From the first bite, the toasted sandwich of melted cheese, onions, tomatoes, and avocado topped with some kind of wasabi mayo hit the spot. Washing a bite down with the soda didn’t hurt either. She could almost feel her energy level rise while Double T dug into meatballs, sauce, and melted cheese oozing over a thick slab of bread.
“Getting anywhere?” he asked, hitching his chin at her notes.
“Nowhere fast . . . or nowhere slow. Take your pick.” She took another bite. “Forensics isn’t back on the bullets from the victims, but I bet they match. And the lab is still working on trying to find any DNA on the laminated masks, also checking the paper and elastic bands so we can start tracking down anyone who might have bought the products used.”
“A long shot.”
“But a shot. Right now I’ll take one from a BB gun fired two miles away.” Another bite. Yeah, she was definitely feeling better. “What about you?”
“Got a call from Larry Sparks.” At the raise of her eyebrows, he clarified, “Sparks is a lieutenant with the OSP. Get this, he’s been tracking down registrations for a 2007 Hyundai. Santa Fe. An SUV.”
“And you’re telling me this now . . . why?”
“He’s doing it as a favor to a friend.”
She still didn’t get it, but from the smug smile on Double T’s face, this information meant something. “And I, or we, care?”
“Hmm.” He took another bite followed by a long swallow from his cup. “His friend is Shane Carter.”
“Jenna Hughes’s husband.” Now he had her attention.
“Yep. And they’re looking for the vehicle because . . . well, here’s where it gets a little off the grid.” She waited impatiently while he chewed, then he said, “Some kid at the hospital where Cassie Kramer was a patient saw this car in the lot. An unusual car for the lot . . . well, the kid’s unusual, too, knows all sorts of trivia shit and cars are one of his interests. Supposedly he can name any make and model since they were invented, or something like that.” He waved his explanation away, as if it didn’t matter. “Anyway, because Cassie thought someone came into her room and told her that her sister was alive, but you know, left without giving any information, she’s trying to track the woman down.”
“Whoa, whoa. Wait. Back up. Why is this the first time we’ve heard about a woman with information about Allie Kramer?”
“Well, that’s the ‘off the grid’ part. Turns out the woman was wearing an old-time nurse’s uniform, you know, with the stiff cap, white dress, and shoes? And there’s no nurse at the hospital fitting that description.”
“Of course,” she said dryly, her sandwich temporarily forgotten. “So . . . what’re you saying?”
“According to Carter—because I talked to him after I got the call from Sparks—Cassie Kramer didn’t want to come off sounding like some kind of a nut.”
“You mean more of a nut.”
“Yeah. That’s what I mean.”
“So now she’s got the OSP chasing ghosts?” she asked. She picked up her sandwich again.
“Maybe.”
“Good use of the taxpayers’ dollars,” she observed.
“There’s more.”
“Of course there is. Hopefully not more detective work courtesy of a patient in a mental ward.”
“Nope. According to Carter, they’re bringing in another mask.”
“What?” She was raising half the sandwich to her mouth, but stopped. “A mask? Like the ones found on the victims?”
“That’s right. Of Allie Kra
mer again, and yeah, all messed up. Disfigured.”
Nash leaned back in her chair, her gaze pinned on her partner, her interest spiked. She felt a little uptick in her pulse. The mask actually linked Cassie to the crimes, was concrete physical evidence. “Why does she have a mask? How did she get it?”
One side of his mouth lifted. “Get this: She claims it was left in her apartment in California, she found it in a suitcase after she thought her place was broken into.”
“She file a report?”