CHAPTER TWELVE
Ilse sat in the car, her cheek pressed against the cold glass of the passenger-side window, her eyes tracking the many lights flashing by on the side of the highway as Sawyer picked up the speed. She listened to him murmuring on the phone, confirming details with the only witness who had spotted the man at the soccer competition. She could hear the frustration in her partner’s voice. They weren’t getting anywhere.
At last, Sawyer said, “Thank you, Mrs. Bristow, I appreciate your time. I’m very sorry about everything. Have a good evening.” He hung up.
Ilse glanced towards the dashboard. It was nearly ten. Well past good evening.
“Any luck?” she asked, glancing at her partner.
Sawyer let out a long sigh. “Nothing. She barely saw the guy. Said she was focused on his hands.
