well cared for. In his bedroom, I found a photo of Laurel, her high school graduation picture I guessed, in a silver frame beside the bed. Her hair in a topknot, her eyes glistening, she looked happy and excited about the future. I snapped the photo with my cell, and my chest filled with anger when I thought of her defaced body on the bed at the ranch.
It was then that I spotted a pair of dark brown high-top boots neatly placed just outside the closet door. I stooped down and picked the left one up, turned it over. Dirty but nothing remarkable. I picked up the right one and did the same. This time I saw something on the sole near the toe, something that had dried brown and looked like it might be blood. I took out my phone and clicked through the photos I’d taken at the crime scene until I found the ones in the kitchen. I enlarged the one of the bloody print on the tile floor and compared it to the tread on the boot I held in my hand. The same bowling pin semicircle ringed the outside with the chubby crosses in the center.
The manufacturer’s mark was on the heel: a ‘W’ for Wilderness.
Before I walked back outside, I called Max. “I’m at Myles Thompkins’ cabin. He’s not here, but he put his neighbor in charge of watching the place and caring for the dogs. The guy gave me permission to look around inside.”
“Did you find anything?” Max asked.
“We need the CSI unit,” I said. “Call Judge Crockett and get a warrant. When he asks for probable cause, tell him that it looks like we’ve got the bloody boot.”
Nineteen
“Explain to me how and when Myles got in touch with you,” I asked Scotty. “Everything you can remember.”
The guy looked flustered, regretting having given me permission to enter the house, I assumed. “I told you what I know, which isn’t anything much,” he said. “What’d you find in there?”
Conroy had retrieved crime scene tape out of his trunk, and Scotty watched my fellow officer string the yellow and black plastic from one tree to the next, cordoning off the cabin and barn. Each foot of tape that unrolled increased Scotty’s discomfort. “I don’t know why you’re doing that,” he said. The temperature kept dropping, a frigid night ahead, and the wind had started to blow. I had my parka on, and Conroy was bundled up tight, but Scotty had on only an insulated plaid wool shirt. The guy kept shivering.
“Look, Myles didn’t do nothin’ wrong. I know him, and he’s a good guy,” he insisted.
“You’re a true friend, and I bet he’ll appreciate hearing that you said that,” I said. “But there are some things inside that we need to get the crime scene folks out here to look at. I’ve got a search warrant being drawn up, and we’ll be taking a closer look. But it’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Shit,” Scotty looked at me with something akin to terror in his eyes. “Is Myles going to be pissed with me?”
“Why should he?” I asked. “If it’s like you said, he’s not the kind of guy to do anything wrong, right?”
“Yeah,” Scotty said. “That’s right. Not Myles.”
“Tell me, when did he get in touch and exactly what did he say?”
Scotty thought for a minute. “I guess it was middle of the night some time. I got a text. He said that he’d be gone for a while.”
“You said earlier that he was going up the mountain,” I said. “That he was doing some hunting.”
“Well, he didn’t actually say that. At least, I don’t think he said that,” Scotty said. “I think I kind of guessed at that. Myles just said that he was going to be gone for a while and he needed me to watch the cabin and the dogs. Usually when I do that, it’s because he’s hunting.”
“Okay, I see. How about showing me the text? That might make it easier.”
Scotty looked doubtful at first, but then pulled out his cell phone. He maneuvered through his text messages, then opened one and handed me the phone. It had been sent just after 3 a.m. It read:
This is Myles. I left and won’t be back for a while. Please feed the dogs and take care of my place. Thanks.
“He wasn’t specific about how long he’d be gone or where he was going. Did you have any other communication from Myles?”