Solitude Creek
“And on Sunday.’ O’Neil looked up at Gabriel Rivera. The junior deputy, in uniform as always, stood in the doorway of O’Neil’s small workspace in the Sheriff’s Office building in Salinas. He discouraged the ‘sir’ but the young man was unshakeable in his respect. ‘Looks like you are too.’ ‘Well, we get triple time, right?’ O’Neil smiled. ‘What’s up?’ ‘They got an ID on the body in Santa Cruz. You were right. Homeless guy living off and on in a shelter. Blood work-up, he was way drunk.’ The big ma...n shook his head. ‘As for Grant? Nothing, sir. Just no sign at all. Any other ideas? I’m at a loss.’ With the Solitude Creek unsub on the loose, O’Neil had had to delegate much of the Otto Grant disappearance to others. There’d been no sightings of the farmer who’d lost his property.
‘You’ve expanded to surrounding counties?’ ‘All through the Central Valley. Zip.’ ‘And nothing online since his last post?’ ‘Nothing after five days ago.’ That was when the farmer had written another diatribe against the state.MoreLess
‘You’ve expanded to surrounding counties?’ ‘All through the Central Valley. Zip.’ ‘And nothing online since his last post?’ ‘Nothing after five days ago.’ That was when the farmer had written another diatribe against the state.MoreLess
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