Page 62

Patrolling his zone in North Division, Luke’s radio crackled as dispatch cleared him for his lunch break.

He drove another five minutes along the highway, slowing at an aging building of weatherworn clapboard. The faded sign hanging from the awning identified it as The Bend in the Road. About a dozen trucks and service vans stood in the dirt lot, affirming its status as one of the best roadside diners in East Texas.

It was tucked in a heavily wooded rural corner amid a sprinkling of businesses, like Zeb Hock’s Filling Station and Sondra’s Handcrafted Saddles.

Luke went inside.

Deciding on takeout, he got in line and ordered a cheeseburger platter to go. Then he checked his phone and inserted his earpiece for his radio.

All quiet.

While waiting, his thoughts went to Carrie and his nagging guilt for failing to support her. Everything was taking a toll on her. And her recent coffee with her friend Opal had left her unsettled. But Carrie wouldn’t, or couldn’t , open up to him about it. Thank God she was still having remote sessions with her psychologist, because she was holding something in side. Maybe about the murders, or her dad, or something uncovered in the aftermath of the story.

He didn’t know what it was. She wouldn’t tell him.

“Twenty-one! Cheeseburger platter!” the man in the white apron called out. “Here you go, Deputy. Enjoy.”

Collecting his bag and soda, Luke returned to his patrol car for his personal laptop. He headed to the picnic tables, finding an isolated one in the shade at the edge of a dense woods, affording privacy.

Setting up, satisfied the connection was strong here, he cued up the enhanced image of the woman he’d struck and got to work as he ate.

Following Derek’s advice, he resumed his investigation as an amateur analyst, without the benefit of facial recognition technology. Manually, he checked her face against those in the online archives he had access to. Last night, after Carrie went to sleep, he’d stayed up working first on local databases of missing and wanted persons. He also checked the sex-offender registry.

Face after face smiled, stared or, at times, glowered back at him. But they were the wrong sex, race, age. They weren’t even close. His search had yielded nothing. That morning, he’d gotten up early and started again, branching out, checking the public records for Clear River police. Again, his results were negative.

Now at the picnic table, he was extending his search beyond Clear River and the county to every open-source site, starting with the neighboring county to the west, intending to work his way around the compass points. As he ate, he scanned as fast as he could.

Faces flowed, and as he eliminated them one by one, he came to realize the enormity of what he was attempting. Texas saw close to fifty thousand missing person reports filed every year. And Luke was working under the assumption his mystery woman was missing, or possibly wanted.

What if she doesn’t fall into one of those categories?

And he was searching without the aid of technology. It was a needle-in-a-haystack challenge. He had no choice about whether he would see this through. When he started, he’d had nothing but a blurred memory. But with the security video and Derek’s help, he now had a face. He was counting on Derek’s expertise, his sources, their access to a vast number of data banks to help him solve this mystery.

For now, the best he could do was keep searching.

And there was the cell tower warrant.

I have to believe I’m getting closer.

Closing his laptop, he collected his wrappers and soda can into the bag, dropped it in the trash, then headed for his patrol car.

Walking across the lot, Luke was unaware that for the entire time he sat alone at the picnic table, he’d been watched through high-powered binoculars. They were held by a person in a vehicle that had pulled off the earthen back road bordering the dense forest strip.

Aimed strategically and focused, the long-range binoculars allowed them to observe Luke and his surroundings clearly.

Even the screen of his laptop.