“Yes.” He said it as if it were common knowledge.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was you?” Cassie asked, but Trent held up a hand, cutting her off.
“The message was about a Hyundai Santa Fe? Right? The SUV?” Trent asked.
A curt nod. “Most customers are satisfied, some complain about the fuel gauge and sun visors, but overall they like the vehicle.”
Cassie tried not to be irritated with his review. “So this car—”
“The 2007 Hyundai Santa Fe is an SUV.”
“Yes.” She fought back her frustration and said more calmly, “I know. Why did you text the information to me? Is it because the car, er, SUV, wasn’t usually in the lot?” She knew he observed what vehicles parked near the hospital.
“The nurse drove it.” Blond hair plastered to his head, he stared through the open window at her as if she were a complete idiot.
“The nurse? The one who came into my room?” Cassie questioned. “With the white shoes and dress. And that blue cape. The one who lost the earring?”
“She drove the 2007 Hyundai Santa Fe and parked it in the lot.” His gaze moved from Cassie’s face to Trent’s.
“I saw her leave in it.”
He knew this? And didn’t say anything? Cassie couldn’t believe it. The car, idling, was beginning to warm, the windows fogging a little.
Trent asked, “What color was it?”
“Arctic white. Beige interior. Automatic transmission.” Without expression, Rinko repeated the information as if reading the data from an ad in the classified section. “V-6. Mag wheels.”
“Did you notice anything else about it? The license plate?” Trent asked.
Rinko nodded. “Oregon plates. Man on a bucking bronco.”
“That image was part of the plate?” Trent asked.
Rinko didn’t reply, just stared with that same faraway look that sometimes came over him. As far as Cassie knew, there was no image of a bronco rider on plates issued by the state. There had been different plates over the years, some decorative, but none Cassie remembered with images of a rodeo rider. Then again, it was possible that Rinko could be wrong. It could all be a figment of his imagination.
“How about the number?” Trent asked. “On the plate?”
Steven, who was getting soaked, shrugged. He was shivering in the cold, his lips turning blue, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Maybe the SUV had some identifying marks on it. Like a broken headlight, or damaged window, or some dents?” Cassie suggested, leaning over Trent. When Rinko didn’t respond, she added, “Maybe a bumper sticker?”
“Kill Your Television.”
“That was on the Hyundai?” Trent asked.
Rinko’s eyebrows drew together in concentration. Rain dripped from the tip of his nose. “A map of Oregon with a green heart in the middle of it.”
Cassie had seen that one, a white background, the black outline of the state’s shape surrounding a forest-green heart. Trent glanced at Cassie. “That should narrow it down,” he said.
Cassie asked, “Has the nurse, the one with the car, been back?”
He shook his head. “She only came to see you.”
“You’re sure?”
He didn’t bother to answer. Of course. When Steven Rinko said anything, it was a fact. At least in his mind.
She and Trent asked a few more questions, but Rinko had no more information to share, and the poor kid was obviously freezing. She couldn’t keep him a second more. “Thanks,” she said. “Now, go inside, and get warm. Dry off and make an aide bring you cocoa.”