Lost Legacy (A Zoe Chambers Mystery Book 2) by Annette Dashofy

who’d just been sprung from captivity, Pete remained in a foul mood.
    Maneuvering the side streets of Brunswick, she risked a glance at her passenger and decided a few questions weren’t likely to irritate him any more than he already was.
    “How did your meeting with Warren Froats go?”
    He snorted and motioned toward his leg.
    Okay, maybe that wasn’t the right question. “Besides that. Was he able to tell you anything about my great uncles?” Or her dad. But one thing at a time.
    “Damn sloppy police work,” Pete muttered.
    “What?”
    “According to Froats, the gun used to shoot Denver Miller was never recovered.”
    “How can that be? If Vernon shot Denver and then hanged himself, why wasn’t the gun found with the body?”
    Pete grunted.
    “So maybe Vernon wasn’t the shooter,” Zoe said, thinking out loud.
    Pete shifted in the seat. “I probably shouldn’t tell you the rest of it either.”
    She shot a glance at him. “What?”
    “The so-called witness that claimed the gun belonged to Vernon...”
    Zoe guessed before he could say it. “James Engle.”
    “Yeah.”
    She braked the truck to a stop at a red light while her mind raced on. “Did you get a chance to ask Froats about my father’s car crash or that note?”
    “No, I—” A burst of tinny music interrupted him, and he dug his cell phone from his hip pocket.
    The light turned green. Zoe steered south onto Route 15 toward Vance Township. Even over the rumble of the Chevy’s engine, she could make out the frantic voice on the other end of Pete’s call.
    “Calm down, Sylvia,” he said. “Nate Williamson’s on duty today. His number’s in my Rolodex right there by the phone...Yeah.. Good. Call him and have him start a search. He couldn’t have gone far...I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
    “Your dad?” Zoe asked as Pete closed the phone.
    He gave a loud sigh. “Yeah. Harry’s missing.”
    Nine

      
    Pete rooted his good foot into the floorboards and clutched the armrest as Zoe accelerated out of one of the bends on Route 15. She may have been a skilled ambulance driver, but passing slow-moving vehicles on a two-lane road without benefit of lights and sirens set his teeth on edge. He had told her they needed to get back to Vance Township now , but he preferred to arrive with only the one broken bone. “If you get a speeding ticket, don’t expect me to fix it for you.”
    “You said to hurry.”
    “We’re not going to be any good to Harry if we’re dead.”
    Zoe snorted. “When did you become such a weenie?” But she did back off the gas.
    Pete’s cell phone rang again. Officer Nate Williamson’s number flashed on the screen. “Nate, what’ve you got?”
    “I’m at your house with Seth and Kevin. We’re gonna start knocking on all the neighbors’ doors. The fire department is calling in a crew to help with the search. Your father’s on foot, so he couldn’t have gone far.”
    Pete checked the clock on Zoe’s dashboard. “We’re still about ten minutes out. Call me if you find him.”
    “Will do, Chief.”
    Pete rammed the phone back in his pocket.
    “I can make it in five,” Zoe said.
    “Ten’ll do.”
    “He’ll be okay, you know,” she said. “They’ll find him.”
    “Yeah.” But in what condition? Nadine had been caring for their father for years, and the old man had been fine. Less than thirty-six hours and Pete had lost him twice .
    They covered the next mile or so in silence except for the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind through the open windows. Then Zoe blurted, “I need a favor.”
    Pete turned to look at her. She stared straight ahead, focused on the road. But he could tell from the set of her jaw and the narrowing of her eyes, she wasn’t asking him to fix a speeding citation. She was still obsessed with that damned letter.
    “I need to talk to Warren Froats,” she said.
    “Why?”
    “I never saw my dad’s body.”
    “That doesn’t mean—”
    “Neither did my