Tanner said. “I think I do.” “I thought so when we talked last night.” Tanner turned his eyes to their boss, Hank Moore. Moore’s left hand was bouncing absently above the table, as if his transistor radio were playing. Tanner always lost a little of his self-assurance around Moore. “I didn’t know it then,” Hunter said. “I have evidence now.” She showed them the printout of Elena Rodgers, Champlain’s personal assistant, walking through the lobby of the Old Shore Inn Monday morning. Then she opened her left hand to display the diamond pendant. They all stared, expectantly. Tanner’s mouth was open like a coin slot. “Pastor Luke’s wife discovered it in the surf this morning,” she said. “Twenty-five yards from where Susan Champlain died. “I didn’t realize for sure until a half hour ago what the necklace was,”
