Traces of Guilt

FIVE

Gabriel Thane

The post office lights were on, but Ann’s rental car was gone. The yellow convertible still sat on the street where Gabriel had parked it. He tapped on the door glass, pleased to see Evie had locked herself in.

Evie came over to unlock the door. “Dinner,” he said by way of a casual greeting, nodding to the two sacks he carried. “Sorry I’m later than I intended.”

“No problem. How about over there?” She pointed to a free table.

“Ann get away okay?”

“Yes. She’ll call when she’s home.”

He unpacked the disposable plates and utensils he’d brought and set out the meal. Ann’s wall was mostly as he had seen it earlier, while Evie’s wall had grown considerably in details. “You’ve been busy.”

“First day game plan-get set up.”

“What’s day two?”

“Shove case details in my mind until they leak out.”

Gabriel smiled at Evie’s description. He began to walk through the Florist crime wall, reviewing the photos, the timeline. He paused at the end to review her list of questions. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or impressed,” he said, “that you want my alibi for the night they went missing.” She’s not messing around.

“Someone in the department. Someone in the county. Maybe job-related-a person Florist arrested. Or it was a family thing.”

Gabriel knew he was a good cop, thought of himself that way, but she said it so casually. Someone in the department… Or it was a family thing. It felt hard to breathe.

He turned toward her and found her watching him steadily. He pushed his hands into his back pockets. “You’re right. But those aren’t casual categories.”

“Going to get protective, Gabriel?”

He thought about the missing deputy, his wife and son. He let out a huff of air. “No. You ask your questions. That’s why you’re here.”

“Was he having an affair? Was she?”

Gabriel simply grimaced. “I’d say no, but we’ll check it again. You don’t mince words.”

“I don’t like wasting time. If this was a typical case, it would have been solved by now. In order to discover what someone else didn’t see, I’ve got to come at it from as many hard angles as I can find.”

This wasn’t going to be a casual look at the case, a simple review of what others had done, but cutting through that work to discover what others had missed. “Evie, I think you’re going to wear the department out over these next couple of weeks.”

Her eyes glinted with humor. “You’ll all survive me, Gabriel.” She turned back to the table. “Let’s eat.”

Gabriel dished out fried rice onto his plate, sampled it, added extra soy sauce. Evie, digging into the honey cashew chicken, asked, “Tell me about the Florist case.”

He glanced over and was glad to see she’d found her appetite. He gave her the summary from his point of view: “Twelve years ago, the Florist family left their home on a Thursday evening in August for a three-day camping trip with friends. They never arrived. Vanished somewhere between here and the campground located at the north end of Carin Lake, a distance of about thirty miles. Their friends notified the police just after seven o’clock Friday morning when they still hadn’t arrived and calls went unanswered. Police found nothing at the house, found no sign of the truck they were driving or the camper they were towing along the possible routes they might have taken. They simply disappeared-a deputy, his wife, and their eleven-year-old son. A massive search and parallel investigation began, with hundreds of officers involved. It generated no answers to the mystery.”

“That’s what interests me the most, Gabriel. Three people vanish, and the case remains unsolved. It’s got me more than curious.”

“Having known them, the words I’d use are sad, mad…”

“Point taken.”

Gabriel set down his fork, shook his head. “Your objectivity will be an asset, Evie, and I shouldn’t knock it. Most who have worked this case over the years come to it with perspectives of having known one or all three of them, or they know their family members in the area.”

“I can appreciate this case is personal for all of you,” Evie replied. “I truly don’t mean to sound distant or cold about them. Talk to me about the family. I’d like to know how you remember them.”

From the years of thinking about this case, Gabriel could recall them as clearly today as when he’d last seen them twelve years ago. “Susan May Florist was a part-time bank teller. She also worked a day a week at the local bakery icing cakes. I’d see her at department picnics, baseball games. She had a nice laugh and a kind heart. She always made a point of asking about the Thanes.” He sipped at his soda, glanced over at the photos on the wall.

“Their son was into baseball. Joseph Patrick Florist-everyone called him Joe-was a good kid, polite, curious, fascinated by what his dad did, still young enough to hold a bit of hero worship for his father. I tossed around a ball with him, took him fishing a couple of times. I knew him enough to like him.

