Officer Collins gave her a brief tour of the office---with Detective Dalton hovering close by her elbow like an enormous, watchful shadow---hitting all the high spots he thought she'd need to be privy to, and then she was taken back to the main gallery, where she was set up at a desk in the far corner, which gave her at least the feel of privacy, due to the walls beside and behind her.

The desk directly in front of her belong to Collins, and Detective Dalton, in lieu of having his own desk, simply pulled up a chair and plopped down at the end of hers. It was more than slightly disconcerting to have a tree sized man planted next to her, with his long outstretched legs and worn cowboy boots hemming her in, but she did her best to ignore the overwhelming presence and focus on the young officer, who ran her through all the apps on her department cell and then loaded her up with all necessary supplies, which she placed in the proper compartments inside her messenger bag.

"So, that's about it. You're all set to get out there and hunt down the bad guy!" Officer Collins beamed, signaling that her impromptu orientation was ended. "Just tell me how I can help you and we'll get down to it."

"Relax, Collins. You're liable to pop a vein if you aren't careful," Detective Dalton point out in an amused tone.

Hearing that statement caused the young officer to straighten up and square his shoulders. "Sorry, ma'am. I'll try not to fan-boy too hard."

Fan-boy too hard? She didn't understand the parlance—and she suddenly felt as old as dirt—but she gave Officer Collins a quick smile anyway. "You know, since we're going to be working together, you can call me Tessa."

Officer Collins' brows shot upward. "Really, ma'am?"

"Really," she returned. "I don't like to bother with the formalities if I don't have to."

"A-alright. Tessa," the young man half whispered, glancing around as if someone might overhear and give him a raking down for showing a lack of respect. "If-if you want...I mean, only if you want to...you can call me Zeb."

"Zeb?" she repeated as she watched the young man's face flush. "That's a name I haven't come across."

"Its an old family name, ma'am. I mean, Tessa," he corrected himself. "Its short for...Zebuliah." Again, he shot a look around, only this time a bit more sheepishly, as if he expected everyone in the busy room to be listening to him. And also judging him.

"Zebuliah?" she rolled the name around in her mind for a second. "That is one of the most beautiful names I've ever heard."

Officer Zebuliah Collins' face went at least three shades redder. "I-I...thank you, ma'am. I mean, Tessa."

Flustered, Zebuliah dipped his head and hurried back to his own desk, dropping into his chair and busying himself with futzing around on his computer, leaving Tessa sitting with Detective Dalton, who was watching her with a cocked brow and an almost puzzled expression.

"Does this informal thing stand for the entire group?" he asked, his voice slightly gravelly and his words thickened by his Southern drawl.

"Absolutely," she answered, trying to pretend that drawl didn't send of tickle of gooseflesh skittering along her arms. "You can call me Tessa, if it suits you."

"Well, in that vein, you can call me Cole," he replied. "And since we're all friends now, I think I should tell you that if you're not careful, you'll have that boy over there falling in love with you. In fact, he's probably halfway there already."

Tessa cast a quick glance in Zeb's direction, allowing herself a grin. "I'll try not to break his heart."

"So, Special Detective Stark...Tessa," Cole began, moving to an upright position in his chair, "how do you want to start this? Do we hit the ground running?"

Tessa shot a look at the large digital wall clock hanging over the main door, noting that it was already nearing four thirty. Reaching for the files laid out on her desk, she quickly stacked them up and then stood, grabbing her bag from the back of her chair and slinging it on, the movement cuing Zeb to leave his own chair and quickly close the few feet separating her work station from his own.

"Its kind of late in the day to get into anything too involved. But, I would like to go to the crime scene and have a look around," she stated.

"The crime scene?" Zeb chimed in, confused. "Its nothing but an empty stretch of highway. There can't be anything there."

"True. But, this case began when Hallie Whitmore was found dead on Route 44, so that's where I need to start," she said firmly.

"I'll give you a ride out," Cole Dalton stated, getting to his feet and adjusting his worn leather shoulder holster to a more comfortable position.

"Oh, my Wagoneer is in the lot across the street. I can drive myself," she declined. "I have to get back to my motel and grab a shower when I'm through--"

"Where's your motel?" Cole wondered.

"On Pinedale. Its the Desert Rose," she replied, watching Zeb's face register surprise.

"Wow. Mid-grade accommodations. How'd you score that?"

Tessa lifted a shoulder. "Blind luck, I guess."

"Pinedale is right on the way to and from Route 44," Cole pointed out. "You can drop your car there and I'll drop you back when we're done. How's that for luck?"

Yes. How was that for luck? 

 "Will you keep the files handy, Zeb? In case I need some of the details?"

"Yes, ma'am. And I'll make sure they get back into the file room before I clock out," came the response. "I'm in your cell, if you need me."

"Thank you," she said before turning back to Detective Cole Dalton and resigning herself as she looked up...and up...and up...at him. "So, Cole, I reckon you get to take me back to the beginning..."

*  *  *  *  *  *

After dropping her Wagoneer off at the Desert Rose, she climbed into Cole's jeep and they headed through the early evening, navigating their way through the snarl of traffic and toward their destination.

