It was Saturday evening. The sun had just set, creating a twilight that made it hard to decide whether to turn on headlights. Mark Evans didn’t have to decide. He was pulling into his garage on a quiet street in Sharpsburg.
A moment later, a slender, dark-haired man emerged from a side door, carrying a duffel bag, briefcase, and laptop. Years of experience allowed him to handle the items with ease. He entered his house without calling out to his wife, Lisa, knowing she wasn’t home.
He went to the living room, placing his briefcase and laptop on the couch and his garment bag at the stairs. He hung his coat in the closet by the front door, then removed his jacket and tie, undoing the top buttons of his shirt.
He had just returned from a regional meeting of managers at ABC Industries, though he wasn’t technically a manager, but the top systems analyst. His supervisor, good at organizing staff but clueless about computer systems, required him at the meeting in Pittsburgh.
He had told his wife he’d be back Monday, claiming the meeting was followed by weekend seminars. He had his reasons for this and didn’t want to return too early. Regretting not bringing comfortable clothes to the trip, he knew Lisa would have questioned why.
Now home, he showered and changed into jeans and a polo shirt. After a quick meal of leftovers and a bottle of beer, he read the local newspaper in the living room, appearing as a husband relaxing after a trip. In reality, he was biding time, dealing with a personal crisis.
He’d worked through denial but still faced anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Past midnight, he cleaned up the kitchen, realizing it was procrastination. Unable to find another solution, he put on a light jacket and headed to the side door.
Remembering something, he returned to the living room, sent an email from his laptop, then left the house. After five minutes in the garage, he drove away, the garage door closing behind him.
At 7:37 a.m., a Sharpsburg emergency operator answered a call.
“Emergency, what’s your emergency?”
A young-sounding female voice responded, “I need the police. I think a crime has been committed.”
“Where are you located, ma’am?” the operator asked.
“I’m at a pay phone on Park Drive near George Washington Park,” she replied.
The operator, understanding the poor connection, asked, “What crime has been committed, ma’am? Were you attacked or robbed?”
The young woman hesitated before answering, “No, it wasn’t me. I’m fine. I was running through the park on the access road to the picnic areas and saw a car parked there. The doors were open, lights on, and there was a lot of blood.”
The emergency operator, now very interested, asked, “Will an ambulance be needed? Are there any injuries?”
“No. No one was there. Just an empty car and blood.”
A few seconds later, she added, “I didn’t look around much. I was scared someone might come after me, so I ran to this pay phone to call you.”
“You did the right thing. A car is on the way and should be there in less than ten minutes. Please wait for the officers so you can show them the exact location.”
Alarmed, the caller replied, “No, I’m not waiting. What if they come after me? I’m going home.”
She then hung up.
The emergency operator stared at the screen as the call ended.
“Damn it. I hope I didn’t divert officers from something more important.”
Around 2:00 in the afternoon, Detective Peter Nesbit arrived at the Evans house. A blonde woman pulled into the driveway as he got out of his car. He quickly approached her.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Mrs. Evans.”
She turned, pulling a suitcase from the car, and replied, “I’m Lisa Evans. Do I know you?”
“No, ma’am. I’m Detective Peter Nesbit from the Sharpsburg Police. We’re trying to locate your husband, Mark Evans. His car was found abandoned in George Washington Park this morning.”
He showed his badge and ID.
Lisa looked concerned but then said, “Mark is in Pittsburgh. He always leaves his car at the airport. You must be mistaken.”
Detective Nesbit insisted, “We’re sure it’s his car. Both the license plate and VIN match his registration.”
Confused, she walked toward the side door.
“If it’s his car, it must have been stolen from the airport. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
Nesbit persisted, “When did you last speak to your husband? Could you call him now to make sure he’s in Pittsburgh? Does he have a cell phone you can call?”
Lisa stopped, put down her bag, and rummaged through her purse for her phone.
“He called me yesterday morning from Pittsburgh. I’ll call him now.”
She dialed his number, but a phone rang in the detective’s pocket. He answered.
“Hello, Mrs. Evans.”
Surprised, she asked, “How did you get Mark’s cell phone?”
Nesbit replied, “I can’t give it to you. It’s evidence in a possible major crime. It was found in your husband’s car.”
Lisa, now more concerned, asked, “Major crime? What do you mean?”
“Your husband’s car was found with the doors open and a bullet hole. We need to find him to rule him out as a sufferer or suspect. Could you call his hotel in Pittsburgh?”
Lisa picked up her briefcase and said, “Sure. The hotel number is in my address book. He always stays at the same Holiday Inn. Come inside, and we’ll sort this out.”
Inside the kitchen, she quickly found the number and called the hotel. But after hanging up, she turned to the detective.
“Mark’s briefcase and laptop are in the living room. I don’t understand.”
The detective, looking thoughtful, called his colleague.
“Hi, Dave, it’s Pete. I need a search warrant for the Evans house. We need to determine if Mr. Evans is a sufferer or a suspect. Bring it here ASAP. I’ll be waiting.”
He hung up and sat down across from Lisa.
“A search warrant? You can search all you want. Just ask. I want you to find my husband.”
Detective Nesbit replied, “I need to follow protocol. If your husband is involved in anything illegal, any evidence found without a warrant can’t be used in court.”