Christy Barritt - Trained To Defend

Because the driver had some answers—answers they needed.

But there was also more than one way to figure out who was behind that wheel.

With his eyes on the car, he pulled out his phone and called a friend, Jim Larsen, with the highway patrol.

“Colton, what can I do for you?”

“Hey, Jim. I need you to run some plates for me for a case I’m working,” Colton said. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all. What do you have?”

Colton rattled off the license plate.

“I’ll do it right now. One second.”

Colton waited, anxious to hear what Jim found out.

A moment later, his friend came back on the line. “Car belongs to a Randolph Stephens in Spokane.”

“Randolph Stephens?” Colton repeated, glancing at Sarah.

She shrugged, indicating the name wasn’t familiar.

“Anything else on this guy?” Colton asked.

“I don’t see any priors. Not even a parking ticket.”

“That’s great. Thank you, Jim.”

Colton ended the call. At least it was something. He’d take whatever information he could get right now.

Randolph Stephens?

Sarah turned the name over in her head as they continued down the highway.

Had Loretta ever said the name?

Sarah didn’t think so. She’d probably remember a name like Randolph. It was unique enough that she didn’t hear it often.

Colton handed her his phone. “Do me a favor. Do an internet search for me for this Randolph Stephens guy. Tell me if anything comes up or if he looks familiar.”

Sarah took the device from him and stared at the screen a moment. “I need your code.”

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