Amelia Cordell led McCaleb out to the Chevy Suburban. They had already discussed her husband’s clothing and jewelry. Nothing had been taken, she assured him, just as the ATM video had seemed to attest. That left the Suburban.
“No one’s been in it?” he asked as she was unlocking it.
“I drove it home from the sheriff’s office. That was actually the only time I ever drove it. Jimmy bought it for work only. He said if we started using it for nonwork driving, he couldn’t write everything off. I don’t drive it because it’s too high up for me to be climbing in and out of all the time.”
McCaleb nodded and leaned into the truck through the open driver’s door. The rear seat was folded down and the cargo area was full of surveying equipment, a folding drafting table and other tools. McCaleb quickly dismissed it all. It was equipment, not something of a personal nature.
He concentrated on the front section of the vehicle. A patina of road dust covered everything. Cordell must have been driving in the desert with the windows down. Using one finger, he opened a pocket on the door and saw it was crammed with service station receipts and a small spiral notebook on which Cordell had noted mileage, dates and destinations. McCaleb took the notebook out and flipped through the pages to see if there had been any trips to the west Valley, particularly Chatsworth or Canoga Park. There were none recorded. It appeared Amelia Cordell had been correct about her husband.
He flipped down the driver-side visor and found two folded maps. McCaleb walked them around to the front and opened them on the hood. One was a gas station map of central California and another was a survey map that showed the aqueduct and its many access roads. McCaleb was looking for any unusual notations Cordell might have made on the maps but there were none. He refolded them and put them back.
He now sat in the driver’s seat and looked around. He noticed the rearview mirror and asked Amelia Cordell if her husband had ever hung anything off it, knickknacks or otherwise. She said she didn’t remember anything.
He checked the glove compartment and the center console. There was more paperwork and several tapes for use in the stereo, an assortment of pens and mechanical pencils, and a pack of opened mail. Cordell liked country music. Nothing seemed amiss. Nothing came to mind.
“Do you know if he had any particular kind of pen or pencil he liked? Like a special pen he might have gotten as a gift or something?”
“I don’t think so. Nothing I remember.”
McCaleb took the rubber band off the mail and looked through the envelopes. It appeared to be departmental mail, notices of meetings, reports on problems on the aqueduct that Cordell was to check out. McCaleb put the band back around the stack and placed it back in the glove box. Amelia Cordell watched him silently.
In an open bin between the seats there was a pager and a pair of sunglasses. Cordell had been coming home at night when he stopped at the ATM. That explained why the glasses were not on, but not the beeper.
“Mrs. Cordell, do you know why his pager is here? How come he wasn’t wearing it?”
She thought a moment and then said, “He usually didn’t keep it on his belt for long rides because he said it was uncomfortable. He said it dug into his kidneys. He forgot it a few times. You know, left it in the car and missed his pages. That’s how I know why.”
McCaleb nodded. As he sat there thinking about what to check next, the passenger door was suddenly opened and Buddy Lockridge looked in.
“What’s up?”
McCaleb had to squint to look at him because of the sun coming into the car over Buddy’s shoulder.
“I’m almost done, Buddy. Why don’t you wait in the car?”
“My ass was getting sore.” He looked past McCaleb and nodded at Amelia Cordell. “Sorry, ma’am.”
McCaleb was annoyed by the intrusion but introduced Lockridge as his associate to Amelia Cordell.
“So what are we looking for?” Buddy asked.
“We? I’m just looking for something that’s not here. Why don’t you wait in the car?”
“Like something that might’ve been taken. I see.”
He flipped down the passenger-side visor. McCaleb had already checked it and there was nothing there.
“I got it, Buddy. Why don’t you-”
“What went there, a picture?”
He pointed toward the dashboard. McCaleb followed the line of his finger but didn’t see anything.
“What are you talking about?”
“There. See the dust? Looks like a picture or something. Maybe he kept a parking pass there until he needed it.”
McCaleb looked again but still didn’t see what Lockridge was pointing at and talking about. He shifted to his right and leaned toward Buddy and then turned his head back to look at the dashboard.
Now he saw it.
