it. “You don’t have to answer me now. Just think about it.”
For a moment, Clara was quiet. Then she asked, “Where’s the cabin?”
At least she hadn’t said no. “Outside Salt Lake. He’s always offering it to me as a getaway, and I decided to say yes, this time. Mountain views. The cottage is cozy. A stone fireplace. There’s a stream nearby. It may be too cold for trout fishing, but we can go hiking.”
She glanced over at him and gave him the hint of a smile. Max wondered what he’d do if she said no. He felt an overwhelming relief when she said, “I’ll think about it. Okay?”
“Good. Yes. Okay,” he said. “We can—”
Before Max could finish his sentence, Kellie’s voice on the radio filled the Suburban: “Chief, you there?”
“Yup. Chief Deputy Anderson is with me,” Clara answered. “What have you got for us? Have any more lab results come in?”
“No, not yet.”
“What is it then?” Clara asked.
“Conroy needs you over at Myles Thompkins’ place,” Kellie said.
“Is this good news? Did Thompkins turn up?”
“Conroy didn’t say. He just said he needs you ASAP,” she explained.
Instead of turning off the highway toward Alber, Clara flipped on the siren and lights and headed in the direction of the mountains. They might finally have a break in the case, and Max heard relief in Clara’s voice, optimism that had evaporated in the ICU room with Jacob, when she said to Kellie: “Tell Conroy we’re on our way.”
Thirty
The sun sets early in November in the mountains, and it was low in the sky when Max and I arrived at the cabin. We found Conroy with Thompkins’ neighbor, Scotty, near the barn. Both men had their arms folded across their chests, and they were jabbering away as if they had a lot to discuss. The dogs barking in the background, we walked up and Conroy, who never seemed to waste a single word, said: “Homer is back.”
“Homer?” I repeated.
“Thompkins’ horse.”
“But no sign of his owner?” I said, simply to verify.
“No,” Conroy confirmed.
Inside the barn, the penned-up dogs kicked up the noise level, while Homer nonchalantly munched on a pile of hay. He looked just as Scotty had described him: a big-shouldered bay with black points. It wasn’t hard to believe that he measured a full sixteen hands. Homer had a colorful blanket on his back topped by a thick strap that ended in stirrups and a worn saddle.
“When did he arrive?” I asked.
“Not sure, but I found him here about half an hour ago. Gave Officer Conroy a call to let him know,” Scotty said. The guy looked clearer than at our last meeting. Maybe he’d sworn off the pot for a day. “I came over to feed the dogs, and I found Homer nosing around in his empty oat sack. Hungry, I guess, so I fed him.”
I wondered how to handle this. I hadn’t had any experience searching a horse. I suggested, “Max, let’s get some gloves on and take that saddle off, check out the pockets and the blanket.”
“Instead of that, let’s get the CSI folks out here,” Max said. “No telling what secrets this horse might reveal. There could be prints on the saddle that might help.”
I considered balking, not wanting to waste any time, but Max made sense. While he put in the call to Lieutenant Mueller and the CSI unit, I clicked on my radio. “Kellie, tell Stef to come out here ASAP. I want her in on this.”
“Will do, Chief,” she said.
The sun kept getting lower, the light dimmer. While we waited, we searched the property, trying to figure out what direction the horse had come from. We had given up by the time the forensic trailer pulled in, followed by Stef in her Alber PD squad car. Soon we had eight folks including Mueller and two of his team staring at the horse. Stef and the CSI folks gathered round and whispered, concocting a plan. Mueller was the one who announced: “We’re going to treat Homer like he’s a crime scene, okay?”
“You bet,” I said.
Max and I stood back with Conroy and Scotty, while the CSI folks carefully removed Homer’s hardware, his saddle, canteen, all the rest, and laid them out on a table they popped open just outside the barn door. Stef helped the techs bag the blanket and the reins. They inspected the saddle but decided to wait to test it for prints until they got it to the lab.
“You know, it’s funny,” Scotty commented as