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“That’s great.”
Kobrinsky sighed. “So what fresh trouble are you going to cause today?”
She figured that meant she should tell him why she’d called. “I was just looking for an update on the hunt for Stan Tilley.” The other deputy had followed him last night, but quickly lost the speedy driver who turned out to be their shooter. She’d seen the deputy when he showed up at the motel to tell them that Stan had gotten away. It only got worse when they explained the background of how he wasn’t just a speeding ticket waiting to happen.
“Nada since last night,” Kobrinsky said. “And considering the sheriff wants an update when he gets out of court for lunch, you can bet I’ve got everyone out looking. And the state police.”
“Good.”
“Wanna help out?”
She figured it would be more beneficial for her to get out on foot than in a car. “Moving aimlessly, hoping to seehim? No, thanks.” She needed a more strategic plan than that or she would just end up frustrated if Stan didn’t approach her.
Did she want to be bait?
“State police found the gray compact you described,” Kobrinsky said. “Abandoned on the side of a street about five miles from the motel.”
“So looking for the car is a dead lead.”
“And if he’s changed his appearance,” Kobrinsky pointed out, “we won’t spot him easily.”
Kenna poured more coffee. “Nothing in the motel room suggested he does that regularly.”
Which meant if she saw him, she would recognize him. Especially now she knew it was Stan following her for the Walker. Considering his motel room had been burned, he would either lay low now or he would come after her. Hit back.
Enact the plan.
“Is Marion Wells still in holding?” Kenna wanted to know if she’d said anything about her deceased husband. She should also go talk to Bruce, the pastor, about the note he’d written and left on Forrest’s door. Despite the fact she had no leads on Stan, she didn’t have nothing to do.
“The sheriff didn’t want her transferred to the jail just yet. We might have questions.”
“And the file you were going to send me?” Bruce had given her that number. Along with his phone number.
“Right,” Kobrinsky said. “I’ve got to go see the coroner in a while about ID’ing that head. How about you come over and babysit the office. I’ll send it when I get back.”
So he was going to manipulate her into helping out. At least he was upfront about it. “Can I talk to Marion while I’m there?”
He chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“You could just let me go talk to the coroner. Then you don’t have to get coverage.”
“I’m going.”
“I heard she puked when she unwrapped the head,” Kenna said. “I’m guessing talking about the juiciness isn’t going to make her wanna say yes when you ask her out.”
“But I’m gonna walk in there with the crutches, all injured. She’ll have to help me with the door, and she’ll feel all sorry for me. Andthenshe’ll say yes.”
Kenna rolled her eyes, grinning. She wasn’t going to let him know she thought that might work. “Got it all figured out, don’t you?”
He chuckled again. “Worth a try.”
“All just to find out if the head belongs to Mr. Wells?”
“Might not be him. Though, I have no idea if he was the first victim, or if the first kidnapped girl might’ve been the first life Marion took. He might’ve been dead for longer than kids have been going missing, and the bag just preserved the head really well.”
Kenna knew who the first girl was—and she’d seen in the TV footage, and those impassioned pleas for her safe return how they’d felt about losing her. The police had the timeline, and Meri Santiago was the first taken, but she had yet to be identified. And she wasn’t from the local area, while the rest of the victims had been.
“What do you know of Mr. Wells?” Kenna asked. After all, the victim could have been another random male, and the husband was alive and well somewhere. Perhaps even with pertinent information on Marion.