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were lawyers, accountants and insurance offices in the small complex. She could have parked in the Blue Fin lot, walked over there and done what? He turned his attention back to the Jeep.
    The ragtop was down. The windows were up. That meant it had been left while the sun still shined. Josie always closed up the car after dark, even if she garaged it. Whatever happened, it happened in the open and after three o’clock if he added in drive time to her departure from the shelter in San Pedro. Given that time frame, and the fact that it was a weekday, it would have been dead quiet around here.
    “Okay, Jo, here we go. By the book.”
    Archer opened the back of the Hummer. He was a cop again, a cop with a camera. The fact that he loved Josie might drive him, but it wouldn’t overrule his common sense. He was trying to decide between the digital or film camera when he heard:
    “Hey! Archer!”
    His head snapped up. He smiled a real and relieved smile sure that Josie would come sauntering toward him. His smile faded when he saw Liz Driscoll.
    “Ask and you shall receive, huh?” Liz came to a halt beside him, looked at the Jeep and gave him a little shoulder bump to underscore how cool she was.
    “Yeah.”  Archer opted for the digital camera even though he preferred to use film.
    “Don’t go overboard thanking me for sticking my neck out.” She grinned, obviously unconcerned about her neck or much of anything else. “Brought you a present, bucko.”
      Evidence bags. Sweet. Archer stuffed them in his pocket without saying a word and started to circle the Jeep.
    “You’re welcome,” she quipped and dogged his steps.
    Both of them looked for signs of foul play. If they found it, Liz would make this an official missing person’s case; if they didn’t, Josie was just another grownup who wasn’t where other people thought she was supposed to be.
    An early drinker pulled into the parking lot and wanted to know if the Jeep was for sale and if Archer would throw Liz into the deal.  A few chosen words from Liz – one of which was police – and the man drove on and parked at the far end of the lot. Archer looked after him, taking a minute to consider that beauty was definitely in the eye of the beholder. He gave up his musing when Liz dropped to her knees, flattened herself on her back, and checked under the chassis. She was up again a second later, brushing herself off.
    “Nada.”
    Archer was leaning over the driver’s seat when he said: “No keys. Parking brake on.”
    Click. Click. Click
    He walked around the car and opened the passenger door, careful to cover his hand with his shirt. He snapped a few more pictures of nothing. Not even a gum wrapper on the floor.
    Click. Click.
    Running shoes in the back. A couple bottles of water. A jacket. All of this was standard emergency fare for Josie. She kept those things in a box next to chains and a jumper cable.
    Click.
    Archer paused when he saw Josie’s baseball cap. The pain hit him in the gut. It took a second to put it in its place, and then he looked past the hat to the roll bar, the wheels, the tires.
    Click. Click. Click.
    He was shooting zilch: no dirt, leaves, new scratches or scrapes. He took five more pictures because he hoped he was just missing the one thing that would set him on the right road.  The paint gleamed. The Jeep was recently washed. That could be good news or bad. Good news because there would be fewer fingerprints to check, bad news because everything would have been cleaned out of the inside. He made a note to visit the carwash. Archer slid on to the passenger seat, covered his hand again with his shirt, opened the glove box, and sat still as a statue as he peered inside.
    “Archer?” Liz called. “Hey, Archer. What have you got?”
    He raised those dark eyes of his, his boxer’s face expressionless. He slid out of the car.
    “Nothing.”
    “Just as well. Means we can be pretty sure she was okay while she was in the car,” Liz