Nick spared Zander a brief, annoyed glance then returned his focus to Chief Warner. “No, sir.”
“You don’t know him?” the chief pressed.
“I’ve never seen him before.”
“It’s just a coincidence that you both took the same route into town and ended up within a few feet of each other?”
“Yes, sir. Must be.”
“Did you enter town on Valley View Highway?” The chief’s manner was far more conversational than interrogative.
“I did.”
“Coming from?”
“Portland, Oregon, this morning. I’m on a road trip and stopped here to stretch my legs and get food.”
“Where you headed?” the chief asked.
“Today? Seattle.”
“Are you under probation?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you ever been arrested?”
“No.”
“Do you have your driver’s license on you?”
Nick inclined his head to the side a few degrees. “I do.”
“May I see it?”
“For what purpose?”
The chief gave a relaxed shrug. “I just like to be thorough.”
Nick paused. “Sure.” In order to pull out his wallet, he set his phone on the ledge near Zander. The phone’s upturned screen revealed a text message conversation. Zander made out the initialsTRcentered in a circle at the top above small print that readTom R. He leaned in to read more, but the phone went dark.
Nick passed his license to the chief, who carried it down the nearby alley until he was beyond earshot. He spoke into his shoulder microphone.
Nick had full control over his irritation with Zander. Nevertheless, it was an almost palpable force. “Look, man. I’m not following you.”
Zander sized Nick up, saying nothing, letting Nick register his own irritation level. One thing he knew: Merryweather’s Main Street attracted locals or tourists who were either female or over the age of sixty. What it didn’t tend to attract? Young male military vets traveling alone.
In under a minute, the chief returned. “Here you are, Mr. Dunlap.” He handed back his license. “Enjoy your time in Merryweather.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Zander and the chief fell in step, leaving Nick behind. “His record’s clean,” the chief said.
“I mentioned earlier that I took a picture of his car’s plate. Would it be possible to run that and see what comes up?”
“I’ll have Kurt run it when I get back to the station. Like I told Mr. Dunlap, I like to be thorough.” They stopped before the restaurant and he extracted his phone. “License plate number?”
Zander rattled it off and the chief recorded it in his phone. “Got it.”
