"I hear ya. Sounds too careless for the controlled individual Ms. Malone described, doesn't it? But she also said that Starks was unhinged last night. He'd just shot somebody. He wasn't thinking straight. Or maybe he was being his orderly self and went into the restroom to assess the injury to his leg."
"In other words," Dodge said, "you don't have a clue."
Ski had the grace to smile. "I'm open to ideas."
"Who the hell knows why anybody does anything? I don't. The fact is, Starks made the stop. He was seen. What does that give you, Deputy?"
"Evidence that he was indeed here last night."
Dodge's eyes narrowed. "You doubted that?"
Ski gave a noncommittal shrug. "It confirms Ms. Malone's and Lofland's statements. It explains why neither heard the car either coming or going."
"Okay."
"Once we get a positive ID on these tire prints, we'll know the make and model of the car, and I can get an APB out on it. There's no Toyota registered to Oren Starks, but Ms. Malone said he would be too smart to drive his own car."
"But dumb enough to leave fresh tire tracks." Dodge had been musing out loud, but when Ski gave him the high sign to continue his thought, he said, "This guy's supposed to be a genius, right?"
Following his thought, Ski said, "Being smart doesn't necessarily make someone a good criminal."
"No, but it helps." Dodge motioned down at the incriminating tire tracks. "This is just plain stupid."
"Stupid like fleeing the scene of the crime and going directly to a place where he'd be exposed."
"Yeah, stupid like that," Dodge said. "I don't suppose the pious fisherman got the license plate number on the Toyota."
"We're not that lucky. He wasn't definite on the color, either. 'Dark,' that's all he could tell me."
"You're gonna piss off a lot of innocent Toyota drivers who'll be stopped."
"Can't be helped." Ski waited a beat, then asked, "Have you seen enough?"
"I may come back, take a look around. If it's okay."
"You're asking permission?"
"Not really."
"What I thought."
Ski followed the outlining tape to the other side of the clearing and then walked along the overgrown track till they reached the road. His SUV was parked partially in the ditch. He opened the driver's door and reached in for a bottle of water. He passed it to Dodge, who thanked him, uncapped it, and took a drink.
"Do you need a minute to catch your breath?" Ski asked.
Dodge recapped the water bottle and tossed it back into the SUV. "Any day of the week, son, I could still whip your butt."
"Not in a fair fight."
"I never fight fair. Fair gets you killed. Didn't the Army teach you anything?"
The two men sized each other up as they had the first time they'd laid eyes on each other in the hospital corridor. Finally Dodge seemed to reach a decision. He dug into his pants pocket, withdrew something, and, reaching for Ski's hand, slapped the object into his palm.
"Amanda Lofland's cell phone."
Ski looked at the phone in his hand, then back into the private investigator's implacable eyes.
"I found it," he said. "In the hospital cafeteria."