Different Paths Read Online Free PDF Page B

watching.”
    I snorted.
    “Have a seat.” He waited until I did, then leaned forward on his desk. “What can I do for you? You’re not having problems at the farm again?”
    He was right to be concerned. In the almost-year we’d known each other he’d been out at the farm to deal with criminals way too many times. We’d seen arson, vandalism, animal cruelty, and, of course, Howie’s murder. I pushed the thoughts from my mind.
    “No problems at the farm, knock on wood.” I reached out and tapped his desk, which was made of fiberboard, so I hoped it counted. “I wanted to find out what’s going on with Carla’s truck and the investigation.”
    His face changed. “You mean Dr. Beaumont? You know her?”
    “Sure. We’re good friends. Plus, she’s my vet.”
    He shook his head. “Should’ve figured it. I just hadn’t made the connection. Have you been to see her?”
    “Yup, just now.” I filled him in on her health, then said, “So I was wondering what you could tell me about what happened yesterday? Stuff I wouldn’t have seen on the news.”
    “Not too much, except for the newest development. I just got off the phone with the Green Lane police. We put out an alert on the truck yesterday as soon as we were notified of the theft, and Green Lane received it and found Dr. Beaumont’s truck abandoned down there.”
    “You tell her yet?”
    He winced. “No. I didn’t want to bother her until I knew the full extent of the damage. But…it doesn’t look good.”
    “How come?”
    “Well, from what the Green Lane cop told me it’s pretty much a lost cause. Everything that wasn’t stolen was destroyed, and the truck’s most likely totaled. We won’t know for sure until we examine it, but that’s how it’s looking.”
    Poor Carla. She loved that truck. “The Port-a-Vet, too?”
    He nodded.
    Damn. “Where is it?”
    “Jerry’s Auto Body, out on Bethlehem Pike. Where we always have things towed and stored until we can process them.”
    “What do you hope to find?”
    He leaned back in his chair. “You never know. Hopefully something to identify the attacker. Criminals are amazingly stupid. They’ll do things like take the stolen vehicle through a drive-through and toss the trash in the back seat. That greasy paper is prime for fingerprints. Or the receipt will be in the bag with a time stamp, placing them in the vicinity at the time of the attack. Dumb stuff like that.”
    “What about fingerprints on the car?”
    “They wipe all the obvious places. Steering wheel. Door handle. But they forget a couple of prime areas, where we almost always hit pay dirt. The rear view mirror and the visor. They don’t think about it, that they touched those spots, and we’ll snag ’em.”
    “They really are dumb.”
    “Well, they’re criminals, after all. Not the smartest occupation to enter, no matter what the movies like to show.” He flipped his pencil onto the desk. “Our crime scene guy is over at Jerry’s now, checking out the truck. I was just about ready to head over.”
    Cool. “Can I come?”
    “Why not?” He gestured at my helmet. “You want to ride with me or take your bike?”
    “You driving a cop car?”
    “Sorry. Not today. No flashing lights for driving around town.”
    “Darn. Guess I’ll follow you on the bike.”
    “Your choice.”
    He grabbed his keys off of his file cabinet and stood up, moving toward the door.
    “Willard.”
    He stopped.
    “Did you hear about the police department that was burglarized and all its toilets were stolen?”
    He blinked slowly. “No.”
    “It was a shame. They couldn’t figure out who did it because they had nothing to go on.”
    He kept looking at me, blinking.
    “Sorry. Zach Granger’s fault.”
    “And you had to repeat it?”
    I shrugged. “It seemed right at the time.”
    He walked out of the office and I stood up to follow.
    Spoil sport.
    ***
    The ride to Jerry’s Auto Body was a short one, and I drove after Willard through the