After a minute, nothing had happened. I gathered my courage and headed into the warmth and light of the station.

“Yes, Justine and I don’t like each other. No, I didn’t do anything to her.”

The police chief scowled.

I scowled back. I was repeating the same basic information I’d been giving him for the last hour. I’d been scared at first. Then fear had faded to nervousness. Now I was just annoyed. Why was he being so dense?

“So, let me get this straight,” he said, consulting his notes. “Right after we brought in Agent Williams on Tuesday morning, you left Dorf, even though we’d asked you to remain available.”

“That’s right.”

“And you did this why?”

“I was afraid of him. He told me he’d kill me if I told anyone what he’d done.”

I might be a dead woman walking, but like hell if I wasn’t going to let people know who killed me. Well, who was going to be responsible for killing me when it happened, that is.

“Betty, do you really think we’re going to accept this story of yours again? John Williams is an agent in good standing. He’s never been reprimanded. In fact, he’s been decorated three times — I have his file right here.” The chief patted one of the folders on the table. “You expect us to believe he broke into your house, assaulted you, and tried to steal your photographs?”

“I don’t care what you believe. Fact is, I was afraid of him, and I left town at about 8:00 on Tuesday morning. I drove to Nebraska. When I heard from my brother that Justine was missing, I headed back. That’s it.”

“Problem is, you have no proof of that, which means your whereabouts are unaccounted for during the time that Mrs. Ryder went missing.”

This was infuriating — so not helpful to finding Justine.

Well, so be it. I guess it’s true that no good turn goes unpunished.

“Actually, Officer Shumaker’s phone logs should support my story. Since I was so scared Monday night, he was kind enough to call and let me know Williams was getting out. I talked to him at about 2:15 Tuesday afternoon, and I was already in western Minnesota when I received the call.”

The chief looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. I couldn’t have kidnapped Justine between 11:45 and 3:30 and also been across Minnesota at 2:15.

“What’s the number on your phone?”

I got out my wallet and handed him the scrap of paper where I’d written down the number.

“Where’s the phone?”

“I left it in a truck after I talked to Officer Shumaker.”

“How come?”

“I thought Williams might be able to trace where it was.”

The chief looked at me as though he were realizing for the first time that I was the saddest, most pathetic lunatic in Dorf.

“Wait here.”