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When they spotted a police cruiser, they suspected Police Chief Lando Bonner had decided to oversee the dive location personally.
By the time Lucien pulled up, more onlookers—at least seventy neighbors—had gathered near the bend in the road to gawk at the goings-on. Among them, a discussion broke out about why Terra Search & Recovery was on site.
“Why are all these people here? Why doesn’t Bonner shoo them away?” Brogan wondered.
Lucien kept his eyes glued to the boats as each made one pass, then another. “No reason to yet, not until Birk or Beckett come up with something.”
Brogan sat wide-eyed in the passenger seat, watching the Callahan brothers divide the area into two grids. Beckett took the west side of the embankment fifteen feet offshore, while Birk took the eastern section twenty yards further. Each skiff was equipped with sonar and kept making the rounds, inching closer to the shoreline with each pass.
“Maybe we should introduce ourselves to Lando Bonner while we’re here,” Brogan suggested, staring over at the lanky police chief. “You never know when it might come in handy to have connections to another cop.”
“Good idea. When the opportunity presents itself, we should take advantage. Let’s see what kind of a guy he is.”
They crossed to where Bonner stood, arms folded over his chest, intent on watching the boats make another pass along the shoreline.
“Hi,” Brogan began, sticking out her hand. “I’m the one who emailed you about Lyssa’s and Conor’s disappearance. Brogan Cole. This is my husband, Lucien Sutter.”
“So you’re the ones who kicked this whole thing off?” Lando remarked, reaching out to shake hands with the couple.
“Daniel Cardiff is the one who asked us to look into it,” Lucien remedied. “He lives in Pelican Pointe now.”
“I heard. Whatever the reason, I know the Callahans have a rep for getting the job done. They’re all about getting results. With any luck, they’ll be able to find the car today and maybe close a cold case that’s been hanging around town for a decade. God knows it’s had its share of nasty rumors flying around.”
“Let me guess. These speculations center around Daniel Cardiff,” Lucien prompted.
“Yep. For years people have been accusing Daniel of all kinds of things—the last one to see her—that sort of thing. Small towns are made up of nosy people who love to gossip about anyone and anything.” Lando studied the crowd. “The turnout says it all. We might be able to put those rumors to bed today for good if those guys find the Charger and the remains. All I need is verification that this is the spot where they went into the water. I’ve got the tow truck standing by. My team can be here within thirty minutes. And the Tribal Police is on speed dial.”
“So this isn’t your case?” Brogan asked.
“It is mine. Lyssa Mayfield was a local Coyote Wells girl. Our department caught the disappearance and wrote up the initial report. Then a few weeks later, we learned about Conor from his family. Another missing person, another report. But if the remains end up on this side of Spirit Lake, that’s on Tribal Land. I’ll have no choice but to hand it off to the Tribal Police.”
“Did you tell Lyssa’s family about this effort?” Lucien asked.
Lando bobbed his head toward a couple in their mid-fifties, huddled together with other relatives. “That’s the Mayfields. They convinced themselves that Daniel murdered their daughter and got rid of her that night. They’ve needled me about arresting him for years.”
“But you had no evidence he had done anything wrong?”
“It came to light pretty quick that Lyssa was seeing another guy. And I had a witness that saw her get into a green vehicleafterDaniel dropped her off. The Mayfields refused to consider the idea that Lyssa was seeing anyone but Daniel. I’m sure that’s why Lyssa snuck out that night—to keep the affair secret from her parents. When I took over the case, I discovered Lyssa had been dating this guy for at least two months. Her friends didn’t even know about it. But I found out Conor went into the market daily to pick up something for supper. Instead of eating with his construction crew buddies at the motel where they were staying, he ate dinner with Lyssa. The owners of the grocery store saw the two together frequently.”
“But you couldn’t get the Mayfields to believe it,” Brogan surmised.
“Nope. They were steadfast in their belief that Daniel was the culprit.”
Lucien noticed Beckett and Birk meeting in the middle of the grid, closing the distance to each other. “It looks like they’ve narrowed their search to one specific part of the lake.”
Brogan cupped her hand over her eyes to block out the sun. “There’s movement on Beckett’s boat. I see a thumbs-up sign. It looks like he spotted something on sonar.”
Sure enough, Beckett called out, “We’re ready to dive on what looks like a vehicle thirty-five feet below the surface. It’s wedged up against a solid wall of muck.”
“Could you use more divers?” Lando shouted.
“Ask me that after I get a look at it up close,” Beckett returned before putting on his gear.
Everyone onshore played the waiting game. After an hour, Beckett resurfaced, headed toward his brother standing on the shoreline.
Birk helped him out of the water. “Is it them?”
“It’s definitely the Charger. I had to dig out the back plate from the mud. It’s impossible to remove it, but I took a photo. I couldn’t get to the front of the car, though. It’s buried.” He brought out the underwater camera photo and handed it to Birk.