“Scott Simon Florist worked a civilian job at the courthouse for several years before deciding he wanted to join our police force. He entered the academy older than most, joined the PD as a patrol officer, wanted to become a detective and put in the work to get there. He was a smart man, a good cop. I didn’t work directly with him, since he mostly partnered with Phil Peters, but our paths would cross in the break room, at training classes, sometimes at the firing range. He had a reputation for being careful with the details. And he was good with kids. A fifteen-year-old got picked up for vandalism, Scott would take the case, nail down the details, and figure out if there was something going on at school or home before he wrote up the report. He’d take the extra time. I respected the guy.

“Susan and Scott were married for fourteen years. That was one of the saddest parts of the investigation. Looking at who might have wanted to cause them problems, going through their personal lives, talking with friends and family, seeing what a strong marriage they had, knowing they could have been one of those rare ‘married for fifty happy years’ newspaper profiles one day. Instead, they became a case number.”

“What do you think happened to them?” Evie asked, propping her elbows on the table.

He shook his head rather than try to answer. “I’ve stopped trying to guess.”

“My experience Saturday with the deer,” she said, “makes me wonder if they had a similar experience. Did they hit a deer? Need to stop for repairs because the vehicle or camper got banged up? It takes them off the route they’re traveling to deal with repairs, it’s the middle of the night, maybe they pull into the wrong place at the wrong time and encounter trouble.”

“I don’t remember a theory of them hitting a deer ever being addressed. It’s a place to start,” Gabriel agreed, interested in the idea if only because it was a new avenue. She’d been thinking about that possibility, while the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind, despite his having been there to help after her accident. He mentally chalked up a point for Evie. She was doing the job better than he at the moment. He planned to catch up.

“Fresh ideas, Gabriel. New ways to look at what’s here. I’ll do what I can to find things we should consider.” She nodded toward the boxes. “You’ve been through these files many times. Give me the highlights.”

She likes working cases, Gabriel thought, seeing how she’d relaxed. She was engaged, working on something that mattered, and comfortable with the job. “Let’s start at the core of it,” he began. “Since the day the Florist family disappeared, there’s been no activity on their credit cards, bank accounts, savings or checking. No one at the time it happened tried to get money out of their accounts before we realized there was a problem. The credit cards didn’t expire for four years, and the accounts were deliberately left open. No one came across a wallet or purse and tried to use the cards later.

“Since the day they disappeared, there has been no contact with family members or friends. The Florist family had strong ties to the larger community. Things were stable financially, marriage solid, no hidden vices surfaced such as alcohol, drugs, or gambling. They left behind all they owned, along with two pets-a dog and a cat, which they had arranged for a neighbor to look after. These aren’t the type of people to try to skip out on unpaid debts, for example, or to get clear of a family dispute.” He hesitated. “Combined, those facts suggest they were murdered,” he concluded. “Questions so far?”

Evie shook her head. “Go on.”

“The bodies of three people are hard to hide well enough they don’t eventually get found. If you leave all three in a vehicle, park it somewhere, the bodies are going to be found. Maybe they end up in a landfill in the first couple days, but that doesn’t happen as often as the TV shows imply, and three of them disposed of that way unnoticed is tough to fathom. Maybe in a body of water, but it would need to be one not churned up frequently, not often fished, otherwise something gets brought to the surface.

“A burial is likely in the countryside, but not crop land-they would have been discovered as the ground was tilled and replanted, the soil turned over. We’re looking for wooded land that doesn’t have terrain torn up that often by floodwaters. And the graves would have taken some time to dig in order to be deep enough so that wildlife wouldn’t dig up the remains. Hunters would have found bones had the graves been disturbed. We’ve had some extremely wet and dry years over the last decade and that breaks up the ground surface.”

He shook his head. “Other possibilities: access to a funeral home, a crematorium. But the more likely answer is land you control, land in which you buried the bodies, hiding the evidence of your crimes on your own property. But should ownership change, the bodies are there, ready to point right at you.

