In Her Tracks (Tracy Crosswhite #8)(80)

“And one badass bitch when she needs to be,” Fernandez said.

“You’re telling me?” Kins’s desk phone rang.

“So we’re good?” Fernandez said.

“We’re good.” Kins picked up the phone. “Detective Rowe.”

“Kins, it’s Mike Melton. Tracy told me to give you a call when we got the DNA back on the beer bottles and the napkins.”

“Shit, Mike, that was fast. Who did you bribe or hold hostage to get that done this quickly?”

“You know better than anyone that when Tracy Crosswhite says jump, we here at the crime lab all shout, ‘How high?’”

Kins laughed. “What do you got?”

“Two different DNAs, but they’re related. Brothers.”

“You’re talking about on the beer bottles?”

“Yes.”

Kins knew that was good. It was undisputable evidence that Melton’s DNA analysis was correct since they knew one bottle had been Carrol’s and the other Franklin’s. “And you compared it to the DNA obtained from the cigarette butts?”

“We did. The DNA on the two bottles and the napkins doesn’t match the DNA on any of the cigarette butts, but there is a familial relationship.”

“Which cigarette butt?”

“The one found behind the tree stump.”

Kins felt his adrenaline kicking in. “And what’s the relationship?”

“Siblings. Brothers.”

Kins made a fist. “Thanks, Mike. When can you send over the results?”

“I can send over a preliminary report within the hour.”

“I just need enough to get a search warrant.”

“I’m on it,” Melton said.

Kins hung up, gave Fernandez a fist bump, and summarized the conversation. “I’ll get started on the search warrant for the Sprague home. You get ahold of CSI and have them prepared to go in. Get the canines also. That’s a big piece of property. I want to check the backyards.”





CHAPTER 34

Tracy circled the block and parked so she could see the Rodriguez corner lot as well as the freeway entrance. Then she waited. Less than ten minutes after Tracy had left the house, the front door opened and Aileen emerged hurriedly, dressed in winter gear—boots unlaced, over her stretch pants, and a down jacket, unzipped. She walked carefully, so as not to slip, though with urgency toward the car in the driveway. She backed into the street, then turned right at the intersection.

Tracy waited a beat before she followed. Rodriguez entered the on-ramp to Interstate 82, which paralleled the Yakima River, heading northeast. Tracy stayed three cars behind. Several miles down the road, Rodriguez took the exit. The ramp looped and deposited her onto East Yakima Avenue, a major thoroughfare lined with restaurants, hotels, and fast-food eateries.

Rodriguez pulled into a discount tire store. Tracy pulled into a hotel parking lot across the street and watched Rodriguez enter the shop’s glass door.

Tracy checked her watch.

Roughly five minutes after Rodriguez entered the store, she exited, this time with a blonde woman who looked like the one in the photograph in Rodriguez’s living room. Like Aileen, the second woman was stout, but not fat. They had similar facial features. The two women spoke outside the store for a minute, then embraced before Rodriguez got back inside her car and drove off.

The blonde retreated inside the store.

Tracy set her seat back and got comfortable, expecting a long wait.



Franklin Sprague shouted up the stairs. “Evan. Get a move on or I’m leaving your ass here. Evan?”

“I’m coming.” Evan shuffled down the steps carrying a handful of board games.

“What the hell are you bringing?” He checked Evan’s shoes. “And you can’t wear tennis shoes. It snowed last night. Which means it snowed at the cabin.”

“I can’t find my boots. They’re not in my closet.”

“Borrow a pair of Carrol’s. He won’t need them. And you can bring three games. That’s it. No more.”

Evan went back up the stairs.

Franklin walked into the kitchen, where Carrol sat pouting over a bowl of Frosted Flakes. “You got it down, what to do if the police come by?”

“Why would they come by? I thought you said the DNA would exonerate us.”

“Look at you, using fancy, four-syllable words. ‘Exonerate.’ What, you been studying the dictionary?”

“I . . . I . . . I . . .”

“You . . . you . . . you . . . are a dumbshit. And memorizing big words ain’t going to change that. Just answer my question. You prepared?”

“Yeah.”

“Run it by me.”

Carrol stuttered but not too badly. “If . . . if . . . if they come by, I tell them that you and Evan aren’t home. I t . . . t . . . tell them you drove to Eastern Washington to hunt, and that I don’t know where your camp is or w . . . w . . . when you’re coming back.”

“And if they have a warrant to search the house?”

“Why would they have a warrant?”

“I’m preparing for every contingency.” Franklin counted on his fingers. “There’s a four-syllable word for you to memorize that means something. What do you do?”