Caitlin joined him in repose. “You called this a crime scene, Sheriff. Does that mean something they’ve found suggests Paige Lauffer didn’t head up to Indy for a Barbie convention?”

Hopewell put his hat on. “From what we know so far, that would be out of character. She wasn’t in a relationship, worked five nights a week at a bar near campus, and volunteered at the nursing home where her mom lives. She didn’t show up for work last night, didn’t stop by the home this morning. They’re the ones who called.”

“Her mother?”

“No, her mother’s been comatose for two years. The volunteer coordinator reached out. Of course, we’ll check her phone, email, and what have you.”

Caitlin saw a storm’s worth of leaves on the green Ford’s windshield. “That hers?”

He nodded. “Last rain was Friday. Hasn’t moved since. She’s an avid runner, 10K most mornings.”

Caitlin thought about the road Greenwood brought them up—plenty of curves, not much shoulder. “So there’s a good chance she got clipped by a car.”

Hopewell nodded. “Not much a human body can do against a drunk driver. We’ve started a sweep of the surrounding roads and will have a press conference ASAP. People around here don’t ignore announcements about missing girls.” He didn’t have to say “anymore,” or “since the incident,” or “because of Chapman.” The case of the missing student simmered under the county’s collective surface. “So,” Caitlin said, well aware of a change in the sheriff’s posture, “no chance of a connection to Angela Chapman?”

“God, I hope not.”

A large black SUV pulled onto the driveway.

Hopewell straightened his perfectly aligned hat. “Guess we’ll see what the feds say.”

*   *   *

Both Greenwood and Hopewell introduced Caitlin to the two male agents, but neither the lanky redhead from the Bloomington resident agency nor the tall superior with the military bearing from the Indianapolis office would comment.

After five minutes in a huddle with his peers, Greenwood moved toward the car. “Ready?”

Caitlin got in, buckled up. “I couldn’t hear much from the sidelines. What’s the next step?”

“Hopewell’s people are setting up a press conference to get the public involved. They’ll also get a warrant for Lauffer’s cell.”

“Can’t the FBI access that info, Patriot Act and all?”

Greenwood pulled out and passed a slow-moving pickup truck. “They saw this as a local issue, if it’s an issue at all.”

“Right,” Caitlin said. “A local nonissue that brought out the police, the sheriff, and the FBI.”