The Seekers

“What?” Sebastian prodded as he ground tight steps the length of Olivia’s room.

“Someone swapped the brake switch fuse from a 5 amp to a 40 amp.”

Sebastian stilled. “What does that mean?”

“Means that if she woulda gone five more minutes down the road, smoke woulda billowed up and blinded her. She woulda choked on it. Her eyes woulda watered. Then you coulda blamed the accident on tampering.”

Five more minutes would have put her on Mountain Road—close enough to run into a sheer wall of granite or into Trotter’s Pond if she lost sight of the road.

Kershaw.

“Can you tell when the swap was made?” Sebastian asked.

“No way to tell for sure. Anytime between the last time she used the car and got into it again. It’d take about ten minutes for the wiring harness to catch fire.”

And there was no way to ask Olivia when she’d used the car last. No way to ask her if she’d had any visitors. No way to put Kershaw at the scene, with the melting snow making any trace of him vanish. Because of the time limit on the wiring fire, the tampering had to have happened at the Aerie. And that was impossible. Not with all the security he had in place. “Thanks, Cyril. I’ll need a written report.”

Cyril humphed. “Well, I got a busy day ahead’a me. It’s gonna be a coupla days.”

“I’ll need pictures of the brake switch fuse and the burnt harness.”

“Anson’s got himself a new digital camera. I’ll get him to take the pics.”

Anson was Cyril’s college-aged son. “Great. Have him e-mail me the file.” He gave Cyril his e-mail address and punched out.

The connection had barely closed before he entered another number.

“Menard,” a sleepy voice said.

“Falconer,” Sebastian said as he started pacing again. “When was the last time Olivia used her car?”

“Three days ago when she got groceries.”

“Anybody come by for a visit?”

“Only Paula and her daughter.”

Sebastian’s steps got shorter, faster. “Meter reader? UPS delivery? Anything else?”

“Special delivery from the post office two days ago. Propane yesterday.”

That gave him some place to start. “Did you make sure the security system was on at all times?”

“That’s what you pay me for,” Mario said, voice sore as if Sebastian had poked a bruise. Mario’s hawks squawked in the background.

Things weren’t stacking up right. Sebastian rubbed a hand over his chin. Could someone who’d just escaped a prison riot, killed two marshals and traveled four hours from a murder scene have been careful enough to leave no trace?

Kershaw wasn’t into finesse. He was into results. Leaving evidence would mean nothing to someone bent on revenge. He’d have wanted Sebastian to know he was the cause of his grief.

Sebastian spun on his heels and faced the closed door of Olivia’s room. If not Kershaw, then who? Who would want Olivia dead?

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