Page 194 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

Admittedly, so was he. He liked to think he had his pulse on his town and the residents that lived there—or visited regularly. Especially when said visitor was his best friend’s brother. Jordan had lived in Vermont with his mother during his childhood, but he’d spent his school vacations and holidays on the island. He hadn’t been back in close to two decades, yet it bothered him that Brad had never told him of his brother’s troubles. “The mayor—Jordan’s father—doesn’t talk about him much. Usually says something about how Jordan’s keeping busy with work in Vermont. They’ve never been close, so that’s been a good enough explanation for me.”

“Being a boozer, druggie, and general loser doesn’t make him a murderer, but my gut’s telling me we should keep him on our radar.”

Nate’s knee-jerk sense of loyalty made it hard for him to nod his agreement. “According to his probation officer, Jordan’s on his way to a year’s sobriety. He’s currently working construction and handyman jobs in Montpelier.”

“He was seventeen or eighteen the summer Samantha disappeared?”

Nate sighed. “Eighteen.”

“Keeping him on our radar,” Sanchez repeated.

Nate reversed his ankles and leaned back against the desk again. “I’m planning on heading over to the mainland sometime this week to check into the stuff I couldn’t do on Saturday—go to the Greasy Spoon and On The Rocks, show Samantha’s picture around at the library and museum, the old apartment building. Places she used to visit regularly.”

“It’s a path that needs following, but our problem is time. Twenty-two years.” Sanchez shook his head, whistling through his teeth.

Nate scrubbed at his jaw, growing more annoyed by all of the setbacks Sanchez felt the need to point out. “I’m well aware. Getting to the bottom of this is a long shot, but I need to know we’ve done everything we can.”

Sanchez nodded. “I want to close this case as much as you do. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve got a murderer to track down.” He stood, walked to the board, and pointed to the locket. “This right here is what I’m most interested in. Who was her boy toy?”

Nate stood, restless again, shoving his hands in his pocket. “Isn’t that the million-dollar question?”

Sanchez made a sound in his throat. “You said Callie drew a picture of it before she found it at the antiques store?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m interested in that too. If she remembered that, she might remember something else.”

“But that’s the problem. She doesn’t remember anything else. Nothing.”

“Maybe she doesn’t realize she does.”

He’d been having his own ideas about Callie, the locket, and her nightmares—especially after he saw the roofline today.

Sanchez’s cell phone started ringing. “Hold on.” He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “This is Sanchez.” His eyes widened slightly. “No kidding.” He glanced at his watch. “Yeah, I’ll head back. That’s close to a miracle, man. I wasn’t sure we were going to track him down.” He hung up. “My prime suspect in my former missing person, now dead guy, case was just picked up by patrol. One of our homicide detectives is hoping I can be there for the interrogation. This scumbag’s got some explaining to do.”

Nate nodded. The past couldn’t take precedence over the present. “Looks like you should be able to make the two o’clock ferry if we get you going.” Nate walked over to the desk and picked up the phone. “Kay, can you call over to the ferry and make sure they wait for Sanchez? He’s heading over in just a second.”

“I’ll take care of it,” she said.

“Thanks.” He hung up and turned to Sanchez. “I appreciate you coming out this way again.”

He shook Nate’s hand. “Sure thing. Give me a call after your trip to Boston—let me see what I can do to help out.”

“Nate,” Kay called back down on the intercom. “Detective Sanchez should head over right away if he wants a spot for his car. The ferry’s just about full. The press is leaving.”

Nate raised his brow, holding Sanchez’s gaze. “They are?”

“Looks like Callie’s old news. There’s an active shooter over at the mall in Providence, Rhode Island—mass casualties, hostage situation. It’s pretty bad.”

Nate sighed. “Well, Jesus.”

Sanchez shook his head. “Kinda makes you want to lock up your kids—keep them in a bubble out of harm’s way.”

“Have a safe trip.”

“Will do.” Sanchez left and Kay buzzed down again seconds later.

“Nate, I just got off the phone with the mayor. He’s heading our way and he’s pissed.”