“I’m sure she would.” He pulled out his cell phone, wrote down a telephone number and handed it to Colter. “She won’t mind.” He chuckled. “In fact, she’ll probably be expecting the call even before you make it.”

Colter sighed. “If I could find that gun and gun belt, I’ll bet you a nickel I could find the body of Clancey’s grandfather. If Morris was afraid to try to sell the gun, it’s probably with the body.”

“Nice deduction,” Marquez replied. “But that would be a long shot. The body’s been missing for, what—five years?” He grimaced. “You’ll need a forensic archaeologist if you find anything.”

“I know where to find one of those, too,” Colter chuckled. “So it’s not a lost cause. Not yet.” He got up and indicated the phone number on the slip of paper. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Good luck.”

He stopped by his superior’s office to tell him what was going on with Clancey and made sure she was excused from work for the day without any penalty. He also outlined the case concerning Morris and his assault on the Martins, who could identify the missing gun and gun belt and who might have other information about Clancey’s grandfather’s sudden disappearance.

Then he went to his own office and phoned Merissa Kirk.

“Hello, Mr. Banks,” she said in a soft, gentle voice. “How can I help you?”

He drew in a breath. He hadn’t told her his name; he’d just asked for her and another woman had called her to the phone.

“I have a missing man...” he began.

“Yes,” she interrupted, her voice changing just slightly. “Dalton Reed. He was a sheriff’s deputy until he retired. He disappeared five years ago. There’s a young man. The deputy was his stepsister’s grandfather. Oh...the young man did terrible things to his stepsister and stepbrother. He went to prison?”

“Yes,” he returned, spellbound.

“There’s a deserted church. He hates churches, that’s why he chose this one. It sits off the road between San Antonio and that little town Tank went to, when he was being stalked by a killer. What was it called? Jacobsville, yes, that’s it. It’s in a grove of pecan trees. There’s a crooked log fence and an old well that sits in front of a burned-down house that’s on the way to the church. The gun and gun belt are there, but he wants to sell them. He thinks it’s safe now, so long from the crime. The poor old man’s body is there, under the boards, near the altar.” She stopped and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. That’s all I have. It comes and goes...”

“That’s more than I had, much more. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re more than welcome. And congratulations.”

“Excuse me?”