“You got that right. I heard about the snow expected here and got on the first flight back. You know how I love the snow,” Stan confessed, trying to peer past my dad at the bones.
“I also know how you love to investigate old bones,” my dad said. “But how did you find out about these bones?”
“A friend at CSU called me. I was just finishing up breakfast at Zelda’s place. Can’t resist her blueberry pancakes. Now when are you going to move and let me have a look? You know that I know better than to disturb anything before CSU gets here.”
My dad grinned and stepped aside.
Stan studied the gravesite carefully, keeping a distance around its perimeter, rubbing his chin as he went and staying out of Josh’s way. “Doesn’t appear he was buried that deep.”
My dad stepped next to Stan to talk.
Ian nudged me and whispered, “Is everything all right with Amy? Your da seems upset with what you’re going to tell her.”
I had no problem confiding the news in Ian. “My dad spotted Amy’s father in town. He left her and her mom when Amy was six and she hasn’t heard from him since. He broke Amy’s and her mom’s hearts. I don’t know what she’s going to do when she finds out.”
“You’ll be there for her like always,” Ian assured me. “Beau will be as well. We will all help her through it.”
I was about to tell Ian he wasn’t a bad guy for a Viking when I saw my dad turn, something dangling from his gloved finger and his face a mask of disbelief.
“It’s Travis Rodgers,” my dad said.
I was familiar with the name. My dad had mentioned it now and again throughout the years. It was the one case that had haunted him since he’d been a rookie police officer.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
A necklace dangled from his glove-covered hand. “Rita Carson had a similar broken heart necklace around her neck when we found her. It was all the craze back then. The two heart-shaped pieces fit when joined together. Hers had Travis engraved on the back. This one has Rita engraved on it.”
“With that and the DNA from the bones, you should have no trouble getting a positive identification,” Stan said.
“You knew Travis Rodgers?” I asked Stan.
“Not personally. I saw him around now and again and my sister mentioned him since she was about his age at the time. He had quite a reputation for being short-tempered.”
My dad shook his head slowly. “Which was what made me assume him guilty then and all these years. I thought for sure he killed Rita and ran off, yet here he was all this time—a victim just like her.”
“He was the likeliest suspect,” I said, seeing how it disturbed my dad that he’d been wrong.
“I was so set on his guilt that I didn’t bother to look elsewhere, and I let a killer,”—he shook his head again— “of not just one person but two people get away.”
“You can’t solve them all.” Stan pointed out. “Besides you were a novice and a new dad. Danny was barely a year old if I remember correctly. You had plenty of other stuff on your mind.”
“That was no excuse,” my dad said.
“Then revisit the cold case and see if you can finally solve it,” Stan said.
My dad’s eyes met mine and I knew without him saying a word that he was going to ask for my help, and I sent him a firm nod.
My dad chased Ian and me back to the lodge, promising to stop there once he was finished at the scene. Stan stayed as well, chatting about that time thirty-five years ago.
Mo ran ahead of us to the lodge, eager for snacks from just about everyone.
“We’re going to have to build a suspect list,” Ian said, his hand closed firm around mine as we walked to the lodge. “That’s going to be a challenge since the crime took place thirty-five years ago.”
I grinned and he smiled, and when Ian smiles, it really captures the heart and tempts the senses.
“I cannot believe I’ve been lucky enough to find someone who enjoys a good murder as much as I do,” I said, and the effect his smile had on me wasn’t so bad either.
“The feeling is more mutual than you know, Pep. Ah cannae wait to dig our teeth into this case.”
The lodge’s great room was abuzz with activity and talk as the models enjoyed coffee, tea, juices, and breakfast items made available for them.
I leaned close to Ian and whispered, “You have very well-behaved Vikings.”
Ian laughed. “I do my best to keep the savages in hand.”
I looked to see Mo patiently moving from one person to the next, getting a bit of food from each and every one of them. Once finished, he would no doubt deposit himself in front of the large stone fireplace, logs crackling, and nap.