Chapter 47 Dom
DOM
The evidence we had was enough to get a conviction. Allan Spears got nailed for assault with a deadly weapon for shooting at Autumn that day on the trail. He was also sentenced for kidnapping her at the lodge. But that wasn’t even close to what we needed.
The sheriff found the duffel where Autumn had hidden it, wedged in a tree along the riverbank not far from where we’d jumped.
How she’d managed that before all hell broke loose, I had no idea.
Brainy Otter. Because of that, prosecutors had what they needed.
The ballistics matched the bullet in her pack to Spears’ gun.
Another piece of evidence that pinned Spears was the blood and fingerprints on the weapon.
Autumn testified that Lulu bit him on the trail, and we argued that’s where the blood came from.
But the defense spun it differently. They claimed it was a nosebleed brought on by stress.
That he panicked, and it was not premeditated.
Spears and his legal team leaned hard into the “emotional panic” defense. His clean record didn’t hurt either. He played the depressed husband card—marriage on the rocks, kids slipping away—and said he buried the gun because he was afraid he might turn it on himself.
With no concrete evidence linking him to Deborah Sinclair or even to Lulu, the prosecution’s hands were tied. What they had was just the kind of knowing that wouldn’t hold up in court.
Spears was sentenced for what he’d done to Autumn. But she and I agreed that wasn’t justice.
After the dust settled, Autumn and I drove out to see Sheriff Colton. He met us at the steps, nodding once at Autumn but keeping his eyes pinned on me.
He knew exactly what my silence meant.
He said, “Dom, Autumn. We all know. But to get more, we need to have more.”
“Was there really nothing else from the duffel?” I pressed. “We should retest. And I’m not talking about another Missoula sweep. I mean better equipment, better eyes.”
Colton’s mouth tightened.
“They already ran the full panel. Grass clippings, soil, textile fibers. Nothing hit.”
“They didn’t dig deep enough,” I said. “You know as well as I do—small samples, poor handling, wrong tech. You don’t get a second bite at it. Well, I mean you do if we act now, but you won’t get a third bite.”
Colton shifted, rubbing his back like the herniated disc was staging a comeback. No doubt he remembered the fallout from last time, me pushing Boone to rattle Missoula PD hard enough to wake the dead.
“I already leaned on them once. Almost cost Boone his badge.”
I stepped closer and spoke low enough that he couldn’t miss the point.
“This isn’t about Boone or jurisdiction.
It’s about a girl who never made it home.
” I let that hang before adding, “You want a real shot at giving Deborah’s parents answers?
Then give Susan Nolan the samples. She’s got tech that Missoula only dreams about.
Soil DNA extraction. Spectral library indexing. Better than Quantico.”
He scoffed. “You’re saying L.A.’s got the edge?”
“No,” I said. “I’m saying Susan Nolan is the edge.”
Autumn touched his sleeve. “Please, Sheriff.”
He looked between us, then nodded. “I’ll talk to the County Attorney and see about releasing the samples.”