“It’s equally time-consuming and difficult to make vehicles disappear. No one’s tried to get insurance on their truck’s VIN number, so the truck probably wasn’t found by a third party or sold to anyone. An abandoned camper of the make and model of theirs hasn’t turned up either. Someone could have stripped the vehicles down to parts and done so out of sight. Or they found a way to dispose of them-a junkyard crusher, a body of water, an abandoned gravel pit. Or they’re still sitting undiscovered in a barn somewhere under a tarp, most likely on land owned and controlled by the one who did the crime.

“So,” Gabriel said, taking a deep breath, “that means we have no crime scene. We don’t know where whatever happened occurred. At the start of their journey, at their home, during their travels on one of the roads or at a stop along the way, or if it happened near or at their destination.

“The reason for the crime is also unknown. We don’t know if this was personal-if the deputy and his family were targeted and the camping excursion was an opportunity to act. We don’t know if the focus was the vehicles more than the people or if one of them was the target. We don’t know of related crimes in progress, where grabbing this family might have been a part of an ongoing escape.” Just saying all this out loud left a hollow feeling inside him. Gabriel forced himself to finish. “We know some things that did not occur, rather than much, if anything, about what did happen. It’s a painful position to be in.”

Evie shook her head, her expression showing strong disagreement with his last statement. “You’ve spent twelve years eliminating things, Gabriel, and that’s progress. What’s left, however improbable, is going to be the answer.”

All he saw was a case that had gone cold-it needed a new discovery like bones to move it forward again. But maybe she could see something he didn’t. “I don’t know where a person even begins on something like this, Evie.”

“The map you brought me.” She pointed to the wall where she’d taped it. “I’ll fly over the area with Ann this week so it’s better fixed in my mind. They were driving from their home at the south end of Carin Lake to the state park thirty miles north. The lake inlets fork there, where the eagles have nested. That campground is still in Carin County?”

“It is.”

“Then let’s assume for now that the person who did whatever this is also lives in Carin County.”

“Okay.”

“You concluded in the summary you just recounted that the family was murdered.”

“Yes.”

“Murder is a violent act, the killing of a child even more horrendous than an adult murder. Let’s start by looking for the person who could do such a thing.”

He was startled by that definitive statement. “How?”

“You know who lives here. I want a list of the people you would consider violent. Then I want you to cross off those who are unlikely to be the one to kill a child. How many people in Carin County could murder three people, one of them a child? A hundred? Fifty? Less? I bet you know this person.

“Who did you think was a violent adult when you were a boy growing up here? Who do you still think today is violent? Who on that list has moved away? A domestic disturbance call, a drug arrest, a bar fight, an assault complaint that involved someone on your list. Cops have bumped into the violent ones who live in Carin. Because the case is twelve years ago, you’ll need your father to contribute a list too. Violence often runs in families-the father may be on his list, the son on yours.”

Gabriel nodded at the reasoning behind her request. “It will take some time, but I can do that. After we get our lists together, we’ll see which ones have alibis for that Thursday evening, Friday morning.”

“We could do that. But I was thinking more along the lines of asking those people who they think is capable of killing the Florist family. If you want to find a particular kind of violent man, Gabriel, you ask violent ones who know him. This person could appear controlled but have that snap to his fury. People around him will know that about him. It won’t necessarily be the hothead your deputy might have worried about on sight, though it might be someone who’s related. The person we want is violent, likely told someone a detail or two, or had a partner. There’s a rumor out there. Someone knows something useful. I’d like you to focus on finding that rumor or name. That’s your strong suit. You know this county and its residents. Start there.”

Gabriel could see merit to that strategy. “Okay, while I focus on violent citizens around Carin County, what’s your target?”

“Motive. Were the deputy and family a chance encounter or were they targeted? If it’s random, there’s nothing for me to find. But if it’s this family specifically, either one or all three of them, then something happened that made the person we’re looking for say, ‘I’m going to harm the Florist family.’ I want to find the trigger event. You find the person who could do this. I’ll find the reason he did.”

