"He's up to something," Zandra says in the car with Charlie. She raises a finger to cut off the police officer's response.
"Up to what exactly?" Charlie says and merges the car onto I-39.
"He lied to me about not knowing anything about pink shoes. Don't ask how I know, I just know," Zandra says. "And his name wasn't Elliot, it was Seth. The van he's driving isn't registered to him."
Charlie gives a patronizing hmmm.
"You do know that's not a crime, right? He could've borrowed the van," Charlie says.
Zandra shakes her head. "He claims he was deer hunting. How many people do you know would borrow a van, of all things, to haul a carcass around? Why not a truck? He claims he was butchering a deer when I stopped in. I saw him with a knife and blood on his arms. But then he told me not to go to the area he was doing the butchering. I never saw a deer," she says.
Charlie repeats the hmmm.
"Are you hearing me or just being a jackass?" Zandra says.
"You deer hunt much?" Charlie says. She shoots Zandra a raised eyebrow.
"No."
"Then you probably don't know about this thing called a cooler. After you register a deer, you can butcher it and stick it in a cooler so it's easier to bring home. You're grasping at straws here. Perception is reality. You see what you want to see. That famous intuition of yours is sounding more like old-fashioned desperation," Charlie says.
Zandra slams her hand against the dash. "You watch your fucking mouth. You came to me for help, remember? And now I'm telling you, there's something very wrong going on at that cabin," she says.
"And you watch the fucking dash. This car is still government property. Picked it up at an asset forfeiture, along with that big weapons cache that was in the newspaper," Charlie says. She exhales and runs a hand over her face. "Fine, you want to keep chasing this shaky theory of yours, stalk people buying peanut butter at Target, be my guest. My job in this cluster is to drive you around and make sure you don't get anyone killed. What do you suggest we do next?"
Zandra takes a breath and reminds herself that Charlie's hostility is worth it, so long as they find Elle Carey. And then Zandra can start taking care of her own overdue business.
"We need to pay the real owner of that van, Elliot Dunstan, a visit, for one. Two, it wouldn't hurt to figure out who owns the hunting land Seth claims he's leasing," Zandra says.
Charlie growls out another hmmm, but it's less condescending this time. She checks the time.
"We might have enough daylight to cover one of those today," Charlie says.
"Let's start with Elliot Dunstan," Zandra says.