Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane #2)(19)

He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans and sighed. “We have found no sign of foul play at this time.”

“Fingerprints in the car?” Morgan settled back into the chair.

“Sure. Mrs. Clark’s and others, but no criminal matches yet.”

“You’re submitting the prints to local, state, and federal databases?” she asked. In addition to the FBI’s national IAFIS system, state and local agencies kept their own records. Typically, it was most efficient to begin with a local search and expand geographically.

“Of course.” The sheriff turned to face Morgan head-on. “And the seat was in an expected position for a woman of Chelsea’s height.”

“Do you really think she was taken or she went willingly?”

“We don’t know for certain. There was no blood in the vehicle, and her purse was gone.”

“So no sign of a struggle,” Morgan said. “What did you find out about the husband?”

“We found nothing suspicious in his background, and his cell phone records indicate his phone was where he said he was last Friday night.” King eased a hip onto the side of his desk. “We checked out the friend Chelsea was supposed to meet, and Chelsea’s boss. They both have clean records as well. Both seemed upset by Chelsea’s disappearance.”

“What about the area around her car?”

“We walked a grid. Came up empty. My deputies knocked on doors down the road. Nobody saw anything. According to the surveillance video at the train station, only two people got on the train at the station that night. Neither of them was a young blonde woman.”

“Could we have a copy?”

“No.”

Morgan opened her mouth to protest, but the sheriff raised a hand to silence her.

“But I will let you view it here,” he said.

“Thank you,” Morgan said.

If Tim had been arrested and charged in the disappearance of his wife, Morgan would have been entitled to all the sheriff’s evidence via the discovery process. But without any formal charges, Morgan would have to accept whatever crumbs the sheriff was willing to toss her way.

“I assume you entered Chelsea in the NCIC?” Morgan asked.

The National Crime Information Center was an FBI database of criminal justice information that included details on everything from fugitives to stolen property to missing persons. If a body or incapacitated person meeting Chelsea’s description turned up anywhere in the country, law enforcement would be aware that she was missing.

“I did.”

“Did you run a check on similar crimes?”

The sheriff held up a hand. “Of course I did, but there weren’t many details to enter. We have no proof a crime was even committed.”

“Tim said you brought in a dog.”

“Yes. But the dog didn’t pick up a scent either, so if she was at the scene, we assume she left by vehicle.”

“But you don’t know that she was ever there. If someone abducted her, he could have taken her somewhere else and then dumped the car near the train station.”

“Or Chelsea had someone pick her up,” King added. “It isn’t a crime to walk away from your family.”

“Why would you think Chelsea walked away from her family? She has two children.” Even as Morgan said the words, she knew the weakness in her argument. People did unexpected things all the time.

Terrible, cruel things a normal person couldn’t fathom.

“The husband admitted his wife was having a rough time with the second baby, and that he didn’t give her much help. I spoke with her parents out in Colorado. Both said how tired their daughter has been, how often she cried over the phone. And her best friend, Fiona West, painted a less rosy picture of Tim and Chelsea’s marriage than Tim did.”

Morgan put Fiona at the top of her interview list, and doubts about Tim’s innocence nagged at her.

“I know it must be hard for you as a devoted mother to think about a woman abandoning her children.” The sheriff’s tone softened. “But it happens.”

Morgan had no difficulty imagining women doing far worse things to their children. She’d prosecuted enough monster mothers. A shudder rippled through her as she remembered a few horrific cases. “You’re right. Not all women were born with maternal instincts.”

King continued. “Chelsea was feeling neglected and exhausted. Maybe she needed a break and wanted to teach Tim a lesson.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case.” Morgan finished the water, tossed the empty bottle in the trash, and stood. “Because I’d like nothing more than to have her show up safe and sound.”

“I’ll have someone pull up the train station surveillance video so you can watch it before you leave. It won’t take long. There’s so little activity, you can fast-forward through most of it.” Leaning forward, the sheriff tugged the scarf away from Morgan’s neck. His eyebrows shot up as the corners of his mouth went down. “Are those from this morning?”

“They look worse than they feel.” Morgan turned toward the door. “Thank you for your help. I’ll call you if we learn anything.”

“Same here.” King nodded. “You should be more careful. It would be a damned shame if someone wrung that pretty neck.”