Page 85 of Rocky Ride

Travis and Ted dropped by the Hoover property on the outskirts of Shelby to see how the forensic team was doing. At the door they put on gloves and booties, so they didn’t disturb anything.

“How are y’all making out so far?” asked Travis.

“The scene wasn’t untouched when we arrived, Sheriff, so we haven’t picked up much so far, but we have picked up a few traceelements that didn’t belong.” A tall girl in a white suit with Great Falls Labs emblazoned on the pocket did the talking.

“Can you give me a hint?” asked Travis. “I’ve got virtually nothing on this killer.”

“I might have something solid by the end of the day, but not yet. Sorry.”

Travis left a card for the girl to call him directly, and he and Ted headed back to the station.

Brentwood Estates. Nashville. Tennessee.

Mason followed the GPS west out of Nashville to the high-end trailer park where Bobby Prescott lived. While they cruised along, Annie caught glimpses of the beautiful Tennessee countryside.

“It’s lovely out here. All green and fertile. Bobby picked a pretty place to live.”

Mason smiled at her. He started having unfamiliar feelings for her the first time they’d met and thought they would fade away, but they hadn’t. Seeing her again and being with her for hours at a time made him come alive in a way that had never happened before.

“This looks like the place.”

“Fancy sign,” said Annie. “Expensive for a trailer park.”

Mason stopped at the estate office just inside the front gate. “Coming in?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good day,” said the older man behind the counter. “Something I can help you folks with?”

“Yes, there is.” Mason placed a picture of Bobby Prescott on the shiny granite counter and let the manager take a look.

“Rob Traynor. Excellent tenant. He lives at site number forty-two. Pleasant young man. His roommate, Ray, is also a very nice person. I believe they are both songwriters.” He laughed. “Theycame to live near Nashville hoping to sell their songs to the big country stars.”

Mason nodded. “I know how it is. Thank you.”

Back in the truck, Mason drove around the neatly kept park grounds while Annie watched for site number forty-two. A little wrought iron marker sat at the end of each driveway.

“Bobby must have had some funds,” said Mason. “This isn’t a cheap run-down trailer park.”

“He has money. A beautiful home in the Canadian Rockies and he owns another property in Midway, Texas. A successful trucker.”

“I wonder if there has been activity on either one of his properties,” said Mason. “There might be a paper trail to follow if he’s listed either of them for sale.”

“You’re right,” said Annie as she pointed. “There’s number forty-two.”

“No vehicle,” said Mason. “Turnbull would’ve called. Bobby probably paid him to do so.”

“He may have,” said Annie, “but Bobby is a rage killer. I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass for Turnbull’s chances after ratting Bobby out.”

“Should we go back to Turnbull’s garage and check on him?” asked Mason.

“Let’s go with a wellness check from Nashville PD," said Annie. “That should do it.”

“Yep,” said Mason. He waited for Annie to finish her call to the PD. “Ready to go inside?”

“I can tell from here we won’t find anything,” said Annie. “We should’ve cuffed J.T., tossed him in the load bed of your truck and brought him with us to prevent this from happening.”

Mason chuckled. “I’ve done that more than once.”

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