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“I guess not. I’ll run this by the Chief when he gets back. He might be able to approach the same individual who turned us down with a more lucrative offer. Is this for real?”
“It’s for real,” Brogan stated. “We wouldn’t toss out an offer like this if we weren’t serious.”
“Okay. Thanks. Just checking. Some folks are kind of flighty about offering to do stuff until you corner them. You know the type. All mouth, no substance.”
Lucien saw the humor in the statement and grinned. “Over the years, Brogan and I have worked hard not to be thrown into that ‘flighty’ category. But we do know the type.”
“It wasn’t a diss. I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.”
Brogan waved her off. “No worries. Could you pass along another message to Brent?”
“Sure.”
“Ask him if he ever heard of a surfer known as Zephyr. It was rumored that our Jane Doe Gidget bummed around with him during the week she was here.”
Eastlyn jotted down the information on a message pad. “Want me to ask around?”
“You interact with a lot of people every day when you’re on patrols, don’t you? People who have lived here a long time. That would be great if you could work that question into the conversation. Thanks.”
“Whatever I can do to help. You should know I tried to get Brent to let me take on the case, but he said it would take away from working dispatch and patrols. I can see his point of view, but I sure wanted to give it a try. I was surprised when he handed the case off to you guys.”
“Not as surprised as we were,” Lucien advised. “We don’t want to let anyone down. Look, we need to get going. We still have a few errands to finish before this evening.”
“Day One of the investigation,” Brogan explained. “Tell Brent we’re just getting started.”
“Will do. Good luck.”
Back at Lucien’s pickup, Brogan opened the passenger door but didn’t climb in. “Have you noticed everyone we talk to says that same thing? They end the discussion with those two little words, ‘good luck.’ Normally, I wouldn’t mind. But it’s beginning to feel like people don’t expect too much from us.”
“Then we’ll surprise the heck out of them. Hey, before heading home, we might as well run over to San Sebastian and drop off our DNA samples.”
“On a weekend?”
“This place has technicians working seven days a week.”
“Does that mean you expect a result in a few days?”
“At least by the end of next week.”
“You’re optimistic,” Brogan mumbled before climbing into the truck. “I’ll go with you to the lab, but I think we should check out Gidget’s gravesite first.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It seems like the right thing to do. Pay our respects. Could we shoot a U and head back down the street? I want to grab some flowers from Drea’s.”
“You’re serious?”
“Of course. Look, it’ll take half an hour at the most. What could it hurt to go out there to see her final resting place before the court order comes through on Monday?”
“Okay. Sure. But you’re fixing dinner.”
“Nice try, but I’m not,” Brogan protested. “You bought those steaks from Murphy. Remember? They’ll taste better cooked on the grill. That’s your area of expertise. We could invite Kelly, Beckett, Jade, and Birk over if you want. Make it a celebration of sorts.”
“Fine. I’ll text Birk and Beckett while you get the flowers.” He picked up his phone and watched her pop out of the truck and dash inside the florist.
They drove northof town to the Eternal Gardens Cemetery past the iron gates still open until dusk. Or so the sign at the entrance indicated.
“Which way?” Lucien asked.
