as a pin owned by our state representative,” Jake said.
“Weelll, let’s not exclude everything,” Frank said slowly.
“Finally, someone with flexibility,” Sam whispered, loud enough for them to hear.
“I prefer logic,” Jake clarified.
Sam jabbed her fists onto her hips. “Let’s try this for logic — Preston had something to do with King Tut’s murder. And once we get an I.D. on the victim, I’ll shove the logic right down your throat.”
Chapter 17
Sam circled Skip Foley’s desk impatiently. He looked up from his phone conversation and signaled that he would be another minute. Skip had been the print technician at Headquarters for the past fifteen years. During his first month on the force, he had tried to break up a fight in a local bar, only to take a bullet in the leg. It shattered his knee cap and left one leg two inches shy of the other. He refused to go on disability. Instead, he trained with the FBI and became one of the best print technicians in the state.
Skip hung up the phone and swiveled his chair around to the computer. Jake and Frank leaned over his shoulder. Sam continued to pace.
“It’s a positive match?” Sam asked.
“Absolutely.” Skip punched the keys on the computer and pointed to the screen. “Who’s the primary?”
Frank jerked a thumb toward Jake. “He always gets the good ones.”
“No. I always get the unsolvable ones.”
“No case is unsolvable,” Sam said simply.
“Military records?” Frank asked eyeing the report coming off of the printer.
Sam ripped off the printout. “Harvey Wilson, born July 10, 1930, in Huntsville, Alabama. African American. Father, James, a postal worker. Mother, Ruby, a homemaker. Let’s see,” she ran her eyes down the form, “joined the Army out of high school, stationed in Hawaii.”
“Not a bad assignment,” Skip commented.
“He was part of the Twenty-fifth Infantry Division dispatched to Korea in June of 1951,” Sam continued. “Last assignment was to delay the advance of North Korean troops in
Mushima Valley.” Sam read the rest in silence, then looked up. “He was reported AWOL August 13, 1951.”
Chapter 18
“AWOL?” Frank repeated, as if his mind had been in a fog during the ride back to Precinct Six.
Sam cranked the windows open in her office. Tossing a handful of sunflower seeds on the sill, she clicked her tongue, then called out in a language the two men didn’t understand. Immediately, two mourning doves flew over, looked up at her and started pecking at the seeds.
“You’re going to have a windowsill full of bird shit,” Jake pointed out as he sat down and draped his long legs over Sam’s desk, crossed just above the tennis shoes. He pulled out a notepad and started writing.
“Where are you going to start?” Sam asked.
“Try to locate a relative,” Jake replied. “The father died twenty-five years ago. The mother died ten years ago. There’s a sister, Matilda, who lives in D.C. Frank, I need you to make out a list of the men in his division, his commanding officer. Hopefully, someone is still alive. See if anyone remembers him.”
“That’s a long time to hide out,” Sam said, eyeing Jake’s tennis shoes as she sat down. “Do you mind?” He slid them off the desk.
“If I were a guy with the threat of prosecution if the military caught up with me,” Frank started, “I would avoid stepping foot back home. I’d probably…”
“Stay in Korea,” Jake said.
“Right.” Sam picked up her pen and started doodling, drawing lightning-bolt shapes as she thought back to the pin in Preston’s safe. “The pin has stayed out of the papers, right?”
Frank glanced over his shoulder and saw Murphy walking down the aisle. It didn’t matter that the door was closed. Murphy walked in without knocking.
“So.” Murphy rubbed his hands together. “I hear we I.D.’d the fossil.” He said it as if he personally had something to do with it.
Sam eyed him suspiciously, then turned her notepad over. “Yes,” she replied.
“I read Benny’s preliminary report. Asphyxiation. Horrible way to go.” This time he let his eyes rest on Sam, “What’s with the pin that was omitted from Benny’s report?”
“We’re still looking into it,” Sam replied. “It could be a key piece to identifying who he might have been in contact with.”
“Looks like you have your hands full with this one. Trying to retrace this guy’s steps after all this time should keep you busy for a while.”
Sam forced a smile. “Which is why I need as much uninterrupted time as possible.” Murphy took the hint and left. Sam flipped her notepad over again and stared at the drawings. “I’m personally going to handle finding out how Preston is connected to Harvey Wilson.”
“So, you’re really going to go through with this,” Alex said. He and Abby sat in the shadows on the patio enjoying a glass of iced tea.
Alex’s dark eyes were framed in sharp, angular features. His strong body had been toned by judo, a sport he had learned years ago during his two years in the Army. Enlisting had saved him a trip to reform school for siphoning gasoline.
“It is tradition. As Sam’s mother it is only right that I choose her husband.”
Alex shook his head in disbelief. “She should marry Lakota. Besides, I have watched them, listened to them when I’ve worked around the yard. They hate each other. You can see it in their eyes,” he argued.
“I know I saw him in my vision. Besides, when they are together, all I see are sparks. They are attracted to each other.”
“Sparks,” Alex muttered. “They are sparks generated by a lot of friction.”
Abby raised her hand to silence him. “We will let the spirits decide. You must prepare the sweat lodge. We need large rocks, they hold more heat. And sage. It is important we have a lot of sage.”
“I have plenty of sage.”
They heard the slamming of car doors from the side drive by the garage followed by loud voices. They watched as Jake trailed Sam up the steps and across the patio.
“Act with your head this time, dammit,” Jake yelled. “I don’t know how you ever made sergeant. It sure couldn’t have been from common sense.”
Sam slid the screen open and rushed inside with Jake close behind. “All I want to do is take another look at the pin. Is that so wrong?”
“He has a surveillance camera,” Jake added as he slammed the screen shut behind him.
“I can get around it.”
Once inside, the arguing continued, although the voices seemed more muffled. Alex shifted his gaze from the house to Abby and said in a dry, humorless voice, “I think we need more sage.”
Chapter 19
By the next morning, the identification of the body in concrete had made the front page of every major
