Chapter 48
Chapter
Forty-Eight
By eleven, Nash had a full page of notes.
Faye was sixty-one years old. She’d never been married. She’d worked as a farmer and had owned a farm stand for twenty years. That was the only employment Nash could find. There were no news articles about her or police records.
Nash sighed and closed his computer. As he did, Tank got up from the floor, walked a circle, and lay back down against Nash’s feet.
He rubbed the top of his dog’s head. “I know. It’s one of those days, huh?”
He’d hoped to make more progress. To find some answers. To find . . . something.
At 11:50, Luke called.
“You sitting down?” Luke started.
Nash’s muscles tensed. That was never a good way to start a conversation. “I’m sitting.”
“I just found out that Everett Voss owns land in this county. Seventeen acres off Pilcher Road. He’s had it for four years.”
Everett Voss . . . the FBI’s number one suspect ten years ago in Christian’s disappearance. The man who’d dropped off the grid and never been heard from since. Had he been right under their nose the whole time?
Nash put his pen down. “Where’s Pilcher Road?”
“It runs behind the Loveless place.” Luke let those words sit. “The road leading to the property is on the other side of the county line. But the back line of that parcel is about a mile from their yard. Straight through the woods.”
Nash’s jaw tightened. “How does this happen in a county this size without anyone flagging it?”
“Because his name isn’t on the deed.”
“Then whose is it?”
“Everett Tolliver. His mother was a Tolliver, and her name went on his birth certificate alongside Voss.” Papers moved on Luke’s end. “He filed the deed under Tolliver only. Paid cash. Never once put Voss on a piece of county paper.”
Nash stared out the window as he processed that news. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“It is.”
“You been out there yet?” Nash asked.
“I’m on my way now. You want to come with me?”
Nash hoped Luke would ask. “You couldn’t keep me away.”