Threads of Suspicion(37)

If you were a stranger, but had the license, there was no need to follow her home. You could get there ahead of her, study the neighborhood, decide where you would park, how you would get away after the crime.

It fits the case. She tapped the pencil against her notepad as she thought it through.

If there were a lot of missing licenses around that time, it pointed to a crime ring involved in identity theft. But a smattering of licenses lifted, someone was hunting information for a type of girl, would only pursue it if where she lived looked like a reasonable place to wait for the victim’s return.

Evie started making phone calls, glad some officers were still at their desks. She asked for missing licenses in the years around Jenna’s disappearance—those reported stolen, those replaced as lost. Cops would have pursued this back then, and the records they pulled at the time should be in the electronic archives. Yet it never hurt to request records a second time.

David came in, carrying coat and gloves. He paused by her desk as she hung up the phone. “You’ve got something. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Her driver’s license was missing from her wallet.”

He considered that statement, grinned. “Another one of those key facts leading to an answer has just landed. You don’t have the name yet, but it’s there. It’s sitting just out of sight.”

“I think you’re right. He trolls concerts for girls he likes, or knows ones from campus who share his love of music, lifts their drivers’ licenses to scope out where they live, and acts when he thinks he can get away with the crime. Music is his thing, his passion, and that’s going to give him up.”

“When’s your next interview, or are you done for the night?”

She glanced at her list. “Ten minutes. Then another in an hour and a half.”

“Come take a walk after this next interview, divert for half an hour so your brain can let it simmer there for a bit.”

She smiled at his suggestion. “Sure, I could use a break. But I’m bundling up like an Eskimo for this walk and hanging on to you. These are dress boots, not for hiking. And from the looks of you, snow is coming down again.”

David smiled. “Maggie’s not the jealous type. We’ll find hot chocolate or something. You owe me the story of your guy, since I’ve told you mine and Maggie’s.”

“Rob Turney. My guy.” She saved them some time and punched in the website for the firm where he worked, brought up his bio. “Read. I’ll never get the job details right,” she said, motioning toward the screen.

David came around the desk, started reading. “You’re hanging out with ambition of its own kind,” David mentioned as he finished.

“He’s kind of like Ann. He keeps introducing me to famous people in business and finance, but I don’t have a clue who they are, what they do, why I should know them.”

David laughed.

“He’s a dealmaker. That’s what I think best describes him. And he’s trying to close the deal on marrying me.”

“I wondered,” David said with a smile.

“Yeah. It’s kind of nice and also kind of awkward—his parents don’t think I’m good enough for him. He does. And I’ve stumbled into realizing I care more about their view of me than I probably should.”

“Finish this next interview, then we’ll walk, find hot chocolate. You need to shift over from figuring out a case to figuring out your life. And I just need a break. They were good interviews, but it all needs to meld for a while.”

“If only solving my life was that simple.”

He tapped the pad of paper on her desk. “Where’s the sheet with the two columns outlining your personal decision?”

“I’d have a lousy time living with myself if I reduced it to yes-or-no columns.”

“It’s how you think, Evie. Sometimes putting it on paper is what digs up the truth so you can look at it squarely.”

He had a point. The alarm on her phone sounded. Her next interview with the boss of Jenna’s boyfriend at the newspaper shouldn’t take long. “Give me a few and then let’s go for that walk.”



Evie finished her notes as David reappeared in the doorway. “Learn anything useful?” he asked, putting on his coat.

“Jenna did some work for the newspaper—student opinion pieces, that kind of thing—published under ‘Anonymous.’ They sourced out various subjects to different students. I’ll be able to read more of her own words now that I know which articles she authored.”

She bundled up, scarf over her lower face, and they headed out. The street was well lit. David pointed to a coffee shop on the next corner. “So tell me more about Rob.”