It was a simple mechanism and picking the lock didn't take long, especially for a dentist with nimble fingers. In less than a minute, Hannah and Norman had ducked under the crime scene tape and were standing inside Sheriff Grant's home office.
"This looks more like somebody's bedroom than an office," Norman commented.
"That's because it was a bedroom. It belonged to Sheriff Grant's son, Jamie and it's just the way he left it when he went away to college. Sheriff Grant wouldn't let Nettie throw away any of Jamie's things after he died."
"How long ago was that?"
"Almost three years. Don't you think that's a little weird?"
Norman shrugged. "Maybe, if it's an obsession. But if the sheriff just wanted to hang onto his son's things a little longer, I can understand that."
Hannah turned to look at Norman in awe. He'd managed to walk the fence brilliantly. When the next political office opened up, she was going to nominate him.
"Let me take a base set of pictures," Norman said, proceeding to do just that. "We'll want to remember what this looked like before we started to search."
When Norman had taken pictures from every angle, Hannah handed him a pair of gloves. "I brought these for you. We don't want to leave fingerprints. You can start in the closet and I'll try Sheriff Grant's desk."
"Okay. What are we looking for?"
"Briefcases. If you find any, give a holler. We're also looking for anything that looks like it doesn't belong in a teenager's room or a home office."
Hannah slipped on her own gloves and went through the desk. All she found were old bills, canceled checks, and household accounting records. It looked as if Sheriff Grant had moved all of Jamie's things into one drawer when he'd commandeered the desk. The lower left-hand drawer contained a college catalogue, several transcripts of Jamie's high school grades, a program from the senior prom, a stack of CliffsNotes with sections highlighted in yellow marker, and the thick, dog-eared book Jamie had used to study for the SATs. There was nothing at all from the sheriff's department and nothing to indicate which case Sheriff Grant had been working on at the time of his death.
"I found a briefcase, Hannah," Norman's voice was muffled and Hannah could tell he was in the depths of the closet.
"Is it brown?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll take it with us. Just set it aside and keep looking. "
"Okay. Did you find anything in the desk?"
"Not really, unless you're interested in a stack of CliffsNotes."
"A stack of what?"
"CliffsNotes. You know, the yellow and black pamphlets kids use to cram for tests?"
"Oh, those. I thought they were called CliffNotes, like somebody sat on top of a cliff and wrote them."
"No, it's CliffsNotes, like a guy named Cliff Hillegass formed a company to publish them in nineteen fifty-something."
"Okay, I stand corrected. Did you find anything else?"
"Nothing important." Hannah pushed back the desk chair and went to the dresser to check the drawers. They were filled with Jamie's clothes and Hannah felt a bit like a ghoul as she went through piles of his underwear, socks, and handkerchiefs.
"Ouch!" Norman yelped from the recesses of the closet.
"What's wrong?" Hannah asked, hurrying over to see if she could help.
"I just stubbed my toe on something hard. Hand me a flashlight, will you?"
Hannah passed Norman the flashlight she'd brought from her truck and held Jamie's clothing out of the way so that he could see what he'd encountered.
"Looks like a box of car parts," Norman said, backing out of the closet and dragging the box out after him. "Jamie probably had an old clunker he repaired himself."
"Probably. Most high school kids can't afford to take their cars to mechanics to get them fixed."
Norman glanced into the box and frowned. "That's funny. Here's a starter for a Chevrolet and a fuel injection harness for a Ford."
"You must know a lot about cars if you can tell who made the parts just by looking." Hannah was impressed.
"You bet. It also helps that the manufacturer's name is stamped on the bottom."
Hannah laughed, but she quickly sobered when she remembered what Norman had said. "Do you know if you can put a Chevrolet starter and a Ford fuel injection harness in the same car?"
"Not really, but my guess is no. Most car companies don't want their parts to be interchangeable. Do you know what kind of car Jamie drove?"
"No, but I can find out. Will you take some pictures of the car parts, Norman? They might be important. I have to make a phone call."
In less than five minutes, Hannah was back, looking more puzzled than she had when she left. She'd talked to Luanne Hanks and what she'd found out was disturbing. "Did you take the pictures?"
"I took a whole roll. And I found another briefcase while I was at it. It was in the corner by the wastebasket. What did you find out about the car?"
"That's the strange part. Jamie didn't have a car. He borrowed Nettie's whenever he needed one. The rest of the time, he rode his Harley."
Norman glanced down at the box again. "But these are car parts. I'm sure of it."
"And I'm sure that car parts don't fit motorcycles." Hannah sighed and sat down on the edge of Jamie's bed. She tucked her feet back and her heels encountered something hard. "There's something under this bed."
In no time at all both Hannah and Norman were stretched out on the floor, peering under Jamie's bed. She manned the flashlight while he held up the bedspread.
"It's another box," Norman said, grabbing the edge and tugging it toward them. "It's heavy enough to be more car parts. But why would Jamie have car parts if he didn't have a car?"
"That," Hannah said, reaching out to help Norman with the box, "is the million dollar question."
It took some muscle, but between the two of them, Hannah and Norman managed to retrieve the four boxes of car parts that were stored under Jamie's bed and take pictures of them. Hannah also recovered a brown briefcase that had been under the bed. Once they'd pushed boxes back where they'd found them, Hannah collected the briefcases and, they left, locking the door securely behind them.
"Where to now?" Norman asked, opening the passenger door of his car for Hannah.
"Barbara Donnelly's house. She's expecting us. I called her before we left Nettie's."
"And she's going to tell us which one is the James Bond briefcase and open the secret compartment?"
"That's right." Hannah was glad Norman had listened when she'd explained everything last night. She was so tired, she didn't think she could string enough words together now.
"It's at least ten minutes to Barbara's." Norman looked over at her with a worried expression. "Why don't you lean back and take a quick nap. You look really tired."
"I am," Hannah admitted, closing her eyes. And then, lulled by the motion of Norman's car, her mind floated free and she hovered in that timeless place between consciousness and slumber.
"Hannah? We're here."
Hannah opened her eyes to find Norman's car parked in the driveway at Barbara's house. "How did you get here so fast?" she asked. "I just shut my eyes a second ago."
"It was twenty minutes ago. I took the long way around to let you sleep."
"Oh," Hannah felt a little foolish for conking out in Norman's car. "Well… thanks."