from Max to me and back again, clearly disappointed, and said, “You need more evidence.”
“This is what we’ve got. We know it’s a little sketchy,” Max explained. “But Judge, we need the warrant now. This minute. We can’t wait.”
“And why is that?” he said, giving us a suspicious eye.
This time I answered: “Carl Shipley knows we’re coming for him. He’s been told that the autopsy will read murder as Myles Thompkins’ manner of death. If we don’t act quickly, he’ll destroy any evidence on that computer.”
“Who warned him?” the judge bellowed. Known for having something of a short temper, the judge got red-faced and sputtered, “Chief Jefferies, goddamn it, why haven’t you got control of your department?”
I’d never seen him so angry. “It doesn’t help to go into who talked. There was a mistake made,” I admitted. “But we need that warrant.”
“Just the computer equipment, Judge. That’s all we want,” Max said. “We’re requesting a really limited warrant. Any computers and printers. That’s it.”
When the judge frowned, his unruly white eyebrows peaked in the center and twisted into a question mark. He sighed, but his face was still as flushed as an overripe peach. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll sign your blasted warrant. But if this goes to trial and you lose the evidence on appeal because we didn’t have enough probable cause to justify this damn warrant, you’re going to have to live with it. Because you’re on thin ice here, I want you to know.”
“Absolutely,” I said, putting the typed warrant down on the judge’s cluttered desk. We watched as he signed it, then he picked it up and handed it to me.
“Now get out of here,” he said. “I’ve got a courtroom to get back to.”
Thirty-Four
Twenty minutes later, we were at Carl Shipley’s trailer, loaded with a list of questions for him and the warrant for the computer equipment. The CSI folks were on their way, but Max and I had a head start. I didn’t see Carl outside, but this time the trailer’s front door stood open. “Carl, it’s Chief Jefferies and Chief Deputy Anderson,” I shouted. “We need to talk.”
Silence. Max stayed back, but I saw him pull out his handgun. I was surprised, but then thought maybe he sensed something. I grabbed mine out of my holster. We waited. We heard insects chirping and buzzing in the woods around us, nothing out of place. That said, it felt strange, unsettling, and, I can’t explain why, but my nerves bristled. I walked up, peeked inside the trailer and saw that it looked as we had left it after the last search, disheveled but not in bad condition. “No Carl,” I said to Max. “What do you think?”
“His pickup’s here. He must be somewhere nearby,” Max said. “Let’s look.”
I nodded.
“Carl Shipley!” Max shouted, as loud as his lungs would allow, toward the woods. “It’s Chief Deputy Max Anderson. Chief Jefferies is with me. We need to talk to you. This minute. Come out!”
Again, silence.
“Damn,” I whispered. “Where the hell is he?”
Max tucked his mouth into a nub, then unfolded it and suggested, “Let’s spread out.” He nodded toward the woods past the trailer indicating I should take that direction, and he began easing off onto an opposite track. It was 11 a.m., and although the air felt fall-crisp, the sun was high, beaming down on us. I didn’t much like walking into the woods alone, weaving through the brush with no one to cover our backs, but we needed to find Carl. As I trekked in, I speculated about whether or not he’d lawyer up like he’d threatened to, or if we could coax him to talk.
Mostly, I wondered what we’d find on his computer’s hard drive.
Keeping my focus on the area surrounding me, I wove between the trees on the path where the grass was worn down. I stared off as far into the distance as I could and saw nothing but trees and brush, slivers of sunlight beaming between them. The trail before me clear, I moved forward, thinking about the Day of the Dead tree we’d seen last time we searched these woods. I worked my way in that direction, passing Carl’s horse in the corral. I wondered if Carl might be at the oak tree, perhaps taking down his decorations or sitting around eating lunch and drinking a beer while he enjoyed the view, but as I approached, I stopped. Even from a distance, I knew that the tree wasn’t as I’d last