I nod, a few puzzle pieces falling into place.Nowhere near a full picture, but something to work with.
“Play the video,” I suggest.
We watch the TV as Ryan disappears under the cover of some low-hanging branches obscuring the driveway.Moments later, we see the back of a vehicle roll into view.
“I’ll be damned,” Haynes mutters under his breath.
On the screen a familiar Mustang turns onto the street.
If I didn’t havekids to feed at home, I likely would’ve stayed in Spokane for the night.
It feels like the case is gaining some momentum.There are still a ton of questions, but it looks like Spokane and the surrounding area may be where we’ll find our answers, and I don’t want to miss anything.
Despite not getting off to a good start, Warner and Haynes plan to work together to once again have a closer look at Ryan’s circles.Someone has to know something.They plan to interview his friends again, but this time bring them into the station and see if that might shake loose some more information.
I’ll be exploring the car theft angle closer to home.There’s a reason that Mustang ended up on an abandoned mountain logging road, smack-dab in the middle of our county.It’s easily an hour’s drive from the city, where it was stolen.It makes me think perhaps this car theft ring operation is wider spread than just Spokane and the surrounding area.
My first step in the morning will be contacting sheriff’s departments in neighboring counties.I’d like to have a look at any car theft reports to see if perhaps there are any parallels.
The other thing I want to look into is the possibility that those stolen vehicles were taken from the greater Spokane area to a less densely populated or policed area to be processed.Often times these stolen luxury vehicles are stripped of identifiable markings and shipped overseas to foreign markets.It would require a location that could facilitate a larger number of vehicles, and would have to, at least occasionally, see tractor trailers with shipping containers coming and going.Perhaps an abandoned manufacturing plant or a large farm facility.
It’s already dark by the time I hit the highway.I’ll probably get home too late to get an organized dinner on the table, so I hope the boys looked after themselves.There should be food in the fridge, I’m pretty sure we had a few frozen pizzas in the freezer, and they can always make themselves a sandwich.Still, I give Linc a quick call to check in.
“Yo, Momma.What’s up?”
My firstborn has his father’s deep voice.Luckily, any resemblance starts and ends there.Linc is far from perfect—I’m not blind to the flaws of either of my boys—but he’s a good kid with a good heart, who suffers from a surplus of confidence and a healthy dose of selfishness.Remi is more complex; he is more tenderhearted, was far more impacted by family dynamics, and has big feelings I don’t think he knows what to do with.Linc is one of those kids who’ll likely always end up on his feet with his cocky charm, whereas I see Remi struggling at every crossroads he meets.
“Checking in, buddy.I’m just on my way back from a meeting in Spokane and didn’t notice ’til now how late it is already.I hope you guys found something to eat.”
“I don’t know about the brat, but I made grilled cheese.”
“Please, don’t call your brother that, Linc,” I admonish him.
He loves to poke at Remi, and calling him a brat usually does the trick.It wouldn’t be the first time it ends in a physical altercation when I’m not around to intervene, and I won’t stand for that.
“Relax,” my eldest moderates.“He’s not even home.”
For a brief moment I panic, but then I remember he was supposed to be out with Clem this afternoon, heading to some junkyard.
“I’ll give him a call.Are you staying in?”
“Yeah, I’ve got to get started on an essay due tomorrow.”
I shake my head and groan.
“And you’re just starting now?”
“I’ve got it all in my head, Momma.No worries.”
That kid, always walking the edge.So far he’s gotten away leaving shit until the very last minute—he still scores high marks—but I’m pretty sure next September when he starts college, this lack of work ethic will come and bite him in the ass.
He ends the call before I can remind him of that.
I immediately dial Remi’s number but, after several rings, I’m bumped to his voicemail.If he’s still with Clem and on the road, they may simply have hit a pocket without cell reception.
His recorded message greets me.
“Yo, you know what to do.”
