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Luke got to the sheriff’s office long before his shift started.

Suiting up, he set aside his concerns about the story’s impact on Carrie and Vern.

I’ve got to solve my own crime, on my own time.

That Derek in LA was helping had given him a boost. But Luke still had more to pursue on his own. Alone in the patrol room, he logged on to his computer and continued his clandestine investigation.

The few minutes he’d had with Raylin Nash had yielded a bad vibe. Before leaving Nash’s property, Luke had memorized the plate on the Ram tow truck and was now running it. He got the man’s full name, Raylin Thurman Nash, from his registration. Then his driver’s licence, photo and particulars. Entering commands, he ran Nash through various data banks, then saw something that made him sit up straight.

He’d gotten a hit.

Nash was the subject of a protective order filed a year ago by Brenda Gwen Jones, his ex-wife. She’d alleged physical abuse, threats and harassment. The court ordered Nash to keep at least five hundred feet away from Jones, who resided in Sellron just north of town.

After thinking for a moment, Luke ran Brenda Gwen Jones’s name through the system. Obtaining her driver’s license, photo and address, he submitted her information to more data banks.

No complaints, no warrants, no record.

Clean as a whistle.

Luke then ran her name through the local, state and national systems for missing persons.

Nothing.

He got his phone, scrolling to the blurry clip of the construction site security video from the storm. His stomach tightened as the hazy shadow figure rose from the ditch.

No way to tell if that’s Brenda Gwen Jones.

No way, without technical help, to tell who it is.

Or was.

That was why he was counting on help from Derek Springer.

Derek was a tech wizard with the LAPD who’d played softball with Luke. When Derek’s nephew got into trouble, Derek reached out to Luke, who took the kid on a ride-along, giving him a hard look at where his life with gangs would end up. It worked, and Derek, an expert with facial recognition, pledged his allegiance.

Now Luke was calling in his favor. He’d sent Derek the fuzzy video of the woman rising from the ditch. For an instant, like a camera flash, she was illuminated from a car’s approaching headlights. It gave Luke hope that facial recognition might work. Maybe the mystery woman hadn’t been hurt badly and had somehow left the area. Or maybe she’d been under the influence. Maybe she fell out of a vehicle, or was fleeing a domestic situation, or was involved in a crime.

Or maybe she was abducted.

His pulse picked up a little.

Remember, another vehicle approached the scene.

Luke looked at the fuzzy footage of the figure in the storm. He would not allow her to become another ghost in his life; he would find her and help her, however long it took. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.

He cued up Nash’s face on his screen. There had to be a way to quietly keep digging deeper into this so he could end it. Luke considered how Nash’s property was adjacent to where he’d struck the woman—close to the new houses. Luke had seen new lumber and new power tools at Nash’s. But he claimed to have receipts from Lufkin. Still, there was that heap of old clothes, including some that were pink.

Is it enough for probable cause, enough to support a warrant? What if I linked it to the thefts at the new houses? But that’s Reeger’s case. Do I want to try that just yet?

Other deputies began arriving in the patrol room, so Luke closed his files, logging out of data banks.

“Hey, Luke,” Lonnie Welch said. “How about that story in the Chron . Everybody’s talking about it.”

Luke nodded as Lonnie went on.

“My cousin works at the IHOP across from the Chron and heard now NBC and CNN might be on the story. Did you hear that?”

“All I know is that Carrie’s getting a lot of calls from the press.”

“That story’s got so many details on the case,” Lonnie said, turning to Clay Smith and Garth Reeger.

“Carrie still can’t remember things?” Clay said.

“No,” Luke said. “It’s in the story.”

“That injury was a silver lining of sorts for her,” Reeger said, “wasn’t it?”

“What?” Luke said.

“Well, back then, they looked hard at her being the killer.” Reeger locked on to Luke with an icy stare.

Luke stared right back.

Reeger added: “The case was unsolved all this time, right up until after she moved back, and until Donnie Ray’s execution.”

Sensing tension, Clay intervened, saying: “But Hyde was a suspect and he confessed.”

“Whatever.” Reeger kept his eyes on Luke. “What I’d like to know is, what’re you doing in so early?”

“Excuse me?”

“Irene out front says you got in well before the shift. I’m curious.” Reeger indicated Luke’s computer. “What’re you up to? Why so early? No need to make an impression. You already got the job, son-in-law .”

“Wow,” Lonnie said.

“Back off, Garth,” Clay said.

Luke did not pull away from returning Reeger’s stare.

“I don’t report to you,” Luke said. “But if you have a pathological need to know, I was catching up on work, Garth.”

“Pathological?”

Luke said nothing.

Lonnie and Clay exchanged glances, unsure where this was going.

“I heard you stopped at Raylin Nash’s place,” Reeger said. “Are you still sticking your LAPD nose into my zone, on my investigation?”

Luke let a moment go by.

“Yes.”

The patrol room fell silent.

“I was patrolling my division,” Luke said. “I went home to get a form for personnel, then I had an idea.”

“You had an idea?”

“I stopped to check on something on Nash’s property, which, as you know, Garth, is close to where forty thousand dollars of material was stolen. In your zone. ”

The muscles in Reeger’s jaw bunched as he took a step toward Luke, who didn’t budge.

“Easy, Garth,” Clay said.

“Did you know,” Luke said, “Nash has a stack of new lumber and new power tools?”

“I checked it out. He bought it in Lufkin,” Reeger said. “You offend me.”

“I offend you?”

“I questioned Nash. He has receipts. I cleared him. Tell me, why the hell are you so fixated on my case!”

“Hey!”

All attention shifted to Sheriff Bob Ellerd watching from the edge of the patrol room.

“What’s going on here?”

No one spoke for several seconds.

“Well?” Ellerd said.

Reeger nodded to Luke. “The fortunate son here is interfering with my case.”

“Which case?”

“The stolen material from Fawn Ridge.”

“Is that true, Luke?”

With every eye in the patrol room on him, Luke had to think quick.

“You know we live near there, and I had an idea that could help Garth with his case.”

“What’s that?” Ellerd said.

“We could obtain information from cell phone towers close to Fawn Ridge, from around the time of the theft. Phones are always pinging from towers. It could help us identify which phones were in proximity at the time of the theft.”

Ellerd began nodding, saying: “Did you try that, Garth?”

“No, sir—it means getting a warrant.”

“I know that technique,” Ellerd said. “It’s effective.”

“The LAPD uses it,” Luke said, “to help pinpoint who was in a given area during shootings.”

Ellerd looked at Reeger. “Do you have any serious leads?”

“I’m working on it.”

Ellerd turned back to Luke.

“As I recall, you thought you’d encountered someone in a storm in that area, and you were calling hospitals? Could it have been someone scoping the construction site?”

Luke swallowed.

“Might’ve been.”

“In any case, I like your idea. We’ll try it,” Ellerd said. “Luke, help Garth write up our request to the judge for a warrant to get the information from the cell tower folks. I want it done by end of day.”

Reeger’s jaw dropped.

“You want to solve your case, don’t you, Garth?” Ellerd said.

Reeger said nothing.

“Good. Now, get to work, everybody.”