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satisfied?”
    “Yes. They’re so lightly staffed these days that there’s no one with the extra time to really birddog us for more info.”
    “How about the paper?”
    “Since they laid off their crime reporter in the fall, they just run what we give them.”
    “It makes our life a bit easier, but long term it’s not a good thing. It lets our local politicos muck about without any accountability. And speaking of accountability, we need to start with Richard Kinver.”
    “Do you want me to get him in here?”
    “No, I want to go out to his place. Talk to him and get a list and talk to anyone who had access to the truck. And I’d like to do that this afternoon. I’ll call him as soon as we finish.”
    Ray stood and walked toward the board. “When you worked the scene, what did you get?”
    “No smoking gun, but I think I can tell you what probably happened. The assailant kicked in the door. She had locks and deadbolts, and unlike you, she used them. But everything around the door was shattered. It was a clear case of improperly installed locks. All they were doing was catching the trim board. A small woman could have kicked them in. Not that it mattered much. If the assailant had too much trouble with the door, he would have smashed through a window.”
    “So, do you have a scenario?…”
    “I think this all happened really fast. I think the assailant arrived, kicked in the door, and attacked her. I think he probably left her for dead. It went down in just a minute or two.”
    “So this is what the assailant knew,” he said, starting to add categories and notes: location, victim lived alone . Ray paused for a minute, poured some more coffee into his mug, and took several long sips, setting the mug back on the table. “Put yourself in the assailant’s head. Three in the morning. The woman lives in an isolated spot. No landline, no cable. Her cell is her only contact to the outside. Obviously, this wasn’t random. The person knew she was there and alone. It wasn’t a stealth attack, they’d have come on skis or snowshoes if they had wanted that.”
    “And the attacker might not have anticipated that she was awake,” said Sue, “or that she was texting when he arrived.”
    “How could she send the last message that fast?” Ray asked.
    “You don’t text.”
    “I’ve tried. My fingers are too big. All I do is back up and try to fix mistakes.”
    “Watch a tenth grader. She was probably real fast and connected at the time someone was smashing their way in.”
    “You didn’t find the cell phone?”
    “No, but I’ll order the records once I establish the carrier.”
    “The assailant didn’t leave the scene right away. What was he doing, was he looking for something?”
    “You saw the interior. It didn’t seem torn apart except for a scuffle.”
    “How about a computer?” asked Ray.
    “There was a tower and a big display and a large format printer. There was also a lot of high-end digital camera equipment. She probably used those in her artwork.”
    Ray’s cell sounded. He switched it on and Sarah James’ face appeared on the screen.
    “You need to take a call?” Sue asked, glancing over at the phone.
    “I’ll get back to them,” Ray said. “Maybe the assailant was going through computer files.”
    “Why would you spend the time; just take it with you or figure out a way to destroy it.” Sue paused briefly. “Maybe the TV-CSI guys have convinced the public that everything is recoverable. And he probably didn’t think there was any reason to hurry.”
    “True. Was there a laptop?”
    “No. I didn’t see one.”
    “How about a charger for a laptop?”
    “Ray, the whole computer issue was something that I was going to come back to. We’ve never had a crime scene destroyed before. I did photograph everything in detail. Maybe we can find a charger or cord.”
    Ray’s cell phone beeped.
    “You’ve got voicemail,” said Sue.
    “So when you’re texting, you get a beep like that