“You’re sure those are her sunglasses?” “What are the odds that Nissen also wears emerald-green Maui Jims?” The warden investigator studied the crushed patterns left in the grass by the truck. “It looks to me like she might have dropped them without realizing. I’d say they broke when she ran over them on her way out.” “What if she left them for us as a sign?” “A sign of what?” “That she was taken against her will.” “I know you’re upset,” he said, “but it’s a lot more likely that she was just careless. You said she tends to be forgetful. If Nissen forced her to go someplace, then why is his van gone, too?” I didn’t have a ready answer for him. I glanced up at the cabin, which I could see better now that the sun was coming up. It appeared to be a new building; the logs were still orange and the green roof shingles hadn’t yet begun to warp or curl. I rose to my feet and handed Pinkham the shattered glasses. “Where are you going?” he asked. “I’m going to have a look inside.”
