Page 24

At two o’clock his phone wakes him.

It’s Gibson.

“Give me some good news, George.”

“I would if I could.” Gibson sounds beat.

“The truck is clean.

I’m going home while I can still keep my eyes open.”

Jalbert is sitting bolt upright in bed.

“Nothing? Are you kidding?”

“I never kid after midnight.”

“Did you put it on the lift? Did you check the undercarriage?”

“Don’t tell your granny how to suck eggs, Frank.”

Gibson sounds on the verge of losing his temper.

Jalbert should stop.

He can’t stop.

“He washed it, didn’t he? Son of a bitch washed it and probably had it detailed.”

“Not lately, he didn’t.

There’s still plenty of dirt on it from his trip out to Gunnel.

No traces of bleach in the cab or the truck bed, either.”

Jalbert expected more.

He expected something.

He really did.

Gibson says, “Finding fingerprints, hair, an item of her clothing… that would’ve been ideal, the gold standard, but it doesn’t mean he didn’t have her.

He either did an ace cleaning job inside or—”

“Or she was never in the truck at all.” Jalbert is hatching a headache and getting back to sleep is probably going to be out of the question.

“He could have used some other vehicle to transport her.

He’s got a girlfriend in that trailer park.

Maybe he used her car.

If he doesn’t confess, we may have to—”

“There’s a third possibility,” Gibson says.

“What?” Jalbert snaps.

“He could be innocent.”

Jalbert is amazed to silence for a few seconds.

Then he laughs.