Gabriel looked over the boxes stacked behind her, filled with interviews, reports, notes. She was trying to recreate something fresh from the information, a new way of looking at the data. “I understand where you’re coming from-if you find a motive, it moves this case a leap forward. But you’ve given yourself a hard assignment.” He glanced at the crime wall, the questions listed there. “What about the idea they hit a deer?”

She shrugged. “I’ll multitask. I assume someone in the county picks up dead animals by the side of the road. A deer is probably going to get a mention in a daily report. You have an archive of that kind of paperwork?”

“We throw stuff away only when we run out of room to store it, so yes, that paperwork is probably still buried in the archives. Stop by the office and I’ll point you in the right direction.”

“Thanks. If there’s a violent man who works nights at a garage on the route they would have traveled, put a red circle around him.”

Gabriel smiled. “You really think there’s a way to reexamine this case, put it together differently, and find an answer?”

“Yes. I do. It’s all about context, Gabriel. How many cases actually remain unsolved because of lack of evidence? You said it yourself-the bodies could be buried on land the person owns, the vehicles under a tarp in a barn on the property. I think the evidence no one has found thus far-the vehicles, the bodies-is still sitting out there and waiting to be discovered.

“Give me names of violent people in Carin County capable of murdering three people, one a kid, and give me who on that list owns property. If they killed twelve years ago, it’s probable they killed someone else in the years before or after that. Think about the person who could have done this and see if their behavior over the last dozen years raises flags. Cases solve when you can get a thumbnail under a corner of the answer and peel it back.”

“Optimism is your middle name, Evie.”

She nodded. “Gabriel, think about this. You see these intervening years as an obstacle to solving the case. I see it as an opportunity. The person who did the crime has had all this time to show us his true colors. Maybe it wasn’t obvious at the time, but now, looking at him today? I bet it’s obvious he’s got a violent streak. There’s that Bible verse about things in the dark not staying hidden. A person’s true colors show over time. Take advantage of the extra information the last twelve years have created. His friends back then are probably not his friends anymore. Someone knows him, can tell us, ‘I think Jerry did it.’ The more years pass, the more some people get annoyed with each other, drift apart, find old tensions simmering. The former friend who will now give him up is a powerful investigative tool.”

She tilted her head slightly. “It’s not simply this crime, you know-you can find him by a general pattern he leaves in his wake. Violence rarely limits itself to a single type of assault. Who was showing up at school with bruises? What woman has shown up at the hospital or clinic with signs of being hit? Who was self-medicating with alcohol? If he’s in the community, others are brushing up against him every day. Who were people afraid of back then? Who are people afraid of today? Sometimes that question points to the right direction.”

Gabriel found himself making mental notes as he listened to Evie, not so much about the case itself but about how she was thinking. He let himself relax. Maybe they would end up after these weeks with no results, but she was right. They could work on the ones around the person they wanted to identify. “Thanks for the fresh perspective. It’s useful. I’ll look for a name of someone who might have done this. You look for a motive. One of us might get lucky.”

“Luck is mostly perspiration.” She nodded again at the boxes. “As helpful as those files will be, it’s not likely going to be enough to find my motive. I’m going to need some time in the archives. I want to understand what was happening in the town and around the county in the weeks and months leading up to the family’s disappearance.”

“You’re not a woman of small ambitions. Or maybe it’s better stated you’re a small woman of large ambitions?”

She grinned. “I like either one. I could use that stenciled on a sign in my office. Seriously, Gabriel, if this wasn’t random, then something happened before their disappearance to trigger a decision to harm the Florist family. I’m not going to find that something in the notes about the search, though maybe an item in an interview will point back to it. More likely it’s in a separate police report filed in the months or even years before the family disappeared.”

“You’re welcome to browse through the archives,” he repeated. He nodded to her left. “Hand me that pad of paper. I can start listing names of violent people from memory. Would a phone call bother you? I’d like to give my father a call and have him start doing the same.”

“Go ahead. For the rest of this evening I’m reading until I can’t see straight.”

He glanced at the other wall. “You want to talk about the Dayton girl’s disappearance?”

“Tuesday will be soon enough, when Ann is back in town.”

He nodded and dialed a number. “Dad, I have a question for you.” He pushed away from the table and walked across the room as he explained what he needed.

