The Blackbird Papers by Ian Smith Page A

answer about that camera back there?”
    Lieutenant Wiley shot a hard look at the buzz cut. “I'll have to check into that,” the officer mumbled. He waddled to his patrol car and picked up the radio.
    Sterling stood and slowly traced the car from the trunk to the hood. He took his time, knowing that most mistakes were made in the beginning of an investigation. He learned early in his career that being overly eager often resulted in missing the small details. Patience, at the right time in an investigation, could be an important ally.
    “Can I get a pair of gloves?” Sterling asked.
    Wiley motioned to one of the officers, who ran to his cruiser and returned with a pair.
    They were a little tight, but Sterling eventually got them on. He walked to the front of the car and placed the back of his hands on the hood. He alternated them in methodical fashion until he had covered every inch.
    “A cold engine and no forced entry.” Sterling announced. Now he was squatting next to the door handle.
    “But why would the Professor leave the keys in the ignition?” Stangle wondered aloud.
    “Who said he did?” Sterling shot back. “There could be a million reasons why those keys are locked in this car, and him leaving them there is the least likely. Wilson loved this car.” Sterling peered through the passenger-side window. “There's something on the floor,” he said. “It's stuck between the seat and the door.” He flashed the light through the window. The others gathered around. “I can't make out much of it from here, but it looks like the antenna of a cell phone.”
    Sterling looked at his watch and tightened his lips. It was a few minutes before noon. Wilson had been missing for almost seventeen hours and there hadn't been any calls from either him or anyone who might have seen something. Not good. “All done here,” Sterling announced, handing the flashlight to Wiley. “Captain Stangle, how can I get to my brother's house without going down River Road?”
    “There's a way higher up in the mountains that comes around the back of his property.”
    Sterling turned and faced Wiley. “Does President Mortimer know about my brother's disappearance?”
    “He was informed at six this morning,” Wiley answered. “It won't be easy, but we're trying to keep a lid on it for at least twenty-four hours. It'll give us time to get some answers before getting the campus all worked up.”
    “Makes sense,” Sterling agreed. He started walking to his car, then turned back. “One more question, Lieutenant. If the security officer first spotted the car at three this morning and he makes a lap back here every three hours, then why didn't you guys hear about it till now?”
    Wiley was prepared. “It wasn't until his third patrol at nine that the officer noticed the car didn't have a sticker. All cars that park in this lot must have a faculty sticker or they get ticketed. When the officer put the ticket on the window, he noticed the keys were still in the ignition, so he called the security office to have it towed. At approximately ten thirty, when the tow truck arrived, our dispatcher picked up the tow order over the radio. She knew that we were looking for Professor Bledsoe's car and the call fit the description. Our men were here within minutes.”
    Sterling looked around the parking lot, then something caught his eye. He walked back to the front of the Mercedes and knelt down. He was tracing something in the sand with his fingers. “Tire tracks,” he said. “Wide enough for a truck. You might want to see if these match any over on River Road, Lieutenant. No way in hell Wilson voluntarily parked his car in the back of an empty lot with the keys still in the ignition.”
    Sterling walked to the Mustang with Stangle and Wiley following.
    “Ready to go?” Captain Stangle asked.
    “Yeah, but before I go to the house, I'd like to stop by Wilson's lab. I want to see inside his office.” Sterling opened the door to his car and