“You think someone actually robbed Mavis?”

“I didn’t find any evidence to suggest anything was taken, but it’s possible.”

“The robber didn’t hurt her, did he?”

“No. The autopsy listed cause of death as heart issues. Russ ruled it natural.”

She exhaled. “I’m glad to hear there wasn’t any violence. You never know these days, with the world we live in. Nowhere is safe anymore. Even our quiet little county.”

True enough, as Grace Reilly had learned Friday night.

“That will get cold if you don’t dive in.” He motioned toward the mocha.

“I plan to. Thank you again, Sheriff.”

“Enjoy.”

He continued toward his office, sipping his coffee as he fingered the message slip she’d handed him. Who was Jack Carson, and what did he know about Mavis Templeton?

Only one way to find out.

He circled behind his desk and got to work.

With the man’s address and phone number in hand, it didn’t take long to find the answer to the first question. How had his colleagues from years ago operated without databases and search engines?

Turns out Mr. Carson was actually Reverend Carson, pastor of a church not far from Mavis’s house. That raised his credibility factor—always important with unsolicited tips.

After pulling out a pad of paper and a pen, he tapped in the man’s number.

The minister answered on the second ring, and Nate introduced himself. “I understand you have information about Mavis Templeton that you think will interest us.”

“I don’t know for certain it will, but I’ll let you decide. At a church gathering last evening, the woman who called the police about Ms. Templeton mentioned her. As you know from your report, she tried without success to reach her Wednesday evening and went over to check on her Thursday morning. She told us last night there were signs of a break-in at the house, which is what prompted my call.”

“Could you tell me the name of this woman?”

The man gave the correct answer and continued. “I don’t know the exact timing of the events that occurred, but my wife and I were driving by Ms. Templeton’s property Wednesday night a bit later than we’re usually out and about, and we saw a car pulling out of her drive. It caught our attention because the headlights weren’t on.”

Suspicious.

Nate picked up his pen. “What time was this, and did you notice the make of the car?”

“Around eleven thirty. I couldn’t identify the make, but as it pulled in front of us, I could tell it was a dark sedan. I got as close behind it as I could and my wife was able to read the last part of the license plate.” He recited four letters and digits. “It was a Missouri plate.”

Nate jotted down the information. “How did you know that was Mavis Templeton’s house?”

“I didn’t on Wednesday, but we noted the location in case we learned anything more that prompted us to report what we saw. I realized the connection after the woman from my congregation told her story and I asked where Ms. Templeton lived.”