Evie Blackwell

Gabriel got called away by dispatch, and shortly thereafter two deputies came over carrying more boxes. Evie got up to let them in, pointed where to stack them. “Could I ask you a question?” she asked when they’d made their deliveries.

“Sure,” the nearest deputy replied.

“You know what’s in the boxes. What do you think about the State Police coming in to look into the Florist case?”

“Meaning you, ma’am?” He looked at the wall, the timeline she was creating of the crime, then at his partner, then back at her. “Way we heard it from Marissa, who heard it from Iris, the boss decided to say okay, told them to pull out the boxes, copy every piece of paper, including any dust bunnies that might be hiding in a box corner. He wanted you to have it all, so I’m guessing he’s going to join in on that review himself and help you out. Only way it can be gone through in a reasonable amount of time.”

“Last time we worked it,” said his partner, “he pulled it all into a conference room, and one of us was always working that room until there were simply no more questions we could think to ask. No offense, but we’ve been at this case for twelve years and it’s not going to yield. To tell you the truth, we’re glad it’s not going to be us this time.”

“Have you any personal theories about what happened?”

“A truck hauling a camper, it’s a gas guzzler,” said the first cop. “They stopped to fill up, someone saw money in the form of that new tricked-out truck. A gun to the boy’s head and tell the dad to drive, what’s he going to do? The truck and camper were likely sold to a chop shop a state away before their friends even called to report the family didn’t arrive. Makes me churned-up angry, but it’s what’s logical. There’s a plot of ground with three bodies a state away that will eventually turn up.”

She nodded thoughtfully. She turned to the other deputy. “And you? A personal theory?”

“Variation on the theme. They were carjacked and ended up near Canada or Mexico. Convenient cover for someone who needed to stay under the radar, then killed once they weren’t needed. Why else risk taking three people if not primarily for their vehicle? You have your offenders who like children, your guys who want to grab a pretty woman, and a subset who just hate cops, but to take all three? It’s not logical if one was the preference. There are much easier targets than three people who would have been tight with each other, tuned in to where each other was, at whatever stop they made for gas or food. Someone needed the truck, and liked the idea of the camper as it gave a nice cover.”

“It was one of those hard-sided Airstream travel trailers,” the other officer added, “not the type where the roof cranks up that has canvas sides. It could move contraband easy enough. A guy with a gun in the trailer with the boy, another in the truck with the husband and wife, who’s going to look twice or think something’s wrong?”

Evie found it an interesting premise. “You think they crossed with someone who got control via the boy or maybe the wife, and under duress they drove far away in the first few hours, were outside the search zone from the very beginning?”

They both nodded. “You can’t find the truck or camper, you can’t find the bodies, which after some point in a search means they aren’t there to find,” the second one continued. “This area has been searched hard, and it’s still searched every spring and fall when the ground shifts from freeze and thaws and rains by friends and family who go out hiking, hunting, and looking for clues. The woods around here are being systematically covered. It’s the respectful thing you do-‘I think I’ll go out and look for the Florists’ when it’s a nice evening and you have an extra few hours. There are grid maps of what has been searched, what’s next to cover. The deputy’s cousin kept that map updated at first, then later it went to his nephew to update. They keep current copies of it available at the library’s entryway brochure rack, so you can pick one up and go to an unsearched grid if you’re inclined to help.”

“That’s very useful to know. Thank you, officers. I appreciate the insights.”

“We wish you luck, ma’am.”

After they left, Evie flipped the lock on the door while considering what the officers just told her. A local guy would know where a search had been done, where people were heading next. It would be easy enough to move something you didn’t want found into an area already searched. But a lot of people wandering around… the officers were right. If there was something nearby to find, in twelve years someone would have stumbled on it.

But that gave her another thought. Had there been any homicides in the last dozen years that might be the death of someone who had discovered a detail about the Florist family’s disappearance? Someone killed before they could report what they found? If the killer was still local, it made sense that he’d been doing what he could to keep the crime under wraps.

It was worth putting on the wall. Evie went and picked up a marker and wrote Other homicides over the last decade, adding to her list. She could sense actual progress. Small maybe, but progress just the same.

