“Or maybe she wasn’t worried about the police. Maybe she was afraid of someone else looking for her.”

“We’re back to anonymous bad guy,” Decker said. “We know there had to be two drivers in order for Elsie to abandon her car in the woods.”

“Then who’s your likely candidate for driver number two?”

“Don’t have one yet. I just got back from vacation.”

Marion and McAdams returned. She said, “I’ve been a terrible hostess. Anyone want coffee?”

Decker smiled. “I’d be delighted.”

Marge said, “Times two.”

“Me three,” McAdams said.

“I’ll be right back, then.”

When she left, McAdams said, “I found Pauline’s site in Marion’s browser history.” He showed Marge and Decker a copy of the home page. “It looks like Pauline took it down about six months ago, but maybe we can apply for records from the server. Find out who contacted her.”

“I don’t know if we have the authority to do that,” Decker said. “She’s deceased, but the people she corresponded with are not.”

“Our suspect list has just ballooned,” McAdams said.

Decker said, “Margie and I were just talking about that. That perhaps there was an anonymous bad guy who did the killing and threatened Elsie if she told anyone.”

Marge said, “We were just going over the car situation.”

McAdams said, “The boss and I just assumed that Elsie drove her car and Pauline drove her car and they left together in Pauline’s car. But now that Pauline is dead, it’s a big unanswered question. There had to be a third driver.” McAdams turned to Decker. “It could have been Bertram.”

“He doesn’t have a license,” Decker said.

McAdams said, “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to drive.”

CHAPTER 10

HE HAD JUST started his foray into outer space when his phone vibrated on the nightstand. He should have turned the damn thing off, but now that it buzzed, it was distracting. He grabbed the cell, intending to silence it, but then he saw the caller.

“Shit.” He jumped off her body and clutched his sweatpants in one fluid motion. “I gotta take this.”

“Why didn’t you turn it off when we started?” Terry asked.

Her tone annoyed him. “Because it’s twelve in the afternoon and some of us have to work for a fucking living.” He put on pants and grabbed a T-shirt. “Stay here!” He slammed the door to his bedroom, harsher than he meant to. Into the cell, he said, “Donatti.”

“You asked for the goods. I have them.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“I can change that.” A moment later, a frightened little boy appeared on his phone’s screen. Then the screen went dark. “Satisfied?”

“No, I’m not,” Donatti said. “I need to show the image to someone.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”