Page 68 of Hidden Nature

“Come in first. Let me get your coat.”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it. I know the rules.”

The visit brightened her day a little more.

At six-five, her father’s oldest friend, Travis Hamm, hung his parka in the closet, tucked his uniform hat in with it.

Then stood, giving her a long study out of eyes the color of faded denim.

“You cut off your hair.”

“Impulse. I’m getting used to it.”

“Well, you’re looking a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

“I sure hope so. Sit down. I’ll get you coffee.”

“No, you sit, too. I’ve already had a gallon of it today. Where’s Mop?”

“He’s job dog today. Mom had to drive me down to Hagerstown for my two-week follow-up, and Dad decided to take him along.”

“How’d that go, the follow-up?”

“Not bad.”

He sat, stretched out endless legs, crossed his big feet at their booted ankles. “Your dad told me what happened on Thanksgiving. I was sorry to hear it.”

“It’s healing up. I’m healing up. Hey, if I don’t screw anything up, I can start using five-pound weights next week. I’m nearly up to a mile and a half round trip on walks outside.

“And I’ve crocheted two scarves. Now I’m making this.”

She held up a long strip of soft white wool.

“What is it?”

“It’s going to be a baby blanket.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Got something to tell me?”

She laughed, and that still hurt a little. “Not for me. You know Joel—he and Sari are having a baby next spring.”

“Good for them. Good for you, too.”

“I’ve been bored brainless, Cap. Fighting off the bitchy with it. This helps with both. Tell me what’s happening, what you’ve got going. I was thinking of calling and asking you about the Janet Anderson investigation.”

“I wish I had good news on that. Or any, really. We assisted in the search, but it’s not our case. I’ve gotten updates. No trace of her. Nothing. The family’s put up a reward. Twenty-five thousand for bringing her home. They’ve done interviews, made statements pleading for whoever took her—and there’s no doubt that’s what happened at this point—to let her go.”

“I’ve followed what I can. The husband looks sick, devastated.”

“They were married just over a year, together for three. Saved up, bought a nice little house. Everybody who knew them—family, friends, neighbors, coworkers—says they were crazy about each other. No pissed-off exes on either side, no trouble, no nothing.

“She drove to the grocery store. The investigator figured she went for butter because she had a recipe out and didn’t have enough in stock. And nobody saw a damn thing.”

“Somebody’s holding her, sold her, or she’s already dead.”

His eyes on Sloan’s, Travis nodded. “That’s the hard truth. I wish I could say different.”

“What about other abductions in the area? Her age group?”

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