visiting Louise. Both insisted they didn’t know where the women were going next. I suspected they were telling the truth. I thought it was possible Evelyn and Dotty were only thinking a day ahead. My best guess was that they’d intended to camp and for some reason that hadn’t worked out. Now they were scrambling to stay hidden.
Pauline had been entirely out of the loop.
Louise was the most talkative, probably because she was also the most worried.
“They would only stay the one night,” she said. “I know what you’re telling me about Evelyn’s husband is true, but I know there’s more. The kids were exhausted and wanted to go home. Evelyn and Dotty looked exhausted, too. They wouldn’t talk about it, but I know they were running away from something. I was thinking it was Evelyn’s husband, but I guess that’s not it. Holy Mother of God,” she said. “You don’t suppose they killed him!”
“No,” I said, “he was killed by a rabbit. One more thing, did you see the car they were driving? Were they all in one car?”
“It was Dotty’s car. The blue Honda. Apparently, Evelyn had a car but it was stolen when they left it at a campground. She said they went out grocery shopping and when they came back the car and everything they owned was gone. Can you imagine?”
I gave her my home phone number and asked her to call if she thought of anything that might be helpful.
“Dead end,” I said to Ranger. “But I know why they vacated the campground.” I told him about the stolen car.
“The more likely scenario is that Dotty and Evelyn came back after shopping, saw a strange car parked next to Evelyn’s, and they abandoned everything,” Ranger said.
“And when they didn’t return, Abruzzi cleaned them out.”
“It’s what I’d do,” Ranger said. “Anything to slow them down and make things difficult.”
We were driving through Highland Park, approaching the bridge over the Raritan River. We were out of leads again, but at least we’d gotten some information. We didn’t know where Evelyn was now, but we knew where she’d been. And we knew she no longer had the Sentra.
Ranger stopped for a light and turned to me. “When was the last time you shot a gun?”
he asked.
“A couple days ago. I shot a snake. Is this a trick question?”
“This is a serious question. You should be carrying a gun. And you should feel comfortable shooting it.”
“Okay, I promise, next time I go out, I’ll take my gun with me.”
“You’ll put bullets in it?”
I hesitated.
Ranger glanced over at me. “You
“Sure,” I said.
He reached out, opened the glove compartment, and took out a gun. It was a Smith & Wesson .38 five-shot special. It looked a lot like
“I stopped by your apartment this morning and picked this up for you,” Ranger said. “I found it in the cookie jar.”
“Tough guys always keep their gun in the cookie jar.”
“Name one.”
“Rockford.”
Ranger grinned. “I stand corrected.” He took a road that ran along the river, and after a half mile he turned into a parking area that led to a large warehouse-type building.
