Chapter 12–Monday, 6:06PM

Three hours later, Herb was at his desk looking over reports from the search teams that continued to crisscross the city. They’d rounded up plenty of small potatoes, but not one slimy, half-rotten stalk of celery, let alone the four the picture showed.

“Chief?” The sudden interruption made Herb jump. Woodstalk stepped through the door.

“Bloody Mary!” Herb cursed. “You scared me.”

“Yeah. Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to.” The rookie spoke more hesitantly than usual.

“It’s alright, son. What do you want?”

“I have a list of businesses who own and use PhotoChop 7.8.”

“Great!” Herb’s face softened a bit. “Let me see it.”

Woodstalk dropped a yellow pad on the desk’s cluttered top. “I’m afraid it’s a bit longer than we thought it might be,” he offered. “Lots of printers and sign shops upgraded this time.”

Herb scanned the list. He knew most of the names he read. Good, upstanding citizens. The few he didn’t know were new in town. He’d run background checks on them, but he doubted he’d find anything. These were legitimate business men and women just trying to make a buck. Herb chuckled when he spotted the mayor’s office toward the end of the list. He toyed with the idea of harassing the old windbag with an official investigative visit. It’d serve his honor right for the way he’d treated Herb. But the chief thought better of it. No need sending officers to investigate when there was no real reason for suspicion.

Herb reached the end of the list and looked up. “Thanks, Wood.” He’d never called the rookie by anything but his given name. “You can go now. I’ll have background checks run on a few of these folks.”

As Woodstalk stepped toward the door, Herb noticed something. “What’s that red stuff on your roots?” the chief asked.

Woodstalk looked down. “Oh, that,” he replied. “I stubbed them on my way here. Must be bleeding. I’ll get it taken care of.” The rookie turned quickly and hurried from the room.

Herb watched him go, then reached for his phone. He punched in Linda’s extension. “Yes,” came a man’s voice.

“Who is this?” Herb demanded.

“It’s me, String, sir,” the bean answered. “Truman sent me out of the lab to work on the problem with the digital signature on that photo. That VBI guy has all the lab computers strung together working on the missing phone call, so I had to find a secure workstation. Linda’s was available. She left for the doctor’s at 4:00pm. What did you need?”

Herb wondered why Truman had put someone else to work on that photo when he’d asked him to keep it quiet, but Herb trusted String, so he let it go. “I’ve got a few background checks I need run,” he said. “I figured I’d put Linda to work on them.”

“Well, sir, I could do it for you,” String offered. “I’ve got this program running trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I can’t make it work faster, so I’m just sitting here. Can you give me the names?”

“I’ll run them down to you on my way out,” Herb informed him. “I plan to leave around 8:00.”

“Okay, sir. I’ll be here.”

The phone went dead. Herb leaned back in his chair. He smiled. He had some great veggies working for him.