Tish stared. A face appeared in the window of the truck and then disappeared. The man had wraparound sunglasses and a shaved head.

“Can’t you do something?” she asked.

“I can write him a parking ticket.”

Tish put down her coffee cup and stripped off her sunglasses. Her face was tense.

“Do you recognize him?” Stride asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“He knows we’ve spotted him.”

The truck engine started like the growl of a tiger. The delivery truck jerked away from the curb and continued north on London Road. Tish watched it until the van disappeared behind a row of brick buildings.

“Do you still think I’m paranoid?” she asked.

Stride wasn’t sure. “Have you noticed the truck before?”

“Now that I think about it, I may have seen it a number of times in the last few days.”

“It may be nothing, but I’ll do a check with the delivery company,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“I haven’t been ignoring you these past couple weeks,” he added. “I didn’t want to call until I had something more to tell you.”

“Do you have results back on the DNA tests?”

Stride nodded. “I got them from the lab this morning.”

“And?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. There was no match. We collected DNA from the flap of the envelope on the stalker letter that was sent to Laura, and we were able to get a good sample. When we ran it against the state and FBI databases, we came up empty. Whoever he is or was, he’s not in our files.”

“Damn.”

“It was a long shot.”

“Let me ask you this,” Tish said. “Would Peter Stanhope’s DNA be included in a database somewhere?”

“I doubt it.”

“So it could be his DNA, and we just don’t know it.”

“Sure.”

“Can’t we get a court to compel him to provide a sample of DNA?” Tish asked.

“Not without probable cause,” Stride said. “We would need to have something specific to tie him to the murder.”

“Laura was killed with his bat,” she protested.

“That might get us a DNA sample if the crime happened last week and if we still had the bat. After thirty years, no judge would grant a motion with what we have today.”

“You mean, because Peter Stanhope has more money than God.”

“Frankly, yes. I’m sorry, Tish, but there are certain realities to face here.”

Tish watched the calm blue water on the lake. A light breeze rippled through her hair. “I can’t believe there’s nothing we can do. There has to be a way to get a DNA sample from Peter.”

“There’s something else,” Stride said. “More bad news.”

“What?”

“This can’t go in the book.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“We have additional genetic material from the crime scene. There was semen found near the body. The police kept that fact secret.”

“You still have the sample? It’s still intact?”

Stride nodded. “I ran the DNA from the semen. It’s not the first time I’ve done that, but we add thousands of people to those databases every year. It didn’t make any difference. There was no match.”