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“I suppose I had that one coming,” she tossed back.

“Our missing reporter,” he went on, grateful for the reprieve, “came to me last week. He’d been here, and I guess Owens made a comment that led Baker to believe he was hiding something. He wasn’t real clear on the details. Anyway, I came that same day and talked to Owens. Most of this,” he gestured to the wall, “was not here then. There were a couple of articles from the local paper. Nothing else. Anyway, he talked the same stuff most of the folks who believe in alien abductions spout. The stuff he sees on television or reads.” He nodded to a pile of books and magazines on the floor at the head of the stack of mattresses that served as a bed.

“What now?” Vee turned to him.

“I get forensics to do their magic, and we see from there.”

“They’ll find my prints,” she said. “I had a look around after I called you.” She shrugged. “He appeared to be down for the count, and Iwanted to see if there was anything hidden that might be useful to the investigation.”

“We usually get a warrant for that sort of thing,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, well, I felt there were exigent circumstances. For all I knew, he’d OD’d on something. In that situation it’s always helpful if the medical staff knows what they’re dealing with when they get the call.”

“Works for me.” Bent eyed her cautiously. “Did you find anything?”

“No cell phone.” She shook her head. “No drugs. No nothing. Not even a business card from Baker, which I totally expected to find.”

Bent figured if she was keeping anything from him, she would tell him eventually. “While we wait for Conover to arrive, we could have a look around the yard before it gets too dark?”

“Good idea.”

Outside, he grabbed flashlights from his truck, handed his extra one to Vee. They started with the vehicles parked out front. He’d had a look in those when he came last week, but a follow-up wouldn’t hurt. The trunk on the car was held closed with a bungee cord. Same as last week—nothing but trash inside. A plastic gas can and a couple of bags of trash were piled in the bed of the truck.

“I’ll have Conover’s people go through all the trash,” Bent mentioned. If he was going to waste resources, he might as well do it right.

“Someone’s going to love that detail.” She looked toward Bent. “I’ve been assigned to it plenty of times myself.”

“You don’t know dirty details,” he warned, “until you go through the army’s basic training.”

“You win,” she agreed.

Vee was the only reason he’d survived those weeks and then the years that followed. Knowing that he’d done the right thing by Evelyn Boyett’s daughter had gotten him through. He’d owed Vee’s mother that. The woman had been far too good to Bent for him to risk ruining her daughter’s life.

Vera Boyett had done well for herself. He was grateful to have her in his life again.

Bent forced his mind back onto the task at hand as they picked through the discarded appliances. They found nothing, so they moved on to the backyard. There was an old shed. Bent had looked inside it as well when he was here before. Owens had been completely agreeable to a thorough walk-through of his property. But the shed had been empty. No trash in there, which, looking back, Bent felt might have been a little suspicious, given the condition of the rest of the place. Could have been for no other reason than Owens being too lazy to walk that far to dump anything.

The last of the daylight was fading into the treetops as they reached the shed. It was one of the less expensive metal ones. Maybe eight by ten, with a few decades of rust showing. He slid the doors apart with an annoying screech and roamed the beam of his flashlight over the interior.

Not empty this time.

There was a sleeping bag, a couple of empty water bottles, and the wrappers from snack crackers and chip bags.

Vee crouched down at the door for a closer inspection of the ground. There was no floor in the old shed. It sat directly on the dirt.

“Well, well,” Bent noted, “looks like Owens has had some company. Maybe one of his junkie friends or a supply source who stepped on the wrong toes.”

Since the shed didn’t have a lock, they could assume whoever had been here wasn’t being held against his or her will.

“This wasn’t here last week?” she asked.

“It was not.” Bent put his flashlight under his arm and tugged on gloves before stepping inside. He picked up the sleeping bag by one corner and gave it a shake. An object tumbled out and hit the ground.

Vee’s flashlight highlighted the item before Bent’s. Black. Cell phone.

He picked it up, and the screen lit with a series of notifications, which included several calls and text messages fromMomand someone designated asLR. He showed the screen to Vee.

“That has to be Nolan’s phone,” she said without even touching it, her gaze colliding with Bent’s. “LR is probably the boyfriend.”