Free Rules of Crime by L. J. Sellers Page A

A list of arrests and convictions surfaced. Possession of meth, theft 1, unauthorized use of a vehicle, DUII, public intoxication, and several probation violations. But nothing for the last three years except a trespassing report.
    Curious, Jackson read through it and learned Striker had been arrested at the home of a Molly Hansen. She’d called dispatch right before midnight to report seeing someone in her backyard. Patrol officers had found Striker hiding in a shed on her property. He’d claimed to be lost and drunk, pled guilty to trespassing, and paid a fine. Now Jackson wondered if there was more to it. Had Striker been stalking Molly Hansen?
    Locating an address from Striker’s last probation report, Jackson jotted it down, and shoved his notepad into his pocket. He started to get up, then had another paranoid thought. He opened Facebook and searched for the name Molly Hansen. He scrolled through about twenty until he found one in Eugene. When he opened her profile, he drew in a sharp breath.
    Molly Hansen looked very much like his ex-wife, Renee.

CHAPTER 11

    Monday, January 9, 1:35 p.m.
    A damp, musty smell seeped out of the plastic bag as Evans removed the faded jeans. Dirt , she thought, and a little moss . Probably from the graveyard where the clothes had been found. Evans ignored the trace evidence, leaving it for the technicians, and dug into the pockets. She wanted Lyla’s wallet or cell phone, or even a scrap of paper. She needed a solid lead.
    “Why would she take her clothes off outside in January?”
    Margaret, the campus police coordinator, scowled at the thought. “I’m sure it wasn’t her idea.”
    Evans found nothing in the jeans, which had probably fit so tight there wasn’t room for personal items. She pulled out the gray fleece jacket, shoved her gloved hand in a pocket, and it connected with a mobile phone. Tension flowed out of her shoulders. “I need to take all these to the lab.”
    Margaret nodded.
    Evans shoved the jeans and jacket back in the bag, along with a green T-shirt that said Go Ducks . She would put everything in separate evidence bags once she got to her car. If she’d picked up the clothes at the actual crime scene, she would have processed them correctly from the beginning.
    “What do you know about the person who turned in the clothes?”
    “Nothing. The note just says they were found in the graveyard.”
    “That’s a big area to cover.”
    “I know. I might be able to round up some volunteers to search.”
    “Thanks, but I think I’ll request a canine and save a lot of time.”
    “Good idea.” The campus officer looked relieved. “I’ll keep asking about the sorority and let you know if I hear anything.”
    “Thanks.”
    Evans headed out, wondering if Lammers would approve the expense of the canine. The victim wasn’t dead and the perp or perps were long gone. Finding the spot where Lyla had been attacked might prove to be completely useless. Or it could hold the key to solving this heinous assault. She had to try.
    A cold wind stung her eyes as she hurried to her car, which was parked illegally across the street near the recreation center. The old redbrick buildings, surrounded by grassy commons, made Evans wish she’d gone to school here instead of at a modern community college in Seattle. The University of Oregon campus exuded an air of timeless knowledge as well as a sense of belonging. Evans didn’t really have that with any place…or person. Eugene was growing on her after ten years, and her relationship with Ben kept getting better. But the only time she felt completelyat home was when she was with Jackson. And she had to get over that.
    In the car, she locked the doors out of habit, pulled her latex gloves back on, and activated Lyla’s phone. A low-battery message came up immediately. Damn. She wanted to scroll through the text messages. Evans grabbed her phone charger, plugged it into the cigarette lighter, and tried it in Lyla’s phone.