By Paths Coincident

Chapter 27

Portland, Oregon, USA

The car wasn't designed to travel over such backwoods, unpaved roads. It was definitely not designed to hit potholes at the speed they were hitting them. Ezekiel only slowed down on the way to the location Stone's pickup had been found when rounding one-lane corners a fraction more prudently. Spring green foliage overhanging the road slapped the sides of the vehicle, but Ezekiel ignored the threat to his paintjob.

It said volumes about Eve Baird's state of mind that she made no objection to his flagrant disregard of law and safety. In the back seat, Cassandra sat wide-eyed, gripping her armrest and whispering about centrifugal force.

Rounding the final bend identified by his GPS, Ezekiel rode the brake as his car slewed to a halt just before encountering the police SUV parked at the entrance to an even less well-maintained track.

The officer stepped out of his vehicle with an odd expression on his face.

Eve met him, holding out her hand, "Detective, I'm Colonel Eve Baird. These are my associates, Cassandra Cillian and Ezekiel Jones." She ignored Ezekiel's frown when she gave his real name.

"Colonel," the officer acknowledged, shaking her hand and nodding at the other two. "Ms. Cillian, Mr. Jones. My name is Detective Ingram."

Skipping all other pleasantries, Eve asked, "Can you take us right to the truck?"

"Certainly." The detective turned and led the way along a track that had evidently been a road once but was now overgrown except where hikers had worn the ground bare.

Eve noted the broken young trees and tall grasses along the sides and between the old ruts that indicated the passage of a vehicle within the last several days. Droplets from the rain the night before still clung to leaves and stems, dampening her shoes and the bottoms of her jeans. The weather had turned clear and warm, and thanks to their brief visit to Canada, they were all over-dressed, but the forest seemed chilled.

What could have possessed Stone to come here, leaving no message that he had done so?

Rounding a gentle curve, she saw the pickup truck, parked off the track at the bottom of a slight incline. Beside her, she heard Cassandra catch her breath.

There was nothing intrinsically ominous about the scene, but Eve knew they were all feeling the desolation of the spot. She tried to comfort herself that country-bred Stone would not find such a place lonely or frightening at all, but the silent, unmoving truck seemed confirmation of their fears rather than hope of resolution. Even Ezekiel had no sarcastic commentary to add.

"I will be frank with you, Detective," Eve said. "The owner of this vehicle, Jacob Stone, is also missing, and has been for nearly 48 hours. If finding his truck fails to lead us to him, I will be filing a missing persons report."

The detective's glance was sharp and speculative. "I see. You realize you could have filed the report earlier. There is no minimum time."

"Oh, sure," Ezekiel interjected. "Middle-aged, white male leaves home in his own vehicle. Misses a day of work. Riiiight. You know they'd have told us: 'Call back after a reasonable period of time has elapsed.'" He made air quotes with his fingers, and his voice changed timber, his accent flattening in an American direction.

That had not been a paraphrase.

Detective Ingram tilted his head in wry acknowledgment of Ezekiel's point. Then he turned back to the truck. "There is no obvious evidence of mechanical failure, accident, or foul play. The doors were unlocked, the key not in the ignition or hidden any obvious place in the vehicle, and there is plenty of fuel in the tank. If you suspect some mishap has befallen your colleague, I advise leaving the truck where it is. You can fill out the necessary paperwork at the station. At that point, we will need to begin an investigation."