Page 34 of Forgotten Path
She fished an evidence bag out of her own pocket and handed it to him. He smoothed the plastic to flatten it and read the words on the scrap of paper. He recognized the handwriting as Joel’s, but the meaning was a bit of a mystery:50k. Blood $. Greater good? WWBD?
The officer watched him digest the note. “Do you need to take that, too?”
“No. But I’d like to take a picture of it. Through the bag, don’t worry,” he added, even though Officer Green didn’t seem to be overly worried about the chain of evidence. But then, why would she be? She wanted to believe Joel’s death was an accident.
“Sure thing.”
He took out his phone, pulled up the camera app, and snapped a few shots of the note. Before stowing the device back in his pocket, he noticed that he had three voicemails. He said goodbye to the police officer and walked down to the dock, where he found a bench and sat down to listen to his messages.
Mirabelle Owens, the county medical examiner, had called to invite him to attend Joel’s autopsy at 8:00 AM sharp tomorrow morning. Chief Rodman had called to express his condolences and assure Bodhi that the Oyster Point Police Department was at his disposal. And Felicia had left a message that said simply, ‘Call me.’
He returned the third call first.
“Hey, how are you doing?” Her voice was full of concern.
“I’m okay. You?”
“Still in shock, I think,” she admitted. “But it’s the kind of shock that propels a person into a whirlwind of activity. I have an update for you.”
“What’ve you got?”
“My friend at the Department of Transportation sent over footage of Joel’s Jeep rolling through Snapper Creek. The car came through shortly before nine PM on Friday evening. The driver was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. It’s impossible to tell if they’re male, female, young or old.”
“Ethnicity?”
“Probably White. But no guarantees. It’s not the greatest video quality. Whoever they are, they’re definitely short. But we knew that.”
“Nobody in the passenger seat?”
“Nope.”
He thought for a minute. “Presumably, the driver had a chase car, right? They had to get back to Oyster Point somehow.”
“Maybe. Or they caught a ride share to the airport and left the country. I mean, there’s no reason to assume they’re in Oyster Point, is there?”
“I suppose not. It just feels …” he trailed off. He wasn’t sure why he was sure the driver had returned to Oyster Point, but he was.
“What?”
“You’re right. I don’t know. Could you have someone trace the plates on the half dozen or so cars that preceded and followed the Jeep through the travel plaza?”
“Sure. It’ll take a while, but we might as well be thorough.”
“Thanks. Anything else?”
“I had Raven pull all the medico-legal files from the past eighteen months.”
“What are you thinking?”
“If Joel was about to testify in a criminal homicide or manslaughter case—or if he recently did and put someone away—they could have a motive to kill him.”
He nodded. He’d been on the receiving end of more than a few death threats in an effort to keep him from testifying; it was more than likely Joel had been, too. “It’s a possibility. Did anyone jump out?”
“No. But I’m still going to talk to the prosecutors assigned to the cases. You never know. Do you think someone killed him?”
“I can’t say for sure. Dr. Owens invited me to attend the autopsy in the morning. I might know more after that,” he hedged.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
