Robert arrived as Michael reached Voss’s SUV.
His son came across the parking lot quickly.
Fifty-one.
Dark suit.
Tie loosened.
Anger written all over his face.
He ignored Voss at first.
Went straight to Michael.
“Let me see.”
“I’m fine.”
“Dad.”
Michael tilted his face.
Robert touched near the swelling.
“You need imaging.”
“Medic said no.”
“Medic is not a doctor.”
“You’re a judge, not a doctor.”
“I can call one.”
“That doesn’t make you one.”
Voss watched them.
Robert turned.
“Investigator Voss.”
“Judge Delator.”
“What happened?”
“Your father was assaulted.”
“I gathered that.”
“We are preserving evidence.”
“Is Sheriff Mullen detained?”
“No.”
Robert’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“Because being angry is not probable cause.”
Robert looked toward the diner.
Then back.
He knew Voss was right.
That did not make him happy.
Michael said:
“Robert.”
“What?”
“There’s more.”
Robert looked at him.
“We’re going to Ruth’s.”
“Why?”
Michael held his son’s eyes.
“She left something.”
They drove in two vehicles.
Voss ahead.
Michael with Robert behind.
Ruth’s house sat on the western edge of Maple Hollow.
White clapboard.
Green shutters.
Pecan tree near the driveway.
Michael had grown up in a smaller house three lots away before their parents moved.
Ruth bought this place in 1987.
Never left.
When they arrived, Voss stopped at the curb.
A state forensic unit followed minutes later.
Michael noticed the back door first.
The scratch looked worse now.
Or maybe he finally understood it differently.
Voss photographed it.
A technician examined the lock.
“Tool marks.”
Michael looked toward him.
“You’re sure?”
“Recent enough.”
“How recent?”
“Can’t say yet.”
They entered.
Nothing obviously disturbed.
Living room neat.
Ruth’s crocheted blanket folded over the chair.
Dust on the television.
Three framed family photographs.
Michael stopped at one.
Ruth.
His wife Elaine.
Robert at twelve.
Michael much younger.
He looked away.
Study.
Desk.
Stacks of bills.
Tax statements.
The cardboard box sat exactly where he remembered.
COUNTY
Black marker.
Voss photographed it before anyone touched it.
Then gloves.
Box moved to the desk.
Michael stood in the doorway.
Robert beside him.
Voss lifted the lid.
Inside were folders.
Maps.
Copies of deeds.
Printed emails.
Photographs.