“Back to the office?” Evie asked, sliding the key into the ignition.
“Yes.”
“As soon as we’re there, I’ll get the task force on a conference call, get them up to speed. We may need their help before tonight plays out. Sharon’s assistance with the press is a given.”
“Thanks.” David dialed from the passenger seat. “I’m back, guys, talk to me. Tell me you’ve found something useful.”
Evie used the wipers to brush off a fresh dusting of snow as she listened to David’s side of the conversation. Road and traffic noise made putting the phone on speaker impractical.
“Nice!” David turned her way, relaying key points. “They located where Andrew Timmets stayed last night, have his background, just pulled up his social-media page under ‘Tim Mets’—a play on his surname. But it’s our guy.”
Evie smiled. “That suggests he’s posted something that could be worrisome to him if it was under his real name.”
“I agree.” David reached around for his briefcase. “Give me the rest of it, guys.” He listened in while he opened the case and retrieved his electronic tablet, clicked it on.
“He grew up in Chicago,” he relayed to Evie. “His parents are divorced, the father still here in Chicago, the mother now in Indiana. They’ve got a cop at the father’s Chicago home, but the man hasn’t seen his son in six years. The mother in Indiana isn’t home.”
“Where was Andrew last night?”
“Staying with college friends—a married couple, Judy and Jeffery Oakland. Andrew left at ten a.m., said he was heading back to Indiana.”
“If he left at ten to go home, he would’ve been there by now with hours to spare,” Evie said. “Either he’s on the Interstate on his way home or he’s still in the Chicago area.”
“Indiana issued a locate warrant, but that search is coming up blank. Could be he’s got his phone turned off, or he’s not in their geographic area yet. They’re having a hard time convincing a judge on the Illinois side to issue one. Cops are looking for other friends. They’re trying to get his past phone records to help with their search.”
“A long shot, but worth a try,” Evie said.
“What’s on his crime sheet?” David took notes as he listened on the phone. “Thanks, I appreciate the update. I’ll be back in touch in about twenty minutes.” He ended the call, pocketed his phone. “Andrew’s got a pled-down B&E from when he was fifteen, which was sealed or he wouldn’t have that locksmith license. Guys from that juvenile-hall era are suspected of running a robbery ring. Cops think Andrew is hopping over here and unlocking doors for them. He’s been questioned by both Chicago and Indiana cops over the years, but no charges have been filed.”
“He got into trouble young and never got out of it,” Evie guessed.
David nodded. “Chicago cops are trying to track down those friends, but they aren’t getting much cooperation from any wives or girlfriends at home. They’re being warned not to tip Andrew off that cops are looking for him, yet as soon as the door closes, someone’s going for the phone. He’ll soon figure out he’s got a welcome waiting for him in Indianapolis.”
Evie glanced over as he brought up Tim Mets’s social-media page. “I doubt he’s heading home,” she said. “Remember Lynne’s quote? ‘It will be worth the long drive to see her.’ It’s future. That bothers me. I don’t think Lynne misquoted him, David. He drives from Indiana to see Maggie, misses her arriving at the event, misses her departure—maybe he’s not leaving town until he does see her.”
“Right,” David said, his voice grim. “We can cut off the avenues to Maggie. She’s not scheduled to make any public appearances, and we can lock down anybody with information about her home. But if we don’t get traction on him in the coming hours, maybe Maggie spends tonight somewhere else. For now, a security guy is on the grounds—and it’s a secure property. An address would get him only so far.”
David scrolled through the photos and postings on Mets’s page. “There’s nothing particularly recent; a photo from a soccer match last weekend is the latest. He’s a Maggie fan, all right—he’s got quite a collection of concert photos under a Triple M tab. But he’s also an ardent fan of what looks to be another half-dozen bands. He plays guitar, likes soccer . . . and is apparently rather vain given all the photos here of just him.”
Evie smiled at his light assessment. She sincerely hoped they weren’t still chasing this guy in a day or two. “It’s going to be hard to live with if we ID him, then lose him, all within twenty-four hours.”