“Definitely longing for your company,” she said. “But I’m also part of the Nathan Fletcher kidnapping task force. What are you looking at?” “A muddy footprint on the floor mat of the driver’s seat. It’s a good print, and it doesn’t match the victim’s shoes. It seems like a twelve, maybe even thirteen.” Could they be Karl’s shoes? He had a pair of worn-out tennis shoes, but they weren’t particularly large. “If I send you a shoe sole photograph, would you be able to see if it matches?” He straightened. “Maybe. Talking about shoes, I suppose this is the one you’re really interested in.” He
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