The sheriff called the state police and told the detective who’d helped them with the mobile locator to keep somebody on that frequency, that the missing person might call in later.

Rhyme noticed Bell pause. He glanced at Rhyme and said into the phone, “Appreciate the offer, Pete. But so far it’s just a missing person. Nothing serious.”

He hung up. Muttered, “Nothing serious. Jesus, our Lord…”

Fifteen minutes later Ben Kerr walked into the office. He actually seemed glad to be back though he was visibly upset at the news that necessitated his return.

Together he and Thom finished unpacking the state police’s forensic equipment while Rhyme stared up at the map and the evidence charts on the wall.

FOUND AT PRIMARY CRIME SCENE— BLACKWATER LANDING

Kleenex with Blood
Limestone Dust
Nitrates
Phosphate
Ammonia
Detergent
Camphene

FOUND AT SECONDARY CRIME SCENE— GARRETT’S ROOM

Skunk Musk
Cut Pine Needles
Drawings of Insects
Pictures of Mary Beth and Family
Insect Books
Fishing Line
Money
Unknown Key
Kerosene
Ammonia
Nitrates
Camphene

FOUND AT SECONDARY CRIME SCENE— QUARRY

Old Burlap Bag—Unreadable Name on It
Corn—Feed and Grain?
Scorch Marks on Bag
Deer Park Water
Planters Cheese Crackers

FOUND AT SECONDARY CRIME SCENE—MILL

Map of Outer Banks
Ocean Beach Sand
Oak/Maple Leaf Residue

As Rhyme gazed at the last chart he realized how little evidence Sachs had found at the mill. This was always a problem when you locate obvious clues at crime scenes— like the map and the sand. Psychologically your attention flags and you search less diligently. He now wished they had more evidence from the scene.

Then Rhyme recalled something. Lydia had said that Garrett’d changed his clothes at the mill when the search party was closing in. Why? The only reason was that he knew that the clothes he’d hidden there could reveal where he’d hidden Mary Beth. He glanced at Bell. “Did you say Garrett was wearing a prison jumpsuit?”

“That’s right.”

“You have what he was wearing when he was arrested?”

“It’d be over at the lockup.”

“Could you have them sent over here?”

“The clothes? Right away.”

“Have them put in a paper bag,” he ordered. “Don’t unfold them.”

The sheriff called the lockup, told a deputy to bring them over. From the one-sided conversation Rhyme deduced that the deputy was more than happy to participate in helping to find the woman who’d hog-tied and shamed him.

Rhyme stared at the map of the Eastern shore. They could narrow the search to old houses—because of the camphene lamp—and to ones set back from the beach itself—because of the maple and oak leaf trace. But the sheer size of the place was daunting. Hundreds of miles.