Gabriel Thane

Gabriel laid down the pages of names on the table, including suggestions from his father. There were more violent people in the county than he initially estimated, but it was still a manageable number. He glanced over at Evie. She was right-the sheriff’s office had interacted with most on more than one occasion. While his deputies might be able to add a few more to the list, it was mostly complete. He got up to open the cooler, get out cold drinks. Without comment, Gabriel set two Tylenol tablets on the table beside Evie, a soda beside the pills.

She looked at the time, reached for the pain relievers. “No wonder the headache is coming back with a vengeance. I should have taken something an hour ago.”

“It might also have something to do with all the reading. We both need a break. Come, take a walk with me.”

She conceded his point, pushed her chair back, and rose. He locked the building behind them, called George to cover on-site security until they got back. “Let’s walk to the bakery and see what’s left. Everything goes for half price in the evening.” He nodded that direction and set out at an easy pace, so she could work the stiffness out of her back.

He could tell the stitches were bothering her by the way she’d occasionally run her finger along the edge of the gauze. “Tell me something I wouldn’t know about you. Easy stuff qualifies at this point. Where do you live? Cubs fan, Cardinals? Like big cities, visit downtown Chicago occasionally, or avoid it at all costs?”

She glanced over at him, apparently decided he was mostly making conversation and letting her choose the topics, and nodded before casually replying, “I rent a house in Springfield, near the State Police headquarters, and tend to fill it with garage-sale finds. I’m only a Cardinals fan, but camouflage it with a Cubs hat if I happen to be north of Interstate 72. Let’s see… what else? I mostly work alone, as we’re short-staffed at state investigations. I seriously miss having a partner. I like to drive and think about cases. I stay as far away from the madness of crowds as I can, though I love the ethnic food, the music diversity, and the art you can only find in a big city. Mostly the food. If I could transport that out, I’d be thrilled. Moroccan food, Indian, Thai. You could talk me into about any road trip if there were meals like that as part of the journey.”

He liked the mix she’d given. “An interesting set of answers.”

“I can add a few more: I enjoy cooking but am not a very good chef. I’m a lover of comedies, old movies, romances, have a building tolerance for watching sports. Oh, and I hate the smell of gunpowder. Seeing as how I’m a cop, that might be worth mentioning.”

That remark diverted him from her personal life for a moment. “Ever pull your weapon on the job?”

“Twice, both backups of another officer in a tight situation, but it’s been a long time. I like the Bureau of Investigations, which is mostly paperwork, talking with people. I’m a good shot, steady, calm, decisive. You have to be in this business for the sake of the cop beside you, but because I don’t like shooting, I’m probably more serious than most about my time on the practice range. I shoot a hundred rounds three times a week, after the workday is done, as it’s important to be accurate when tired. If I don’t like the results, I shoot another hundred rounds. The discipline isn’t the problem. I just don’t like guns and the smell. I tolerate carrying a firearm because it’s a job requirement.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything for a long moment, wondering if he had cops like her on the county payroll. Being averse to the smell of gunpowder was probably a bit unusual. He had his share of those who’d pulled their guns on the job and bore the scar of that memory, often no longer enjoying shooting deer or wild pheasant. “You’re not into hunting, I take it.”

“Never have been. And after hitting that deer, I can’t say I would ever be. Taking a huge animal’s life just for the sake of sport or meat you probably don’t need seems like an overall loss. Such beautiful animals-majestic and powerful and free. I’d be in the camp that says take a picture, don’t kill them.”

Evie half turned to consider him as they walked. “You’re a dozen questions ahead. Fill in some blanks of your own.”

The fascinating thing about an interesting woman was the journey to discover those unique items that made her… well, interesting. Only this one had another guy in her life, which put a rather tight box around the moment.

As far as understanding him, she mostly had to know his family, and that seemed an innocuous direction for this conversation.

“The dam that made Carin Lake was built in 1962. My parents own what is now called the Southern Woods-basically the south end of Carin Lake, land given to them by the state to compensate for what the lake had put underwater. They’ve added on to it over the years with purchased pieces. I mention it because I spent the first eighteen years of my life either in those woods, on the water, or trailing my father around on his job. Came to love nature, that water, and always admired my dad.

