Clark Street started near the base of Skinner’s Butte and ran in segments parallel to West 1st Avenue. She thought the 324 address had to be near Lawrence or Lincoln. Counting squares on the map, she figured the Explorer’s owner lived nine blocks from the jail, about half a mile. A healthy person could walk the distance in ten minutes or run it in five. She pulled out into the street and headed downtown, reminding herself to keep an open mind. On the way, she called dispatch and asked for Joel Greer’s phone number.The sun was nearly at the horizon when Evans entered the old neighborhood nestled between the railroad tracks and the river. Without access to the water, the properties had lost value over the years, and many had been beaten down by renters. Evans turned right on 1st Avenue, and the scent of cooked oats drifted in her open window. She drove past a factory and turned left on Washington, then right on Clark.She parked in front of the small yellow house and took a moment to prepare herself.
