He touched her arm. “Do you see something?”
“No. No, I was just thinking.”
“Uh-oh. Dangerous concept.”
“Actually,” she said pensively, “I was wondering if the shooter might have figured we’d only gone a short distance instead of taking to the highway. If that was so, your truck could have been blocking the road the same as all these vehicles are now.”
“Meaning?”
“He could have taken Max’s car to the boat ramp. Do we dare suggest it or will we look guilty?”
“I think it’s a little late to worry about that,” Shane told her with a slight smile. He banged on the car window with his fists. “Hey! Hey out there! Open up. We have an idea.”
Repeated efforts were necessary before anyone outside the patrol car paid attention, let them out and actually listened. Once they did, however, it was less than a quarter hour before cars were being jockeyed around to admit a wrecker with a crane.
“Nice rig,” Shane remarked as it passed. “A bit old but serviceable. Wouldn’t mind having one like it.”
“You men and your toys,” Jamie grumbled.
“Women keep useless dogs or cats. Men like rusty metal. It’s genetic.”
“I wouldn’t know. My father wasn’t very mechanically minded. He was great with crops and ranching, though.”
“What about your mother? What were her interests?”
“The same as his, I guess. They worked together to make the farm pay, at least enough to scrape by. Neither one expected to get rich. It’s the lifestyle that matters more than profits.”
“Did she have hobbies?”
“You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you? Well, it’s not working,” Jamie said.
“Actually, I started out to do that. But I got to thinking. People may change their names and try to hide their past, but they still have the same talents and interests. They can’t help it. Wherever your mother went, she’s probably doing some of the same things she used to do, only in a different context.”
“Milking cows and canning vegetables? I doubt it.”
“How about cooking for a living? Or maybe working with animals, like in a shelter or at a vet’s?”
“Without more clues than that we’d never locate her.”
“No, and we don’t even want to try until all the criminals involved in my dad’s case are in jail. It’s just something to think about.”
A shout echoed. Then another. One of the firefighters jogged back up the road and motioned to them. “Hey, you two. Follow me. They want you for identification.”
“I think I’ll stand back and leave that to you,” Jamie told Shane.
He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Feel free to close your eyes when we get there if you want. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Cuddling closer, she wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned in far enough to rest her head partially beneath his chin. “Mister, if you think I’m going to bellyache about that, you’re crazier than you think I am.”
“I may be the crazy one,” he admitted. “We’re going to ID a body and yet I almost feel like smiling.”
“I know what you mean. So do I. I suspect it’s because we’re both so happy to be alive.”
And together, Shane added silently. I’m in real trouble here. When we’re apart I feel as if half of me is missing. That cannot be a good sign. Not good at all.
* * *
Apparently, Max Williford’s car had not rolled far after being started down the boat ramp because Jamie Lynn saw no divers in wetsuits. Someone had hooked a chain to the rear bumper of the dark sedan and the tow truck was easing it out of the lake.
Water poured from every opening. Men with flashlights shined them through the open windows.
“We’ve got a body,” one of them shouted.
Standing in Shane’s embrace, Jamie pressed her cheek to his shoulder and pivoted to face him. As long as no one insisted she look at the poor man again, she wasn’t going to volunteer. She knew the image would give her nightmares for years to come.
What he had managed to tell them was helpful, although incomplete. The only detail still unknown was whether Abernathy’s son, Alan, had been driving the murder car or if Judge Randall’s daughter was the guilty party.
They were both in hot water, of course. And both had had motive and opportunity. Therefore, it boiled down to the difference between charges of premeditated murder or aiding and abetting. She was certain that neither the judge nor the prosecutor wanted the truth to come out. Therefore, either could have shot Max—or hired it done.