Noah scrutinized him. "We're talking about a man's life."
"That man is not innocent. Trust me on that. You want to question his conviction, go speak to the Walter family."
"The who?"
"Jenny Walters. She was Carter Lyle's girlfriend the year before Kara went missing. She was murdered."
"And?"
"Everyone knows he did it. He just never went down for it." Ray stood and planted both hands on the desk. "Look, Noah. I know you mean well. But Luke and I gave this case our due diligence and put the guy away four years ago. You might doubtmy ability to do my job because of the debt I ran into at the Ashford Royale Casino. Fine. But Luke too?"
Noah dropped his head for a second, then met his brother's eyes. "Ray."
"If you want County or State to talk to Seraphine, go ahead. But I am not going to give Lyle a reason to appeal based on a sketch from a disturbed teenager five years ago. The Ellison family deserves to see justice." He paused. “By the way, have you spoken with Savannah? Does she know you're here? Because the last thing I need is her on my back about you getting involved when you are supposed to be on mental health leave."
"It's fine."
"Is it? Because the time off looks like it's been helping you. Don't shoot yourself in the foot in the last stretch."
"I visited Lyle in prison."
Ray stared at him. "Geez, Noah. When were you going to tell me that?"
"I'm telling you now. He said there was a reason Luke was ambushed on Route 73. That's the same road Kara went missing on."
"He wants to mess with you."
"He's spoken with Roberts."
"Of course he has. And you put Roberts behind bars. They get to watch the news in there. They hear things. They have visitors. Roberts has been trying to get back at you since you stripped him of his sheriff's position, exposed the corruption, and put him away. He's bound to be whispering in Lyle's ear. Carter Lyle is a violent, pathological liar who will say anything and do anything if he thinks it will get him out of that cell." Ray walked around the desk and opened the office door. "Now, if you are going to be involved in this case, you will need to clear it with your lieutenant."
Noah stood in the doorway, watching his brother. Ray held the door, his expression set. The conversation was over.
Noah walked out.
11
The single-story ranch house sat back from the road on a patchy lot, a property that had been slowly repurposed from living space to work space over the years until the line between the two had disappeared entirely.
An RV was parked along the side of the house, its tires soft, a power cord snaking from it through a cracked garage window. A hand-painted sign on a post near the driveway read Spence Auto Detailing with a phone number beneath it. Behind the sign, the garage door was open and Noah could see the front end of a sedan up on ramps, a shop vac, and a shelf of spray bottles and microfiber cloths organized with more care than anything else on the property.
Noah parked on the street and walked up. He knocked and waited. He heard footsteps inside, then the door opened. The man standing there was mid-forties, stocky, wearing grease-stained overalls unzipped to the waist with a thermal shirt underneath.
"Are you Mark Spence?"
"You have to phone if you want to book in your car for detailing."
"No. I'm from State Police. I’m here about your daughter. Fiona Spence."
Something in Mark's face tightened. He stepped aside and let Noah in.
The living room was small and cluttered. A television was on with the volume low. A plate with a half-eaten sandwich sat on the arm of a recliner. Noah didn't sit. Mark didn't offer.
"Her vehicle was found off Route 73," Noah said. "She's missing."
"I know. Ruby came by asking about her. I also received a phone call about her car." Mark pulled a pack of cigarettes from his overalls pocket and lit one. He exhaled toward the ceiling. "I'll tell you the same thing I told her. I haven’t heard from her. She's probably at her boyfriend's."
"She's not there."
