It had taken lessthan thirty minutes for Darius to get a warrant for Riggs’ and Watts’ phones. They’d driven the phones to the Digital Forensics Lab at the DPD, which would use special software to download all data, including texts, voicemails, contacts, and messages that had been deleted. Then they’d started the long drive back to Scarlet.
“Riggs has motive, opportunity, and no solid alibi.” Deputy Marcs’ headlights reflected off the rocky canyon walls. “It has to be Riggs.”
Darius feared he was beginning to enjoy these arguments with Marcs. “He has motive, opportunity, and no alibi at all—and we have no concrete evidence that ties him or Watts to the crime.”
“What more do we need—a text message from Riggs to Watts saying, ‘Hey, bruh, want to run over Sasha Dillon after lunch?’”
Darius chuckled. “That would do it. So would fingerprints in the vehicle or cell phone location data that puts them near Scarlet or a credible witness who can ID them as the two men who stole the vehicle.”
“We’ll have to hope that their prints are a match for those they found in the SUV, because there are no witnesses, no street cams, and cell phone location data is too unreliable to interest the DA. If the prints don’t pop…”
“If the prints aren’t a match, we work the case. No one said this job was easy.”
“What did you think of Watts? He’s cagey as hell.”
Darius had noticed that, too. “That could be an artifact of his time in the military or maybe addiction. He strikes me as a man who doesn’t think far beyond his next high. With any luck, his phone will show us where we can find his dealer.”
They lapsed into silence, both of them disappearing into their own thoughts.
Then Marcs slammed on the brakes as an enormoussomethingjumped into the road, bounding across the highway in front of them in two giant leaps, the headlights showing tawny fur and a long tail.
“Now you can tell your buddies you’ve seen a mountain lion.”
“That thing washuge.” Darius stared after it, but the big cat had already disappeared into the trees.
“You hungry?” Marcs drove on. “Knockers is open until midnight on Fridays. They usually have live music—the Timberline Mudbugs, Davey Jane, Gold Dust Creek.”
Darius hadn’t heard of them but didn’t say so. “Just drop me off at Ms. Dillon’s place. My vehicle is parked there. I’ll head back to the Inn and order something. How late is the climbing gym open?”
He needed some food and a way to burn off tension. He did some of his best thinking while working out. He usually went for a run in the park near his condo after work, but that mountain lion had changed his mind about running at night up here. He would hit the gym instead and then pick up some takeout from Knockers.
“It’s Friday night, for God’s sake. Don’t you ever chill out?”
“The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner Ms. Dillon will be safe, and we’ll be free to move on to other things. Exercise helps me think.”
“Workaholic.” She shook her head. “I think the climbing gym closes at nine, but the rock wall at Knockers is open until just before midnight.”
They passed the town limit sign for Scarlet Springs, the canyon opening to reveal a small bowl-shaped valley full of twinkling lights. Marcs drove through the roundabout and then on to Sasha’s house.
“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” Marcs drew to a stop, her engine running. “Joe has the best selection of single malt in the area.”
“I’ll have to check it out some other time.” Darius unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out, leaning down to make eye contact. “Thanks for your hard work today. We haven’t cracked it yet, but we’re getting closer.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.”
He closed the door and walked toward his vehicle, waving at the police officer on duty outside Sasha’s house. Thirty minutes later, he pulled into the climbing gym’s parking lot, wearing running shoes, joggers, and an old T-shirt.
Inside, he found a handful of people moving like spiders up the brightly colored holds, ropes trailing behind them like webs. He paid and headed toward the nearest open treadmill, only to stop when he saw it.
A three-foot-high get-well card for Sasha.
Made of newsprint, construction paper hearts, and lots of glitter, it was stuck to the wall just inside the door. A photo of Sasha holding up a world championship trophy was stuck in the center. There must have been at least a hundred signatures and encouraging messages written in a rainbow of colors.
Get better soon, Sasha! You’re still the greatest ever!
Can’t wait to see you getting vertical again!
Wishing you a speedy recovery! XOXOXO
