Ann nodded. “That makes sense.”
Evie taped up photos of the Florist family. Scott and Susan Florist, their young son, Joe. A deputy, his wife, and their boy, all three missing. Scott was a good-looking man, his wife’s smile reflected in her eyes, and she looked happy. The boy had a grin full of mischief.
Evie’s hand traced across the three photos. If she felt her mind wandering to the task force again, to her place on it, she had only to look at the photos to bring herself back to what really mattered. She wanted to find out what had happened to these three people. There was extended family in this town who needed answers. She took a deep breath and felt herself settle in for the duration. This was what she was good at, right here, working a case.
She found a marker and to the left of the photos drew a long line across the length of the wall. Midpoint she scored the line and wrote down the date of the disappearance. She didn’t know if the answers to the case would be found in the information before or after that date. The trigger for why a crime happened often rested days or weeks before it occurred. The actions of the guilty party after a crime were often just as revealing. Sometimes it was a combination of both that helped her figure out the puzzle.
She gingerly picked up the first box, her stiff back complaining, and carried it over to a table, took a seat, and began to sort out the contents, looking for information and facts she wanted to highlight on the timeline.
“Evie,” Ann called over, “the list of open questions-do you want them first thing on the wall as people come and go, or do you want them deeper in the room so someone has to walk past all the gathered facts before they get to the questions being asked?”
“Deep in the room would be best. I don’t want to have to explain to curious deputy George or family member Flo how come I want the alibi for the sheriff the night the Florist family disappeared.”
“Ouch.”
“Too tough?”
“Nope. Work it hard and work it deep.”
Evie nodded, kept turning pages in the file. She fully intended to do just that.
Half an hour later, Evie turned away from adding a date to the timeline, saw the sheriff through the glass just before he pulled open the door, and made a point of sitting back down at the table and pulling over some paperwork, giving it her attention.
“Hey, Ann,” Gabriel said as the door closed behind him. “I recognize the Dayton case. That wall is already looking useful.”
“It’s getting there. It’s a simple case for the most part. She was a beautiful child.”
“That she was.”
“We need more office supplies-Post-it notes, yellow pads of paper, pens, tape, markers. Where do you recommend I get them?”
“Tell Iris. Shopping for office supplies makes her day.”
Ann laughed. “I may tag along with her. A good color variety stack of Post-it notes makes my day too.”
Evie heard Gabriel crossing the room in her direction and glanced up. He was in uniform, carrying a folder, very much the sheriff with similar appeal today as when she was a young girl thinking uniforms made the man.
“Hello, Evie.” His opening was friendly, and she heard not a trace of humor about her post-accident demeanor, a point in his favor. He leaned against the table beside her. “How’s the headache?”
Her head was still painful, and the stitches pulled-not what she wanted to admit. “It’s not aching like it was,” she answered with some caution.
He smiled, no doubt recognizing the dodge. “We’re bringing in a big cooler that we’ll keep stocked with ice and soda. Consider it a perk of the job and help yourself. The root beer is local and excellent, but if you get tired of it and prefer other types of soda, we won’t razz you that much.”
She relaxed a touch more, appreciating the one-of-the-guys tone more than she would like to admit. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“You and I have some business to complete.” He placed papers beside her. “The police report on the deer you hit for your insurance company.”
She flipped pages, saw photos, winced. “I didn’t remember it being this bad.”
“You were fortunate to have been able to walk away from it,” he commented, his tone now serious. “Give it a read and sign the last page. You can hand it back when you next see me. You’ve got a nice buck you earned the hard way if you’re interested in venison. Henry hauled it in to be butchered.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I don’t mind barbecued venison steaks, yet under the circumstances it doesn’t seem quite appropriate. Henry’s welcome to the buck in exchange for his time dealing with it.”
“I’ll let him know,” Gabriel said. “Your car is at Aaron’s Auto Shop. He can arrange to ship it to the garage of your choice, or he can work with Thomas over at Crane’s Body Shop and get the work done here. I’ll vouch for the fact they know what they’re doing.”
“If they can fix it within the next two weeks, I’d just as soon get the work done locally. I can get by with a rental.”
“Aaron thinks about a week plus-I’ll tell him to get started. The place next to Aaron’s is a used-car dealer. Ben will give you a week-by-week rental if only to be able to tell the next customer, ‘It’s been driven for the last week without the engine having a problem.’ I wouldn’t buy from him because most have been in prior wrecks-he likes to buy very cheap and mark up double, but he’s honest about it. You could pay more at a name-brand rental company if you like, get something without the history, or take a chance with Ben.”
“You’re steering me towards him.”
“Well, he’d be a first cousin to the missing Detective Scott Florist.”
“Ah, then Ben it is.”
“Thought you might agree.” He held up a set of keys. “For the yellow convertible parked outside. I figured you wouldn’t mind the flash.” She walked over to the window to look at the car. “Consider it another perk for the vacation,” he said behind her. “It didn’t leak oil on the way over here, which is a good sign. Stop by and sign the paperwork with Ben sometime before the end of the week. You’ll be able to angle the conversation over to the case while you’re there.”
She blinked, laughed. “Thanks. That’s an excellent-looking car.”
“Sure is. Just FYI-knowing the sheriff isn’t going to get you out of a speeding ticket. We need every fifty bucks we can get for the town’s budget.”
She pocketed the keys he offered. “I’ll try to remember.”
“City and county maps,” he said as she returned to the table. He laid them beside the accident paperwork. “Don’t get lost. There’s a GPS in the car, but I wouldn’t trust it for the back county roads.”
“Okay.”
“Your dogs are fine with Will. He’d like to keep them another few days, if that works for you, to make sure their bruises are fully healed. I marked his place on the map.”
“I spoke with him earlier today. I’m grateful to him. I just hope they haven’t already changed loyalties.”
He chuckled. “Will likes to tend things.” He pulled a phone out of his shirt pocket. “I brought you a spare office phone. We’ll spot you some minutes in return for your time on our cases. It’s GPS-tagged so I can always find you. It will get you through until you can get yours replaced.”
She turned the phone over, saw the number taped on the back. “Very useful. I’ve been borrowing Ann’s.”
He set another sheet of paper on the table. “Phone numbers you might need. Local stuff, Florist family relatives. Speed Dial One gets you me. Two is Josh. Three for Will. If we can’t answer a question for you, we’ll know who around here can.”
“Why are you being so helpful?”
“I’ve decided I like you,” he said lightly. “Maybe it’s the green eyes.”
She didn’t reply. He spun car keys around his finger and turned toward the door. “I’ll be back in about an hour. You want to start by talking through the Florist case?”