As Candace was easing the cruiser down with the jack, Dooley turned back around and said, “Hoffman’s van is gone, and no one answered the door at his place. He’s probably skipped. But the constable did get the plate number from the database. He’s put out the APB.”

“Van? What kind of van?” Candace said.

“White. He has a commercial license, but why, I don’t know,” Dooley said.

“White van. That fits,” Candace said as she held her hand out to Dooley. “Sorry if I’ve been a jerk. I’m just pissed that rat bastard got away from me.”

They shook hands.

Lawrence Johnson came back to the parking lot and brought us all very welcome bottles of cold water as well as copies of Patrick Hoffman’s personnel files. The constable, Hank Myers, showed up a few minutes later, wanting to get a more complete picture of the situation. South Carolina has a constable system made up of retired officers or volunteers with police experience.

Constable Myers said he’d be glad to lead us over to Hoffman’s neighborhood so Candace could poke around there, check with the neighbors about what kind of person he was. Candace took him up on the offer.

Unfortunately, Hoffman lived in a section of small homes that turned out to be rentals mostly occupied by students. At least the one student who hadn’t left town told Candace and Constable Myers as much. Candace decided she’d be wasting her time canvassing this neighborhood. Before we took off for Mercy, Myers said that if that guy was anywhere in his territory, he’d find him.

We drove home in silence for the first hour, but I kept checking my cat cam, fearing that Patrick Hoffman would show up at my house and make good on his threats to hurt my cats, or perhaps harm Kara. But the two cats who still liked to live above the basement were sound asleep. No Kara, and thank goodness no Hoffman to be seen.

“We’re missing something, aren’t we?” I finally said.

“Maybe, but we’ve found a huge piece of the puzzle: Patrick Hoffman. Now we have to figure out how he’s connected to VanKleet’s death.”

I nodded. “Since he was on campus all the time, he could have seen what the professor was doing.”

“Maybe he was upset about the cats and the ferrets, too,” she said, “but was he working alone? Lawrence Johnson said he didn’t know anything about Hoffman’s private life, or who his friends were aside from the other campus cops.”

“Could students have been helping him?” I asked.

“Perhaps. Though after interviewing Rosemary, I think Evan was right. This student group doesn’t seem all that organized. Rosemary just wanted to be heard about something-about anything. Militant activism-and I don’t see her as that kind-seems like a cause that you carry with you, and is pretty secretive, right?”

“True. But there is one person who might know more about Patrick Hoffman than we learned today,” I said.

Candace smiled and pressed down on the gas so hard, we almost lurched. “You’re absolutely right.”

We rolled back into Mercy around dinnertime. I’d made a call to the Tall Pines Motel, hoping to talk to Evan-the person who probably knew more about Patrick Hoffman than anyone else we could think of. Now that we knew Hoffman drove a white van, we were pretty certain he was the person I saw at the crime scene, which made me fear that Evan may not have told us the entire truth about his relationship with that campus cop. But Evan didn’t answer his motel- room phone, and I’d never thought to get his cell number.

Since we were both famished, we stopped at the Main Street Diner. Candace and I were craving those Texas chili dogs. Old- fashioned French fries in a white cone were on our minds, too. Neither of us had eaten anything but the stale protein bars in the cruiser’s glove box since this morning.

But before we even went inside the restaurant, I pointed down the street. “That’s Kara’s car,” I said. “Wonder what she’s been up to.”

Candace kept walking, reached the door and held it open for me. “Come on.”

We went inside and saw Kara sitting with Tom. He immediately waved for us to join them.

They were sitting across from each other in one of the larger booths, and both slid to the inside to make room for us. They had Cokes in front of them, so maybe they hadn’t ordered and we’d all be having dinner together.

I sat next to Tom, but Candace told me to order her a large tea and went off to the restroom. She took my purse with her, I assumed so she could use a comb and some makeup.

“What happened to her?” Kara said. “She looks like a train ran over her.”

“We got a lead on a suspect, and Candace got very busy doing things that police officers do,” I said.

“A suspect? Who?” Tom said.

I rested my foot next to his. “If Candace wants to discuss her case, that’s up to her. Right now, bring on those hot dogs smothered in chili and onions.”

Candace joined us a minute later, her hair neatly pulled back in the elastic band it had escaped from earlier. The waitress arrived and took our orders.

Kara said, “I found out a few things today that you might want to follow up on.”

I glanced at Tom and then at Kara. “You worked with Tom today, right?”

“You don’t think for one minute I truly needed a baby-sitter?” Kara said.

“I thought you’d be safer with him while we were gone; that’s all,” I said.

“Sorry,” Tom said. “She can take care of herself and told me so in no uncertain terms. But she did do a little work for me.”

“Filing,” Kara said. “Not exactly how I want to start my career as a crime writer. So I texted Brandt and we got together.”

“Again?” Candace said. “Are you falling for the guy or what?”

“He’s a jerk. But he knows things. Like how badly his mother wants to get her hands on that farm the professor left behind.”

Candace’s features softened. Kara was endearing herself to Candace lately-in spite of her opinion that Kara was as spoiled as my cats. Candace turned slightly in the booth so she could look at Kara. “And how badly does Sarah VanKleet want that farm?”

“She’s found a lawyer in town already, one who knows about wills, estates and trusts. Brandt, who thinks he’s the legal wonder kid, helped with that.” Kara sipped her Coke through the straw, eyebrows raised. Then she said, “But your Chief Baca hasn’t been very forthcoming about whether he knows of any will or life insurance policies found in the house. That has Mrs. VanKleet a little irritable.”

We’d been thinking on the way back to Mercy about Evan’s relationship with Patrick Hoffman, but what about Sarah? She worked on campus and probably knew Hoffman, too. Douglas Lieber probably knew him as well, for that matter. I didn’t want to say anything about Hoffman without Candace’s okay, though.

Candace said. “Well, Sarah VanKleet can stay irritated. She divorced the professor.”

“But sons don’t divorce their father,” Kara said.

I said, “Did Brandt tell you that’s how she hopes to get her hands on any assets? Through her sons?”

“He didn’t come right out and tell me that,” Kara said, “but that’s the feeling I got.”

“Feelings,” Candace said. “Those aren’t facts, and that’s all I’m interested in right now. Who’s the lawyer? Jim Stevens?”

Tom removed his straw from his Coke. “That’s the only estate guy in town. Has to be him.” He took a drink.

“Wait a minute. Tom said cops rely a lot on instinct. And instincts aren’t facts, either,” Kara said.

“You’re nitpicking now. And I’m not really in the mood to talk about stuff you know nothing about,” Candace said.

Kara said, “But I’ve just given you valuable information, and-”

Tom held up a hand. “Hold on. You had an obligation to do exactly that, Kara. You did the right thing. Now, can we relax a little? Maybe enjoy each other’s company?”