“How do you know?” Bolger asked. “Can you read the plate?”

“No, but it’s missing part of its luggage rack… and both Lyle and David Haas agree it’s her car.”

Bolger, not wanting to concede an inch, said, “For the sake of argument, let’s say that’s her car. So what? We already knew she gassed up down there.”

“Sandy’s not driving the car. Look.” Max pointed at the driver’s window. “The seat is set too far back for that to be a woman of Sandy’s height. There’s a man in the driver’s seat, and no one on the passenger side.”

“If that’s her car.”

That was apparently more than Lyle could take. “It’s her goddamned car, Tate. It is because I’m telling you it is. You want to turn a blind eye… Jesus Christ! You’re the goddamned sheriff. When are you gonna start acting like it?”

“Shut up, Lyle.” Bolger pointed a thick finger at Lyle’s face as he spoke. “You come in here with this… this cock-and-bull… Buying a couch don’t mean a damned thing. You have an SUV near the convenience store—great—but you can’t even prove it’s her car. And if it is her car, she could be in the backseat. You close your eyes to the obvious and expect me to buy into your delusion. Well, that’s not gonna happen. Your daughter went to the bank and emptied her account. Then she packed her shit, took her kid, and left. If you come up with any actual evidence to contradict that, I’ll be happy to take a look. Until then…”

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be looking for the evidence?” Max said. He tried to keep his tone even, but there was no way to disguise the insult.

“Are you telling me how to do my job now?”

“Well, let’s see. Did you subpoena the cell tower data near Sandy’s house yet? There might have been calls made that morning. If you think Sandy was seeing another man, his phone number should come up. Did you look for fingerprints at the scene? What about video? If Sandy’s vehicle drove through Grand Rapids, some other camera might have caught it too. Did you check businesses along the route?”

“What about Reed Harris’s phone?” Lyle said. “Did you check it to see who he’d been calling?”

“Maybe someone should tell you how to do your job,” Max said, “because you’ve made a mess of it so far.”

Bolger stood up. “We’re done here.”

Lyle stood as well. “You’re protecting that son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

Bolger leaned over the table. “You’d better watch your step, Lyle.”

The older man didn’t flinch. “What does he have on you? Is it that girl—the one that drowned in the Tioga Pit?”

“Lyle, you can go straight to hell.” With that, Bolger left, slamming the door behind him.

Max and Lyle looked at each other. Max shrugged. “That went well.”

“No worse than I expected,” Lyle said. He looked around the tiny room, a room that was part of an office that used to be his. He grimaced with anger and said, “Screw him. I’ll go it alone.”