“I never thought of becoming anything but a cop,” he continued. “I like people, I like when things are peaceful in a community, between neighbors. I like being the one called when a crisis hits, able to respond and help them out. I’d have probably become an EMT if Dad hadn’t been the sheriff. He insisted on college, and that was fine with me. I enjoy school and I used it to broaden what I knew about the law and this job. Because Thanes have been here so long, we know the people of this county. It was a natural step to run for sheriff after Dad’s retirement.

“It’s interesting being the oldest son. Josh, the youngest, put his roots down in a place beside the lake. A bait shop, boats for rent, part interest in a campground. His business thrives and grows as large as he wants it to. He spends time on the water most days.

“Will went overseas as a combat medic, came back and settled on the opposite side of the lake from Josh, but more in the country. He’s a mechanic now, small-engine repair. If it’s got a motor, call Will. He’s very good at putting things back together, whether people, animals, or machines.

“Like I said, being a small-town, small-county sheriff fits who I am. I do the state conferences, spend more time taking classes on law enforcement and forensics than I would care to add up. But the degrees aren’t the goal. I’m not looking to make a name for myself elsewhere. I have a place here, a job that needs doing with excellence. I care about the people of Carin County who voted for me. I’m not a particularly ambitious man.”

“Hmm…” Evie cocked her head. “Sure you are, Gabriel. Your ambitions are focused here, in this place, in this role. You’ve spent your whole life dreaming and planning and working to get right where you are today. You want to live up to your expectations of yourself, deliver on what you know being a good sheriff means. Your ambitions have brought you to your goal. You want to live it now, so enjoy the moment.”

He was impressed with how much she’d captured from his brief description. “True enough. This job is a big piece of my day-to-day life, and I like it that way.”

He slowed their pace a bit, shifted to lighter subjects. “I like watching baseball, soccer, football, but prefer to watch them live at the high school or the park sports diamonds. I like being around the families who come out for the games. I like the hot dogs and popcorn and sitting on a folded blanket to cushion the hard bleachers.” They both laughed at his description.

“I’m a theater movie fan and enjoy the big-screen experience, those few hours when I don’t think about police matters. I don’t usually go to see police procedurals-they get so much so wrong.” More laughter. “I enjoy fishing, the peacefulness of it, but mostly the time with whichever family member or friend I talked into going out with me for the hour.”

“You focus on people in both your work and play.”

He nodded. “I like talking with others. And I like to think I’m on good terms even with those I have to occasionally arrest.”

They had arrived. She looked in the bakery window. “Do they have sourdough bread? I’m hoping for something fresh from the oven I can take back sliced and have for sandwiches.”

Gabriel held open the door for her. “You’ll find that and more here.”

They made their selections and started back, Evie eating a soft pretzel she’d bought along with a loaf of bread. As they approached the post office, she said, “I’m ready to call it a day.”

Gabriel, eating a bagel loaded with cream cheese, nodded. “Good. If you want to work until midnight, you should wait till after your body has another day or two to recover.”

“I’m getting there. It’s mostly sore muscles now. I’m going to soak in a hot tub for an hour and enjoy some music, then find a movie to watch on TV.”

“A nice plan. I’ll lock up for the night. I’ll be tied up most of tomorrow morning, but I’ll be by in the afternoon or maybe I’ll run into you around town.”

“That works.” Evie took out the car keys and moved to the convertible. She slid inside and shifted the seat to her preference, turned the key in the ignition, and grinned at the engine’s powerful hum. “I’m glad it isn’t so cool tonight I have to put the top up,” she told him.

He stood back, considering her. “You and the car look happy together. Good to drive?”

“I’m fine. I appreciate the selection.”

“See you tomorrow, Evie.” His phone rang, and he got it out as she drove off. A nice first day with her, he thought. She was a woman with some good ideas on how to work a case. And nice to have around, he added as he said “Sheriff Thane” into the phone and mentally shifted gears back to the car-vandalism problem.