Since Cole's jeep had all the doors and the roof removed, leaving it open to the blue skies and the heated rush of wind, his presence beside her was somewhat lessened, allowing her to try and enjoy the drive through the sprawling city. The route they were taking led them through a part of Santa Maria that was comprised of high rise buildings, hotels with formally dressed doormen standing outside, and the kind of fancy looking restaurants where a salad and a glass of water costed more than a full tank of gas.

The longer they drove, the more the buildings and businesses began to thin out, giving way to the streets of a residential neighborhood that was clearly built on the right side of the tracks, if the size of the homes meant anything. And the farther they traversed, the larger those homes became, homes that were interspersed with stands of tall trees and playgrounds and park spaces, which seemed to lessen some of the openness of the earth and sky, making her feel a little less...visible.

Before long, they were driving past grand estate homes sitting behind high, wrought iron fences, most of them Hacienda style dwellings constructed of either pale brick or stucco, all with red tiled roofs. Between the fine homes, she could catch glimpses of the bright green grass of a golf course and the glimmering blue of a man-made lake, making it quite obvious that the families living in the neighborhood certainly didn't have to worry over the price of eggs, as her mamaw used to say.

Neither she nor Cole had spoken since leaving her hotel, which she rather appreciated, but at last it was Cole who finally broke the amicable silence between them. "This is the neighborhood everyone calls The Grove!" he shouted above the wind that was buffeting them. "Route 44 is just up ahead!"

Hearing that, she pulled her new work cell from the outside pocket of her purse and worked the screen, finding Officer Collins' name on the call list and punching the Dial button.

"Special Detective Stark? What can I do for you?" Zeb answered almost immediately, sounding so official that she knew there must be perked ears close by.

"Are you able to take a look at the files for me, Zeb?" she questioned, putting a hand over her free ear to block out some of the racket.

"Yes, ma'am. They're right here in front of me," came the response.

"Can you tell me how many miles down Route 44 they found Hallie Whitmore's car? If that information was noted."

There was a brief pause on Officer Collins' end. "Hallie Whitmore's Lexus was found 7.2 miles down Route 44, turning in from Belmont Avenue."

"Thank you, Zeb. I'll get back with you if I need anything else." Ending the call, she put her cell away and turned to Cole. "We need to travel 7.2 miles down Route 44! That will get us to the exact location of the crime scene!"

Cole reached for his cell, sitting in the hand's-free mount attached to his dashboard, and punched a few buttons. Slowing down, he took a left turn onto a side street and braked to a stop, giving the phone screen another tap before continuing.

The two lane road was void of any homes and the trees lining both sides swiftly began to dwindle so that, before long, she was catching sight of the arid landscape. By the time Cole brought the jeep to a halt, the trees had long since vanished and they were surrounded by nothing but wide open desert that was thick with summer scrub.

As soon as Cole cut the engine, Tessa unlatched her seatbelt and slid to the ground, taking a glance around. Before them, the ribbon of asphalt wound away into the hazy distance and to the left and right there was only flat earth sweeping out toward the horizon. But, behind them, only a few miles away, could be seen Santa Maria, glimmering like a jewel in the sunlight.

"This road leads directly to Nathan Rutherford's house?" she asked, rounding the front of the jeep and moving over toward the center line.

"Its a round about way to get there, but yeah. This road, Route 44, goes on out into the desert and eventually hits Yancey and San Antonio," Cole explained. "But, a few miles up ahead there's an old access road that leads to the edge of the city and the South Southwest neighborhood. The Rutherford residence is the only one on that stretch."

"So, why would someone drive all the way out here to get to the Rutherford house?" she asked, thinking that nothing short of a bodily threat could have gotten her to drive through what felt like the middle of nowhere when she could have just driven through the city.

Cole lifted a large shoulder. "Likely to avoid all the downtown traffic. It adds miles, but it saves time. And I'd say it has a little to do with the fact that there aren't any patrols out this way, so the speed limit doesn't have to be much of a factor."

Hearing that explanation, Tessa again looked around at all the...stark nothingness, at the open sky and the endless scrub. She could feel the heat of the sun bearing down on her and the waves of heat coming up at her as the sun's rays reflected off the asphalt. She'd only been out of the jeep for a couple of minutes and she was already damp with sweat, with her face throbbing in time to her heartbeat.

And then her gears stared turning.

"Hallie Whitmore was on her way to a night out," she spoke, feeling as if her voice got all but swallowed up by the desert. "The crime scene photos show her wearing a fancy dress and a ton of makeup."

"I only glanced at the files when I was handed the case this morning, but I did notice the girl's dress," admitted Cole, swiping a hand over his forehead. "Is that significant for you?"

She took a beat to look down at her shirt, which was already clinging to her body and probably showing wet spots in some very unflattering places. "I'd say it probably took her forever to do her hair and makeup. Or have it done for her. So, I wouldn't think she'd want to get out of the car's air conditioning just because. Her makeup would have been ruined in a few second's flat."

