Page 25 of Scorched

Taking her cue, the young brunette hurried to the pot of coffee warming at the counter and collected a clean cup. She returned to their table and smiled at Paul. “You’re new around here.” She set the mug in front of him and poured steaming, fragrant coffee into it. “Need to see a menu?”

He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until she’d asked. “No, thanks. I’ll have two eggs over-medium and wheat toast.”

She nodded without taking down a word he spoke. “That’s what I like, a man who knows what he wants.”

The sheriff’s chuckle followed her retreating form. “Mandy’s a pretty little thing. Watch out, though. She’s tough. Comes from hardy stock. Her parents own a small Angora goat ranch in the hill country near Sisterdale.”

Paul’s gaze followed the pretty Mandy, but his thoughts kept to a certain blonde he’d wanted more than anything to keep kissing last night. “Thanks for the recommendation. But I’m not interested.” He leaned back against the slick vinyl seat and sipped his coffee. “What can you tell me about Alice Lauren Pendley?”

The sheriff’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “Lauren was a good kid. Grew up here in Breuer, member of the 4-H club, graduated from University of Texas at San Antonio two years ago.” He shook his head, his gaze directed toward the window. “Her parents were so proud. Neither one had ever been to college. Hardworking folks, always looking out for others. It’s a damned shame. And Lauren was engaged to be married next spring.”

Paul listened, waiting for the sheriff to get to the pertinent details of the murder investigation.

“Her mother called us the night before last when she didn’t come home from work.”

“Where did she work?”

“At the drugstore. She wanted to go to pharmacy school next fall. Had her acceptance and everything.”

“Did anyone see her leave?”

“The manager walked her to her car every night. Only he was off that night. She left by herself. No one saw her get into her car.”

“Is there a security camera for the parking lot?”

“Already checked it. The manager insisted the cameras were aimed at the guest parking up front and the employee parking in the rear of the building. Again, not that night. We don’t know if the wind or someone with killing on his mind shifted the camera to point at the treetops, but that’s all that was on the recording from eight o’clock that night until we confiscated the video at eight the next morning.”

Paul leaned forward. “How do you know the shift happened at eight?”

“We watched from the time Lauren got to work until she was scheduled to leave. We could see the camera shift around eight o’clock.”

“Fingerprints on the camera?”

The sheriff shook his head. “Not a one. But we found a brick close by and a dent in the camera casing. We did the math. It wasn’t the wind.”

“Could you trace the brick?”

“It was from the stack in Mrs. Veatch’s backyard behind the drugstore.” The sheriff looked up as Mandy delivered their plates.

Steam rose from the sheriff’s fried bacon and sausage, sending waves of tempting aromas toward Paul. His own eggs and toast didn’t seem quite as appealing as the plate of heart attack the sheriff planned to consume. “Did you review the indoor videos for customers entering and leaving around eight that night?”

“We’ve gone over and over the video. Neither the officers nor the store employees recognized most of the customers.”

“This is a small town. Wouldn’t you know a majority of the people here?” Paul took up his fork, suddenly ravenous, his stomach aching for nourishment.

“We’re small, but we get a lot of transients from the interstate who come in for over-the-counter medications.” The sheriff shrugged. “Short of questioning all the hotel clerks and RV park attendants about whether or not they’ve seen the people in that clip before, I don’t have much to go on.”

Paul set his cup on the table. “What about the crime scene? Did the state crime lab process it?”

“Yeah, they had a team come in and comb over the area. Because of the lack of rain, the river’s way down. Heck, it’s more like a creek. The girl didn’t float far from where he dumped her in the water.”

“Any footprints?”

“No. The guy was careful. He obviously knew to cover his tracks. The Ethernet was standard cable used by just about everyone in the industry. No tracks, no witnesses. He did it by the books, leaving no traces.”

How did he catch a killer who didn’t want to be caught? A man trying to make a point with Elise. He had to be in on the ground level with the sheriff’s office, investigating alongside Breuer’s finest to ensure no stone remained unturned. Something their less experienced eyes might miss, he might pick up on. “Do you want the FBI’s help on this one?”

The sheriff stared across the table at Paul. “I don’t want the FBI taking over our case, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

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