I'm stopped at a light when my phone rings. It's propped in a little stand that fits into the air vent, letting me hit the speakerphone button and answer without having to hold it up.
“Hey, babe,” I answer after seeing Sam's name on the screen.
“How’s it going?” he asks. “Getting anywhere?”
“I’d like to feel as if I am because of how much I'm doing, but I'm still trying to piece it all together. I went to the last couple of places around town where Lakyn was seen. It's a lot like at the bank. Pretty inconvenient for anybody to be actually watching but perfectly normal places for someone living around here.”
"I didn't think she lived in Harlan, though," Sam says.
"And that's another thing. She doesn't. She lives in Salt Valley, which is about an hour's drive. Yet in the days leading up to her disappearance, she was seen in the Harlan area multiple times. Part of that makes sense because of her interactions with Xavier Renton at the jail, but even the jail isn't right there. The very last place she was seen was outside that news studio. But since then, her car hasn't been seen, and she hasn't been accounted for.”
“What about Renton?” he asked.
“I did find out something interesting about his case. It turns out he didn't have a jury trial,” I say. “He waived his right to it. He only had a judge.”
“Why would he do that?” Sam asks.
“Because he's a conspiracy theorist,” I say. “He does not believe a group of civilians could be truly impartial and would go into the case with open minds and without influence. A judge is a single person and bound by both law and honor.”
“Did you talk to the judge? Get to figure out why he was convinced Xavier did it?”
“I tried to. But because his case is being reopened and there might be a new trial, he's not allowed to talk about it. So that was kind of a dead-end. I was, however, able to find some of the original court transcripts and commentary he did during the trial. Obviously, a lot of it is redacted because I don't have a warrant or anything, but it definitely gets the point across.”
“And what's the point?” Sam asks.
“The judge believed Renton was influenced by his theories on society and had begun to believe his best friend was somehow involved and needed to die because of it. According to the ruling, the evidence showed only the two of them had realistic access to the garage, and no one else had any motive," I say.
“Circumstantial,” he notes.
“But compelling. I have to admit that. I still don't think Xavier did it. He's a brilliant man. Eccentric and maybe wired a little different, but brilliant. He wouldn't do something that painfully obvious and then try to say he didn't. It would seem like an insult.”
“What are you doing now?" he asks.
“Going to get a quick bite to eat, then Dean and I are supposed to go to the police station and talk to the detective. They still haven't heard from the blonde woman, but Eric is doing some hunting, too. He's been tracing pictures and finding paths through social media and news accounts to create a timeline of that conference. He's hoping he'll be able to identify exactly when and where that photo of Lakyn was taken, then trace any surveillance cameras in the area that might have caught her, or any social media posts from the surrounding areas that might have also caught that woman in them.”
“Well, happy hunting to Eric. If there's anybody who could possibly find her, it would be him,” Sam says.
“I know he's already been looking for her for so long, but now he has more to go on. Before, it was just that one bit of surveillance video. I'm hoping he's able to track her down, or someone recognizes her and has the integrity to come forward,” I say.
"I hope so, too," Sam says. "Alright, I have to go."
"No," I sigh, disappointed at such a short call. "I miss you so much."
"I know. I'm sorry. I only had a minute, but I wanted to hear your voice. I miss you so much, too. Call me later," he says.
"I will. I love you."
"I love you, too."
My craving for Italian food brings me to a restaurant I've driven by a few times and have been meaning to try. I don't have time for a long meal, but enough to not have to grab another burger. A hostess seats me and takes my drink order. A few moments later, someone appears by my table, and I look up, expecting to see a waiter. Instead, it's a tall, golden-skinned man with silver in his beard and many years of laughter around his eyes.
"Agent Emma Griffin?" he asks.
"Yes," I nod, trying to process if I've seen this man before.
"When I heard we had such an illustrious visitor to our town, I was hoping you would come to my restaurant. My name is Lorenzo Tarasco, and I am at your service."
He rests a hand over his heart and gives a slight bow.
"Thank you," I say, feeling slightly flustered by the attention. "I didn't even know people realized I was here."
He laughs a boisterous laugh and raises one hand to beckon a waitress over to my table.
"Agent Griffin is my guest this afternoon. The kitchen will prepare a tasting menu for her."
I shake my head. "Oh, no. I appreciate it, but I really have to be somewhere. I just stopped in for something quick. I've driven by here a couple of times, and it looked good."
Now both hands go to his heart. "You're so kind. I
