Robert had seen the power of the current flowing through those locks. If there was anything in them, it was swept down the river or somewhere just below the locks. He knew the car wasn’t there, but he wondered if they should have a search team below the locks, just in case.
No matter what was going on, Anne Sullivan ran her story the next day in the Oregonian. While she never made anything up, she gave her news the spin that someone ordered. If he didn’t know better, it seemed as if the chief had called Anne and gave her the story and she printed it as her words.
There were pictures of the divers, Stan, and Robert on the deck where the divers lay while the medics worked on them. Did he look like some backwoods hunter? He might think again before he put on a hunting and a Pendleton jacket when he went on-site.
Robert asked Arnie for divers to search The Dalles area. “It’s too early in the season and too dangerous. Look at what happened to Gabe,” came the response. Robert ground his teeth in disgust and went to find his own divers.
Nate tapped his way down the hall and stopped at Robert’s door. “Another oil company envelope.” He handed the item across the desk. Robert nodded and set it on top of his inbox and continued to write.
“Are you going to open it?”
“It’s from the oil company, you said.”
“Yes, but you already got the receipts from the oil company. What’s in here?” Nate’s nasal tone seemed to demand an answer.
“I don’t know. I’m not Superman with X-ray vision.”
“Why don’t you open it?”
“I will.”
“When?” Nate moved to pick up the envelope and look at it again. He turned it over, and Robert thought he might open it
Robert reached out in a flash and took the envelope and opening his desk drawer at the same time, dropped it in and shut the drawer.
“You got something to hide?” Nate demanded.
“Who sent you to be so nosy?
Nate remained, his eyes drilled into Robert’s, who didn’t flinch for a moment, then turned and marched out the door. This time there was no ignoring the angry sound of taps clicking their way back down the aisle.
“Whew. What was that all about?” Jake stood in the doorway, his eyes on Nate’s retreating back.
Robert pulled the envelope out of the drawer. “He wanted to know what was in this.” He held it up for Jake to see the return address.
“Didn’t we get the receipts from them?”
“I thought so.” He tore the edge of the paper with his opener. Inside were a couple of receipts. Robert looked at the statement and frowned.
“There isn’t one here for the seventh.”
Jake came around the desk and looked over Robert’s shoulder as he spread the three pieces of paper next to the statement. “Hmmm. This doesn’t look like the same statement or receipts we got before.”
Robert unlocked the drawer in his cabinet and withdrew a file. He laid the receipts from the oil company next to the new ones. Two were the same, one was different.
“This one is different paper.” He held the paper to the light and ran his finger lightly over part of the numbers. “Doesn’t this feel and look like a grease pen?”
Jake held the paper to the light, performing the same action. “You’re right, it does.” He laid the paper down and looked at all the slips.
“Look at the signatures. The one I got today is signed K. L. Stevens. The ones we already had are all signed Karl Stevens. The signature is close. We all sign a little differently.”
Robert pulled out a giant, magnifying glass. He peered at all the slips. “These are different. Which are the real ones?”
“I say we need to look at his signature,” Jake answered
Robert brought out the accordion file he’d taken from the Stevens’ house. He opened it and removed past credit card receipts. “These are all signed Karl Stevens. I’m guessing that’s his normal signature.”
Jake sat down and rubbed his forehead. “This is getting even crazier. Someone went to a lot of trouble to doctor this fake one but didn’t check to see how he signed his name.”
Robert put the new one inside the accordion folder and locked it back in his cabinet. “This lock won’t hold up to anyone who wanted to open the cabinet. Should I take the stuff home?”
Jake shrugged. “I would.”
“What about the Porters?” Jake queried.
Robert shook his head. “I was thinking the same thing. Are they in on this? It doesn’t seem like something they’d do.”
“On the other hand, you said Mr. Porter seemed well off. What’s the common connection? The boys or their parents?”
“I’ll look into it.”
Chapter 12
Robert cleared Brice Long of any suspicion. He checked out to be what he said he was and had no connection to the family, the boys, or even the parents. Jake agreed and gave Brice the benefit of the doubt. All in good time, as Brice called to tell Robert he’d lined up divers with boats and captains. The men had volunteered their services to locate the car, if it was, in fact, in the river.
Robert and Jake drove to a marina at The Dalles to meet with Brice and his divers. The sun rays felt hot on their skin between the cover of puffy, white clouds. It promised to be a beautiful May day, despite the chilly wind that inhabited the Gorge. One could never accurately predict the weather in this area.
Three charter fishing boats tugged against their lines and nudged the dock. Brice introduced the men to Robert and Jake.
“I want to thank you all for volunteering your time and your equipment. I wish I could pay you in some way. When we find the family and bring the perp to justice, you’ll know you had a major part in it.” Robert spoke to the group. He stepped across the dock and warily eyed the bobbing boat. Catching Robert’s expression, the captain of the lead boat chuckled, “Do you get seasick?”
“No, at least not so far.” Robert looked across the river to the Washington side. A large machine with a crane sat farther downstream Its large bucket was pulling silt out of the water and emptying it into a waiting barge.
Once they all climbed aboard, the captains started their engines. They pulled out of the swifter current and drifted down to the area indicated on the map to search. It wasn’t long until the skipper called out that they were almost there.
“Do you know anything about a depth finder?” Cappy, the captain of the boat asked Robert.
“Not really, they’re pretty new. I know we can see the shape of the bottom of the river as we pass over it. How do you tell what these other shapes are?”
“We are looking for something that has a different shape than what you are seeing. These are boulders that would fill your living room,” he pointed to some of the shapes.
Robert watched the depth finder until Cappy called his attention. “Robert, we’ve got company.”
Through the window, Robert saw the dredging barge almost directly across from where they were to dive. The dredge had stirred the fast water to a murky, brown color making it impossible for the divers to see once they were underwater.
“Is it possible to talk to the captain of the rig over there?” Robert asked.
“Sure, is that what you want?” At Robert’s nod, he spoke into the mike.
“This is the Work Horse.” Cappy went on to hail the other captain. When he answered, Robert, took the mike.
“This is Detective Robert Collins of the Portland Police Bureau. We’re searching this area in relation to a missing family. I want to know when you were scheduled to start this operation. Over.”
The voice came very clearly across the speaker, “This is Captain Dan. This job has been scheduled for a month. Over”