Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(51)
“What about it?”
“The 2009?”
He frowned. “What about it?”
“A vehicle like that came up in connection with a crime recently.”
“Hey.” He stepped forward. “Some jackass backed into me and took off. I didn’t even see it.”
“When did this happen?”
“?’Bout a week ago. Why?”
“Did you file a report?”
“You think I have time to file reports? I’m working two damn jobs just trying to keep my head above water.”
Talia nodded, pretending to be sympathetic. “Mr. Lindell, I noticed you received a speeding ticket in San Antonio last August.”
The frown deepened. “I paid it.”
“Do you get down there a lot, sir?”
“Come again?”
“San Antonio? How often do you go there?”
His gaze hardened. Obviously, she wasn’t here about a crumpled bumper. “I don’t know. Now and then. I’ve got friends there.”
“When was the last time you visited San Antonio? Do you remember?”
“August. When I got the ticket. Why?”
“Are you sure?”
His glare intensified, but Talia stood her ground.
“I’m sure.” He glanced over her shoulder again. “Anything else? I need to get back to work here.”
She didn’t say anything, just watched him, trying to read his expression.
“That it?”
“That’s it, thanks.”
He stalked off, and Talia watched him. He went right past several customers and disappeared into the corrugated-metal building.
Talia returned to her car, where Nolan stood waiting by the passenger door.
“How was he?”
“Hostile.” She slid behind the wheel. “But not spooked. He lied about his Tahoe, though. Told me someone backed into him.”
“How do you know he was lying?”
“I could tell.”
“Okay. What about San Antonio?”
“He copped to the ticket in August. Said that’s the last time he was there.” Talia pulled out of the parking lot onto the highway.
“And?”
She glanced at Nolan.
“Do you believe him?” he asked.
She sighed. “I do, actually.”
“At least you got him on record with that. Now, if we find out he was there October second when Alicia Merino disappeared, he’s got a problem.”
“I’ll talk to his PO again. See if he knows anything about these friends in San Antonio.”
“Not a bad idea,” Nolan said.
“But I doubt if it matters. I don’t think he’s our guy.”
“Why not?”
“Call it a hunch.” She looked at Nolan. “How many left on that list?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Seriously?” She slapped the steering wheel. “We’ve been at this all day, and we’ve got shit to show for it.”
Nolan shook his head. “Welcome to Homicide.”
? ? ?
On impulse, Sara swung into the Walmart parking lot on her way into Springville. She passed through the rows of cars but saw no white Chevy Tahoes, old or otherwise. Across the street was a cinema, and Sara tried there, too, spotting a silver Tahoe parked at the end of a row. But besides being the wrong color, it was so new it had dealer plates.
Feeling foolish, Sara returned to the highway and cut across town to the motel. She didn’t need to drive around town this evening. What she needed to do was catch up on paperwork and get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d skipped lunch and it was almost six. Sara surveyed her options as she drew near the motel. Pizza Hut. Subway. The diner that the motel manager had recommended. And then there was the Dairy Queen where she’d gone with Nolan.
None of it sounded good, so she pulled a U-turn and made her way back toward White Falls Park. She’d noticed a Mexican place on Highway 12, and she had a sudden craving for chips and queso. She soon spotted the red neon sign for Flora’s Tamale House. It was Sunday evening, and she took the packed parking lot as a good sign.
Entering the restaurant, Sara was greeted by Mexican music and the smell of fresh tortilla chips.
“Just one,” she told the teenage hostess.
“Um, there’s a fifteen-minute wait? Unless you care to eat in the bar?”
Sara glanced around, debating whether to wait for a table or risk being hit on. Hunger won out, and she claimed a stool at the bar as her phone dinged with a text message.
R U back in town?
Nolan.
Her nerves did a little dance as she responded: Just got here.
The screen showed him typing, but then he stopped. Sara bit her lip. Maybe she should have called him and asked him to meet her for dinner. She’d thought about it during her long drive but decided not to complicate things. The more time she spent with him, the harder it would be not to see him again after the case ended.
The bartender stopped by, and Sara requested a menu. She skimmed the choices, but she was thinking about Nolan. She shouldn’t second-guess her decision not to call tonight, even if he took it as a brush-off. She was here for work.