Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(63)

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Is this your vehicle parked here? The black Explorer?”

“Yes.”

His gaze dropped to her bare shoulders, and his cheeks colored. He cleared his throat. “Ma’am, are you Sara Lockhart, from the Delphi Center Crime Lab?”

“Yes. What’s the problem, Officer?”

“I thought I recognized the vehicle. I was doing a routine patrol when I noticed your window busted out.”

“Excuse me?”

“The front window on the passenger side. It’s busted out, and there’s glass all over the pavement there.”

“Hold on.”

Sara closed the door. She rushed to the bed and dug some clothes from her duffel bag. She twisted her wet hair into a knot and slid her feet into flip-flops before grabbing her phone off the sink.

Biggs was on the sidewalk now, his back to the door as she opened it. She strode over to her SUV, where a pile of glass glinted like ice chips in the morning sun.

“What the—? When did this happen?”

He looked her over. “That’s what I need to get from you. Did you hear any disturbances outside your room overnight?”

“I wasn’t here overnight. I just pulled in”—she checked her phone—“about twenty minutes ago. It must have happened while I was in the shower.”

“I see.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at the black-and-white police unit that was double-parked behind several cars. “Wait here. Don’t touch anything.”

He walked off, and Sara stepped to the window, leaning close to get a look at the interior of her Explorer. The glove compartment was open. No visible damage to the steering column. She walked around to the back, and the cargo door and bumper looked just as hideous as yesterday. Sara cupped her hand over the window and peered inside. Her evidence kit and tools were there.

“Step away from the vehicle, please.” Biggs was back with a clipboard. “Our CSI is on his way. He’ll want to check for fingerprints.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m a CSI, and I’m happy to handle it.”

“That’s all right, we’ll handle it,” Biggs said. “They’re already on the way.”

Sara bit back a curse. They?

Biggs started filling out paperwork, no doubt creating a report that was going to derail her morning. She went back into her room. By the time she had a cup of coffee brewed, another police unit was turning into the motel parking lot.

Sara watched, guzzling coffee to wake herself up as the officers huddled together. The new guy was a uniform, but judging by his hefty evidence box, she guessed he was also a licensed CSI. Cops in small departments often wore multiple hats.

Sara set her coffee down and walked up to him. “May I borrow some gloves, please?”

“Ma’am?” He shot a questioning look at Biggs.

“I need to open the back.”

After a nod from Biggs, the officer crouched down to open his kit and handed Sara a pair of blue gloves. She tugged them on and carefully opened the cargo door. She stared at the space for several long moments and opened each of the other doors to do a thorough inspection. Then she peeled off the gloves and stepped onto the sidewalk to give Biggs her statement, complete with every detail she had noticed about the parking lot when she’d arrived this morning.

As they were finishing up, a white pickup pulled into the lot. Nolan looped around the row of cars and slid into an empty space at the end.

“Ma’am?”

She looked at Biggs. “Yes?”

“I said, anything else besides those two items?”

“No.”

Nolan wore a tie today, along with slacks and dress shoes, and Sara’s nerves fluttered as he walked toward her. His hair was damp from the shower, and he’d shaved in the brief time since she’d last seen him.

He stopped in front of her. “You all right?”

She nodded.

He turned to Biggs. “What happened?”

“At approximately six thirty-five A.M., I was driving through the parking lot behind the diner there when I decided to swing through the motel. I noticed broken glass in the parking space beside the Explorer, and then I noticed the broken window.” He nodded at Sara. “I thought I recognized the vehicle, so after notifying the manager, I knocked on Ms. Lockhart’s door to let her know.”

“It’s Dr. Lockhart,” Nolan said.

Biggs darted a look at her. “Sorry. I, uh, let Dr. Lockhart know about the break-in, and she took a look through the vehicle and advised me that her Nikon camera was missing, as well as her phone charger that had been plugged into the dash there.”

Nolan looked at Sara. “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

Nolan walked past her and joined the CSI examining her shattered window. They crouched beside the glass shards and talked in low voices as Sara looked on, a ball of dread forming in her stomach.

Biggs flipped through his papers and asked her to sign a few places. With a crisp nod, he headed for his car, and Sara turned her attention to Nolan, who was still talking to the CSI.

She’d left his house this morning without even saying good-bye, and yet he seemed totally normal. No sulking. No attitude. He gave no indication whatsoever that there was anything personal or contentious between them.