Sam pointed. “There, next to the kitchen table. He was leaning over the table and shoving things into his pockets.”
Logan went to the place she’d indicated, next to the kitchen table. “Was he taller or shorter than me?”
“Shorter. About six inches.”
Logan stood at six-two. “So he’s around five-eight.”
Sam nodded.
“What about his build?” Logan tapped his own chest.
“Not big.” Sam shook her head. “He looked normal for his height.”
Tessa turned to Sam’s mother. “Did you see him, Marsha?”
“No.” Marsha worried the edges of her robe. “I heard Sam scream and ran in the room after he went out the back door. I saw his shadow go over the fence.”
“We’ll check for footprints too.” Tessa took a photo of the kitchen table. “Could you tell his race or hair color?”
“Sorry, no.” Sam folded her arms across her waist. When Tessa and Cate had brought her home, Sam had been startlingly skeletal, like a strong breeze would have snapped her in two. Though she’d gained weight, she still looked frail and vulnerable.
Anger swelled in Logan’s chest.
“I can’t believe this happened,” Marsha said. “We should have already installed a security system.”
“Do you know what he took?” Tessa asked.
Sam nodded. “Some metal wire and a tool kit: pliers, snippers, a small knife.”
Tessa and Logan exchanged glances.
“Maybe it was Carl Hammer. He’s five-eight,” Logan suggested.
“There was a coil of metal wire and a multitool in the backpack he left behind,” Tessa said. “Maybe he wanted to replace his supplies.”
“If he is trying to make a camp somewhere, he’ll want to set up his perimeter alarms,” Logan added.
Logan and Tessa walked out back. The tiny plot of grass had been trampled. On the other side of the picket fence, the ground was too rocky for footprints.
Tessa returned to her vehicle for her fingerprinting kit. She swirled powder on the back door.
“Prints?” Logan asked.
“No. They’re all too smudged.” Tessa wiped the powder off the door handle and glass, then spent the next hour filling out paperwork. Logan counted windows and doors, sketched a quick schematic for the security system, and measured the back door.
Logan checked the time. Barely six thirty. He turned to Sam and Marsha. “I took some measurements. I’ll see what I can get at the hardware store when it opens. I’m sure I can add a metal bar to the door today. It’ll take a few days for the rest. I’ll have to go to the mainland for the alarm parts and cameras.”
“Thank you, Logan.” Marsha wiped an eye. “I can’t believe this is happening. Break-ins are so rare here,” said the same woman whose daughter had been kidnapped from the island as a teenager.
Marsha was sweet, but she wasn’t the sharpest knife in the block.
“Are you going to be okay here?” Tessa asked.
Sam nodded. “I’m going to the bakery.” She’d been working part time for Cate.
“Good,” Tessa said. “If you need anything, call me.”
“I will,” Sam agreed.
Logan and Tessa went outside. Tessa headed for her SUV.
Logan turned toward his Range Rover. “I’m stopping at the bakery. Any requests?”
“Coffee,” Tessa said.
“Food?”
“Whatever looks good.” She opened her vehicle door and stepped in. “I’ll meet you at the station.”
Logan drove to Black Tail Bakery. His sister, Cate, had bought both the bakery and the bookstore when she’d resigned from the FBI the previous Christmas. The front door was unlocked, and he went inside. The bakery smelled like fresh coffee and pastries.
“Cate?” Logan called.
“In the back.” His sister stepped into the doorway. She wore a smile and an apron covered with flour. She’d relaxed since she quit the bureau. She pointed at Logan. “Blueberry fritter?” She knew his favorite.
“Always.” He grinned. “I need coffee and breakfast for me and Tessa.”
“What are you in the mood for? I hear you had a long day at the crime scene yesterday.”
“We did.” Logan went to the coffee station and selected two large cups. “I feel like we should eat something relatively healthy.”
“I have egg soufflés,” Cate suggested.
Hope swirled in Logan’s gut. “Bacon and cheese?”
Cate wiped her hands on her apron. “I thought you said you wanted something healthy? I have spinach.”
Logan shuddered. “My body would go into shock if I ate spinach this early in the morning.”
“Then bacon and cheese it is. Do you want your usual fritter too?”
“Of course. Make it two.”
Cate bagged their pastries while Logan told her about their call to Sam’s house.
“Oh, no!” Cate wrapped the soufflés in wax paper. “I’ll keep an eye on her while she’s working and escort her home afterward.”
“Great.” Logan took the bag of food from his sister and dug a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. “I can secure her door today, but the alarm system will take a few days.”
Cate refused the money. “You’re family.”
“And you have a new business.” Logan left the bill on the counter.
She frowned at the money. “I’ll take care of Sam’s door lock. You go help Tessa.”
“It’s a deal.” He took the food back to his vehicle.
It was seven o’clock when he parked in front of the station. The Widow’s Island sheriff’s station was slightly larger than a trailer. It boasted two desks and a holding cell the size of a phone booth.
Tessa sat at one of the desks, typing on a computer. “I’m running a background check on Carl Hammer.”
Logan fished Tessa’s food from the bag and set it and her coffee on her desk. Then he settled in at the second desk and unwrapped his breakfast. The coffee, fat, and sugar hit his bloodstream, and he got comfortable.
“Carl’s last-known address is in Seattle. His driving record is clean. Here we go.” She unwrapped her soufflé and took a bite. “He has a record, but it’s old.” She scrolled. “Two years ago, he was arrested for stealing a car, but he got off with a fine and community service.”
“So he’s no choirboy,” Logan said. “What can I do?”
“Could you track down the owner of the house on Mimosa Street?” Tessa lifted her coffee, then started on her fritter. For the next two hours, she typed reports, and Logan searched online property and tax records. The house was owned by Bill Jones. His current address was listed as Bellingham, Washington. The phone number was a cell. Logan called him, introduced himself, and informed him of the body found in his cellar.
“Shit.” Bill cursed a few more times. “How will I unload a property that had two dead bodies in it?”
“Two?” Logan asked.
“Yeah,” Bill said. “The old guy who owned it died years ago. I bought the place for practically nothing from his kids. I planned to fix it up and sell it, but I ran out of money. Renovations cost more than I expected.”