Free One Wrong Step by Laura Griffin Page A

waiting for more.
    “I’m new on the paper,” she elaborated. “So I’m stuck covering weekends twice a month. It got pretty hectic yesterday.”
    “Low man on the totem pole, huh? How old are you, exactly?”
    She stiffened. “What does that matter?”
    “It doesn’t, really. I’m just curious.” He smiled, and the skin gathered at the corners of his gray eyes. He had nice eyes, but only when he smiled. The rest of the time they looked icy. “Hey, come on. You’re too young to get offended by that question.”
    She crossed her arms. “How old do you think I am?”
    His gaze dropped, and she couldn’t tell whether he was reading her T-shirt logo for clues or trying to guess her bra size.
    “Thirty-two B,” she told him.
    His lifted his gaze, and a flush crept up his neck. She’d embarrassed him. Good. Now she had the upper hand.
    “I’m twenty-four,” she said, taking pity on him for some reason. “How about you?”
    He cleared his throat. “Thirty-eight.”
    She took another sip of the ruined coffee and glanced at her watch, hoping he’d get the hint.
    “I spoke to Officer Poole. He says you told him you came upon the accident on the way back from a party.”
    “It was a campaign event. I was on assignment.”
    “And you just happened to drive past this wreck? You weren’t responding to the police scanner?”
    She recited the details of the incident and was relieved when he didn’t ask her the same questions over and over like Officer Skoal had.
    Rowe leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t interrupted her, just jotted down a few notes about the truck.
    “Did it strike you as odd that the Explorer’s passenger’s-side door was open?” he asked.
    She felt flattered he wanted her opinion, but then wondered if that was just a tactic he used to make people loosen up.
    “Yes,” she said. “Especially since the driver was unconscious when I got there.”
    He nodded. “Seems to me like someone else opened the door, maybe to get out? Or maybe to retrieve something? Think back to those two guys. Can you remember anyone holding something or tossing something in the truck bed right before the door slammed?”
    Kate closed her eyes, trying to replay the scene. “I don’t remember that. But I really only got a brief look.” She opened her eyes, and he was watching her closely. “Sorry.”
    Rowe drummed his fingers on the table and looked off into the distance. Obviously this mystery truck was important to him, and Kate wished she’d noticed more about it.
    “So, you think there was foul play involved?”
    His gaze veered back to her, and she waited for him to say something evasive.
    “Looks that way,” he said. “As of this morning, it’s a homicide investigation.”
    Wow, candor. Kate decided to push her luck. “What do you have besides the mystery car and the open door?”
    He hesitated a beat, watching her. “A number of things. Like skid marks up the road indicating the Explorer was involved in a high-speed chase just before it crashed into the cliff. After that, it’s possible someone opened the door and took something from the vehicle.”
    “Someone like one of those guys I saw?”
    He nodded.
    She leaned forward on her elbows. “What did they take?”
    He smiled slightly, and she knew she wasn’t going to get anything else, at least not right now. She’d have to hit him up later. Maybe she could catch him off guard somehow.
    “I appreciate your time today, Miss Kepler.” He pulled out a business card and scribbled a number on the back before handing it to her. She noticed the San Antonio area code. “Here’s my cell number. I’m staying at La Quinta downtown, but I’m never there, so that number’s the best way to reach me. Call me if you think of anything else.”
    “You’re from San Antonio?”
    “I’m part of a joint task force operating out of there, yes.”
    “Investigating…?” McAllister had filled Kate in on Robert Strickland’s fugitive status and his