”
Cole waited while the sheriff ended the call and redialed, repeating the process several more times. Finally, he left a message: “Mr. York, this is Sheriff McCoy of Timber Creek County. Call me back when you get this message.”
“So he’s not answering his phone,” Cole said.
“Could be sound asleep. The phone could be turned off or in a different room.”
Cole knew that to be true, but still felt a growing suspicion that the man could be involved. He was in a prime position for having access to the drug and the method used to tranquilize Robo. But, he reasoned, there was no known connection between York and Mattie or her brother.
They were nearing Mattie’s house when McCoy spoke again. “What are we going to do about your involvement in this investigation, Cole? I deputized you to secure the chain of evidence on that dart, but you’re still a civilian.”
“A civilian trained in the use of firearms and who has worked with you on cases before. You know you can trust me to keep my mouth shut.”
“Not worried about that.”
“I’m the closest thing you have to a K-9 handler for Robo right now, and I’ve trained with Mattie before. You deputized me, Sheriff, and I’m staying on the case.”
When he heard his name, Robo poked his nose through the heavy-gauge mesh that separated his compartment from the front. Cole reached through to stroke the top of his head, squaring off toward the driver’s side of the vehicle. He wouldn’t let Sheriff McCoy send him home now.
“It’s not your responsibility, and I can’t guarantee that we can keep you safe,” McCoy said.
“I’m safer investigating with your team than I am out there on my own. And I will search for Mattie on my own. You know I’m not good at sitting at home waiting by the phone.”
McCoy shot a glance his way. “Let’s take this a step at a time. For now, you’re still deputized, and you’re still in. I’ll inform you if I change my mind.”
They pulled up in front of Mattie’s house and found the Byers County van parked at the vacant lot. Additional lights had been set up in both the lot and Mattie’s back yard.
“You know how Robo learned to do a scent lineup last month?” Cole asked. He’d been mulling over what Mattie had told him about teaching Robo to match a scent article to a lineup of people. It was a skill used more frequently in European countries, and one not necessarily given credence in American courts of law. However, it had proven valuable for Mattie to ferret out the owner of a piece of evidence.
McCoy murmured a sound of agreement.
“I want to take him to the backyard now and ask him to do a thorough sweep. I don’t know if he’ll find something that your officers couldn’t, but he’ll at least get his nose full of this person’s scent. If he locks it into his memory, maybe he could identify the person later. You never know.”
McCoy raised an eyebrow. “Go to it. I’ll tell Johnson and Garcia what you’re up to.”
Cole fastened a leash on Robo’s collar, making a stop at his truck to give McCoy the box that contained the dart. He also wanted to keep offering Robo water to help him metabolize any remaining effects of the drug. He followed McCoy to the backyard, leading Robo past the fence where the sheriff huddled with his deputies.
After going to the porch, Cole paused and gave Robo several firm pats on his side, hugging him against his leg the way he’d seen Mattie do time and time again. Robo tolerated the affection but didn’t look into his eyes with the ecstatic pleasure he always shared with his girl. “Just doing the best I can, buddy,” he murmured.
He remembered the command Mattie used for evidence detection. Seek! He tried to get Robo to search a grid. Directing the dog with gestures wasn’t as easy as it looked when Mattie did it, but Robo put his nose to the ground and started quartering the yard in a two-foot swath. Thank goodness, Cole thought as he followed the shepherd.
Robo charged up and down the yard quickly until they approached the fence along the side yard. At that point, he slowed, thoroughly sniffing the ground. Cole could imagine him taking in all the scents he was collecting and cataloging them into his memory. About halfway down the fence line, Robo broke from the grid pattern and followed his nose to the area where Riley had found him down and unconscious.
“I think someone came at Mattie and Robo from along the fence here,” Cole told McCoy, who was standing by observing the process. Cole gestured along the ground. “This appears to be a scent trail.”
McCoy indicated that he understood.
Cole knew the information was anticlimactic, but he’d pinned his hopes on logging the guy’s scent into Robo’s unique data bank, which appeared to be a success. He finished up the search without any objects or visual evidence to show for it.
But he’d come up with another thought, which he shared with McCoy as they led Robo toward the front yard. “Mattie spent most of the evening with her foster mother, Teresa Lovato. She knows Mattie as well as anyone. I wonder if she’d have any idea who might have attacked her and Robo.”
“Are you thinking this is someone from Mattie’s personal life?”
“I’m just trying to cast a wide net. We know it’s possible that someone associated with her past might have killed her brother. So it’s possible the person who took her could’ve known her, too, or at least could’ve known who she is.”
“I’ll go with you. I need to inform Mrs. Lovato about what’s happened.”
After Cole loaded Robo into the K-9 unit, McCoy drove them to a white, stucco two-story on the west side of town, a home that Cole had never been to before. On their way, the sheriff had called Mattie’s foster mother to warn her they were coming.
The porch light flicked on. As McCoy shut down the car’s engine, the front door opened, revealing a Hispanic woman of short stature wrapped in a pink bathrobe. Cole followed the sheriff up the sidewalk, and as they approached, more detail became apparent; the woman’s gray-streaked black hair was worn in a long side braid that trailed down her chest, her wrinkled face etched with concern.
“What’s this about Mattie, Sheriff?” She extended her hand to draw the officer into her home. “I was asleep and not thinking too good, so tell me again.”
Cole paused at the threshold while McCoy explained that Mattie was missing after an apparent attack on her dog. Though she didn’t make a sound, tears began to stream down the lady’s wrinkled cheeks while he spoke. When he finished filling her in, McCoy introduced Cole.