"Okay?" Cole hedged as Tessa moved back to the jeep and slid behind the wheel. "But, she did get out of the car."

"She did. But, if I'd just spent hours on hair and makeup, it would have taken some kind of something to get me out into this heat and have it all messed up," she said, speaking mostly to herself.

Cole stepped up to the jeep, his large form blocking out the blistering sun. "Right. My first thought was that somebody might have been in the car with her? Maybe a friend was tagging along?  And maybe they got into an argument and decided to take it out into the middle of the road?"

The photograph of Hallie Whitmore's death pose flashed through her mind. "Her purse was lying in the passenger seat. If someone else was in the car, they would have either been in the back seat, or if they'd been in the front, they would've had to put her purse into the passenger seat after they got out of the car?"

And if that person had touched Hallie Whitmore's purse, a bit of them would have been left behind.

"She could have been the passenger," Cole pointed out.

Tessa pulled her work cell out and punched the screen, putting it on speaker and waiting for Zeb to answer. "Zeb, the interior of Hallie Whitmore's car was processed for evidence, yes?"

"Yes," Zeb answered and she heard him rifling through the pages in the file folder.

"Can I assume Hallie's purse was processed, too?" she wondered.

There was a moment's pause. "Yes. The purse was processed for prints and DNA, the contents photographed and cataloged. But, no useful evidence was detected."

"Can you tell me about the evidence that wasn't useful?" she asked the young man, trying to ignore the trickles of sweat running down the back of her neck.

"Uh, one second..." There was another span of silence between them. "The report states that there were a multitude of prints and smudges on nearly every surface inside the vehicle, as well as all four exterior door handles. In fact, too many to bother with trying to process. The same for hair and fiber evidence. There was only one set of prints on the purse, though. And they belonged to Hallie Whitmore."

"Nearly every surface?  What about the driver's side of the car?" she wondered.

"The prints collected from the steering wheel, the interior door handle, the turn signal, gear shift...all matched up to Hallie Whitmore's prints," came the reply.

Tessa allowed that information to sink in for a few beats. "Thank you, Zeb."

"So, Hallie Whitmore didn't mind having people in her car. She just never let anyone drive her car," Cole stated.

"And since nothing in the car was wiped down to try and get rid of any prints, and there were no other prints on her purse, at least we know that Hallie Whitmore was driving and that she was most probably alone. Which means that she stopped here because of something outside the car."

Cole wiped a hand over his damp face. "Nothing was stolen, so that strikes robbery. And I doubt Hallie Whitmore would have stopped the car for someone she didn't know anyway."

Tessa put the cell away and turned her attention out the windshield, taking in the empty road ahead. She had to agree with Detective Dalton. A deserted stretch of road, a young woman driving alone...

Swinging her legs out of the jeep, and forcing Cole to take a few steps backward, she got to her feet and walked forward, putting a bit of space between herself and the safety of the vehicle, and then she paused...listening to the profound quiet that was broken only by the thick wind rustling through the tall grasses. Civilization was miles away...which meant that help would also be miles away.

She was a law officer and was almost always armed and she probably wouldn't have stopped driving.  Unless... "So, what if Hallie stopped the car for someone she did know? What if a car she recognized was on the side of the road? She would have stopped and gotten out to see what was wrong."

"It was an ambush?" Cole intoned as he stepped up beside her.

"Maybe? But, if that was the case, someone had to have known that she would be coming out this way, so they could be waiting here for her," she added.

"Maybe someone who knew she'd be coming to meet him for a date?" posed Detective Dalton.

Tessa gave a nod. "Knowing her attacker would explain why she didn't try to run or fight back. She wasn't afraid. And she wasn't expecting it."

"That's obviously pre-meditation. But, if the murder weapon was a screwdriver, to me that says the weapon was grabbed spur of the moment, just because it was at hand," Cole tossed that thought out.

She rolled that point around for a few moments. A screwdriver did sound spur of the moment, very...grabbing something in a fit of rage. It was also a very unusual choice. Knives, guns, ligatures, bare hands, even poison...those were all fairly common tools of the trade. She couldn't remember ever investigating a case involving a screwdriver as the murder weapon.

And she couldn't overlook the fact that it wasn't a weapon that most women would immediately go for.  In her own home, she'd have to literally go searching for that particular item and would probably only find it by sheer luck.

"If it was spur of the moment, maybe the killer realized he was looking at his chance?" Cole went on.  "Maybe he was looking at his only chance, so he just grabbed the first thing that looked like it might do the job before he ran out of the house."

"That's a valid theory, Detective Dalton," she admitted. "And again, it would have to be someone who knew exactly when Hallie would be driving down this road. And someone who felt confident enough that they wouldn't be seen killing someone in broad daylight and right out in the open."

"Which puts Nathan Rutherford in the center of the frame."

"Welp, he seems like as good a place to start as any," she conceded.

Having not even cracked open the previous detective's suspect list, she couldn't set her mind on any single person, but at first glance, it would seem that Nathan Rutherford might want to start working on his missing alibi.