“Dammit,” muttered Ava. “I’d like to know what Justin was doing during the time of that shooting.”

“We’ll get there,” Shaver promised.

The sergeant parked along the curb behind three Washington County sheriff’s vehicles. Ava could see a small red car surrounded by evidence tape.

“How’d they find it?” Ava asked.

A few observers who looked as if they belonged in the small retirement neighborhood watched closely, whispering to each other behind their hands. “Someone called it in yesterday,” said Shaver. “We didn’t make the connection until we had Yoder identified and a description of his vehicle. Actually a half dozen residents called it in. I guess a strange car stands out here.”

Ava wasn’t surprised. The Fall Oaks community was a “fifty-five and better” neighborhood. A coworker had shared stories about her grandparents’ move into the community. The couple had felt as if they were under a microscope. Neighbors commented on their visitors, complained about the new color they’d painted the front door (even after association approval), and discreetly moved landscaping rocks back to their original places after the couple had altered an arrangement . . . in their own yard.

They’d moved out after six months.

An unusual car parked overnight would have tongues wagging like crazy. She studied the small groups starting to gather. No media yet. Anyone with half a brain would put the large police presence around a strange car and the proximity to yesterday’s shooting together. “Have they released Justin Yoder’s name yet?” she asked Shaver in a quiet voice.

He grimaced. “Soon. There’s a news conference in a few hours. We’re trying to keep it quiet to give his parents a few hours to acclimate, but something tells me finding this car will get the word out early.” Shaver showed his identification to a cop and pulled on a pair of gloves, handing a second pair to Zander. “Touch as little as possible. I want a preliminary look before they tow it away.”

“It’s unlocked?” Zander asked.

“Yep,” said Shaver. “Lucky for us.”

Ava shoved her hands in her pockets and tried to look invisible. Shaver hadn’t offered her gloves—a clear message that she wasn’t officially there. She saw a few cops give her curious looks. She was wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops in deference to the predicted heat for the day. Nothing about her said “official.”

The men each opened a front door, and Ava peeked over Zander’s shoulder. He borrowed a flashlight from one of the patrolmen and quickly went through the glove box and looked under the seat. On the driver’s side, Shaver did a similar quick search. They opened the rear doors and looked some more. Zander asked a patrolman to snap a picture of the mess in the backseat before he dug through it. Ava saw crumpled tissues, gas receipts, Mountain Dew cans, and a pair of tennis shoes.

Shaver popped the trunk and gestured for the same patrolman to take a few pictures. Inside was a duffel bag, a lacrosse stick, and a helmet and shoulder pads that she assumed went with the stick. The men rustled through a few empty paper bags and pushed aside two college textbooks. One for math and one for biology.

“Nothing obvious,” Zander said to Shaver, who agreed. “Odd thing is that it was unlocked. Someone could have stolen his shoes and lacrosse gear. Apparently he didn’t care.”

“Who leaves their car unlocked in a strange neighborhood these days?” asked Ava. She looked around and noticed two women with white hair filming the search with their cell phones. “Even if the neighborhood seems safe.”

Shaver slammed the trunk and said to Zander in a low voice, “You saw the empty prescription bottles?”

Zander nodded. “I counted six.”

“Where?” asked Ava. “In one of the bags in the trunk?”

“Didn’t want to give the neighbors anything to leak to the media,” Shaver said with an answering nod. “We’ll let them think nothing interesting came up in our search.” He gestured to the patrolmen. “It’s ready for the evidence team.”

An increase in observer whispers made Ava look over her shoulder. A satellite truck with a news station number on the side had stopped down the street.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Shaver.

Ava grabbed a cup of iced coffee from the big dispenser at the back of the command center. The discovery of Justin Yoder’s car had given everyone a bit of an energy boost, but now impatience set in as the car was being officially processed. It could be days before anything interesting came out of the forensic examination of the car. Lunchtime had come and gone hours ago. She’d had a few texts from Mason, who was with Justin Yoder’s parents, but she really wanted to hear his voice. Across the room she saw Zander crook his finger at her.

Bless him for keeping me in the loop.

“I’ve been assigned to take another statement from Steve Jordan,” he told her.

The name floated briefly in her brain and then dropped anchor. “The man who ran out of the mall bathroom with the child,” she said. The boy’s confused face was permanently imprinted on her brain, along with the father’s expression when he realized he had to leave her and Misty behind. “I’d like to thank him for offering to help us. I didn’t see him later that day.”

“He went home. His son was in full meltdown mode. He gave an officer his name, number, and a brief statement. This will be his first in-depth interview.” He indicated she should follow him. They walked down a short hallway to a small room. “Holding up okay?” he asked.