Bingo.
Seth went to his police vehicle and popped the USB drive into his laptop. Zane joined him at the open car door. They watched the screen. Taken at night without much light, the ninety-second video was grainy. Bob Fletcher carried a body out the back door of the bar. As he turned, Seth could see the body was female and slim. Long hair hung down past Bob’s hip. He loaded her into the rear of his SUV, tossed a blanket over her body, and closed the hatch. Brushing his palms, Bob got into the driver’s seat and drove away.
“Any local girls reported missing in the past couple of days?” Seth asked.
Zane shook his head. “No.”
“We need to get Bob Fletcher.”
“Let’s go.” Zane started toward his car.
Leaving Stevie with Carly and the kids, Seth and Zane headed for Bob’s house. He lived in a one-story bungalow with a driveway that ran alongside the house to a detached garage. They pulled up to the curb two houses away. Paint peeled on the shutters, but the shrubs had been neatly trimmed before winter. Zane went around to the back of the property to guard the rear exit while Seth crossed the wide front porch.
Stepping to the side, Seth banged on the door. “Bob, open up. This is the police. We need to talk to you.”
No one answered, but he heard a creak, as if someone was walking on loose floorboards.
Seth listened. Another creak sounded from the side of the house. Drawing his gun, Seth peered around the corner of the house. Old wood groaned as a window slowly lifted. Bob slithered out the window.
Seth raised his weapon. “Freeze.”
Bob tumbled to the ground and rolled to his belly. He pushed a foot under himself and launched his body toward his garage. Not wanting to open fire in a residential neighborhood if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, Seth ran after him. Bob was in much better shape than Travis, but Seth caught him in a flying tackle. They went to the ground in a pile. Seth landed on top, but before he had a good grip, Bob flipped onto his back. His hand went to his pocket. Seth saw the blade a split second before it arced toward his face. He blocked the strike, forearm to forearm. Pain zinged through his arm as their bones connected.
Bob’s other hand shot out to grab Seth’s neck, but he had no leverage lying on the ground. Seth smacked the hand out of the way and delivered a left jab to Bob’s face. Then Seth turned the hand with the knife, twisting Bob’s wrist until his fingers opened. The knife fell to the ground.
Zane came running from the back of the house, his gun drawn and pointed at Bob. Together they rolled him onto his face and cuffed his hands behind his back.
Seth hauled him to his feet. “Bob Fletcher, you are under arrest on suspicion of kidnapping, to start.”
“I’m not talking without my lawyer,” Bob said.
“In case you don’t know the rest . . .” Seth pushed him toward his cruiser and began reading Bob his Miranda rights.
Later that night Seth joined Zane in his office at the Solitude PD.
Crime didn’t take a break for the holidays. If anything, criminals were celebrating by committing extra assaults and burglarizing houses in the hopes of finding holiday gifts. With no space available at the county facility, Bob was spending the night in the Solitude holding cell.
Zane grabbed a plate of cookies from behind his desk and offered it to Seth. “Somebody sent these in.”
“He’s guilty.” Seth bit into a gingerbread reindeer. His stomach rumbled, and he realized he hadn’t eaten all day.
“As sin,” Zane agreed. “Innocent people don’t sweat that much.”
“He’s jittery too,” Seth said. “And I have no trouble believing he’s violent enough to choke a woman to death. He took a hammer to Travis’s hand.”
Zane stood. “There’s no point sitting here all night. His attorney isn’t available, and he won’t talk without him.”
“There are times when the Fifth Amendment is a royal pain.”
Zane laughed. “This would definitely be one of those times.”
“We don’t need a confession. We have him cold for Amber Lynn’s murder.” A search of Bob’s property had yielded a black SUV with a dented front fender and blood on the passenger seat. Seth was sure DNA testing would prove it was Amber Lynn’s. Bob’s DNA would also be compared with the tissue taken from under Amber Lynn’s nails. In addition, they’d sent a copy of Bob’s fingerprints to the ME’s office, and a latent print examiner had matched it to the print lifted from Amber Lynn’s neck. They’d even found Amber Lynn’s purse in Bob’s SUV.
“I wish I knew who the girl was on the video.” Zane said.
There’d been no sign of a body in Bob’s house or at the bar.
“I’m leaving an officer to babysit him tonight.” Zane stood and stretched. “But it doesn’t have to be you or me.”
“Good to be the boss.”