"--to cooperate. He wants to know about our caseload. Maybe something big's going down and he needs to see how busy we are. He spent some time at the sheriff's office too. Wish he'd go back and bug them. Fellow's a cold fish. Don't know what to say to him. Tried some jokes. They fell flat."
But Dance was thinking about the Tammy Foster case; Robert Harper was gone from her mind.
She and Boling returned to her office and she'd just sat down at her desk when O'Neil called. She was pleased. She guessed he'd have the results of the analysis of the bike tread dirt and the gray fiber from the sweatshirt.
"Kathryn, we have a problem." His voice was troubled.
"Go on."
"Well, first, Peter says the gray fiber they found in the cross? It matches what we found at Travis's."
"So he is the one. What'd the magistrate say about the warrant?"
"Didn't get that far. Travis's on the run."
"What?"
"He didn't show up for work. Or, he did show up--there were fresh bike tread marks behind the place. He snuck into the back room, stole some bagels and some cash from the purse of one of the workers . . . and a butcher's knife. Then he disappeared. I called his parents, but they haven't heard from him and claim they don't have any idea where he might go."
"Where are you?"
"In my office. I'm going to put out a detain alert on him. Us, Salinas, San Benito, surrounding counties."
Dance rocked back, furious with herself. Why hadn't she planned better and had somebody follow the boy when he left his house? She'd managed to establish his guilt--and simultaneously let him slip through her fingers.
And, hell, now she'd have to tell Overby what had happened.
But you didn't bring him in?
"There's something else. When I was at the bagel place, I looked up the alley. There's that deli near Safeway."
"Sure, I know it."
"They have a flower stand on the side of the building."
"Roses!" she said.
"Exactly. I talked to the owner." O'Neil's voice went flat. "Yesterday, somebody snuck up to the place and stole all the bouquets of red roses."
She understood now why he was sounding so grave. "All? . . . How many did he take?"
A slight pause. "A dozen. It looks like he's just getting started."
Chapter 12
DANCE'S PHONE RANG. A glance at Caller ID.
"TJ. Was just about to call you."
"Didn't have any luck with security cameras but there's a sale on Blue Mountain Jamaican coffee at Java House. Three pounds for the price of two. Still sets you back close to fifty bucks. But that coffee is the best."
She made no response to his banter. He noticed it. "What's up, boss?"
"Change of plans, TJ." She told him about Travis Brigham, the forensics match and the dozen stolen bouquets.
"He's on the run, boss? He's planning more?"
"Yep. I want you to get to Bagel Express, talk to his friends, anybody who knows him, find out where he might go. People he might be staying with. Favorite places."