He hung up and, knowing he had about fifteen minutes to kill, watched the tapes featuring Emma again. She was relaxed when she walked out of the frame with the man, who was careful to keep his head down.

Spencer focused on the man. He wore all black, a hoodie, and jeans. He appeared to be about five ten, which coincided with the athletic shoe prints found at the Laura Davis, Tammy Fox, and Casey Andrews scenes.

Checking his watch, he grabbed his hat. Fifteen minutes later he arrived at the diner as Jordan was getting out of an Uber.

As he approached, her head swiveled toward him, and she braced.

“Jordan, it’s Spencer.”

The tension in her shoulders relaxed. Being a cop came with its own set of challenges, and her vision added extra layers of vulnerability.

Jordan had plenty of reasons to request help, but asking for anything did not come naturally to her. Maybe that was why he wanted to help so much. His late wife had always been dependent on him, and when they had first married, he had seen it as a form of love. But after a while, her constant need for reinforcement created friction between them. Maybe if Vickie and he had both been more mature, it would have turned out differently between them. Maybe not.

“Spencer,” she said. “Your soap has faded from this morning.”

“I didn’t realize it was that noticeable.”

“Not overly strong. And I’m always on the hunt for identifying clues.”

He put out his elbow just close enough for her to sense it, and she took it. “I’ve not eaten here before.”

“If you have work tonight, avoid the chili cheese dogs. Indigestion city.”

He laughed and opened the door. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

A hostess smiled at him, and then her gaze shifted to Jordan and her cane. Smile fading, she guided them to a booth and handed him a menu.

“Hon, what can I get you?” The woman’s voice rose several notches, as if speaking louder would help.

Jordan smiled. “You still have the grilled-chicken sandwich with melted provolone?”

“We do.”

“I’ll take that, fries, and a soda.”

“Will do. And you, sir?” the waitress asked.

“The same,” Spencer said.

“Will do,” the waitress said.

As the waitress walked away, Spencer asked, “Have you been getting a lot of that?”

“Some. My Uber driver offered to turn the radio up, thinking it might make me more comfortable.” She turned toward the window and the afternoon light before she faced him again. “I suppose that’s part of it. Though it’s already getting old. So, Emma Powers came in here with a man she met outside the hospital?”

“She did. I have an officer collecting footage from all businesses around the diner. ATMs, gas stations, retail shops. If they came here, then we might be able to track their path.”