Leave No Trace

by Sara Driscoll

  McCord dropped the pen as if it suddenly burned his fingers. The peach had thrown him under the bus.

  Torres was still talking. “The high kill harvest records actually had a few other names on it. Two of them are women. The first is Marlene Sanford. She and her husband are farmers west of Blue Ridge Lake. We found Mrs. Sanford on the family farm this morning. When questioned about her whereabouts, she told us she was home on the farm at the time of the first killing. But she left for a visit at her mother’s in Ohio on April seventh and didn’t come home until yesterday, which puts her out of state for the last three attacks. She gave us a number of names to substantiate that.”

  “Not Mrs. Sanford, then. Who is the second woman?”

  “Here’s where things get interesting. It’s Savannah Cavett.”

  Meg’s head snapped up to stare at McCord. “Mason’s wife and Will’s mother?”

  “That’s her. Her harvest record is nearly as impressive as her husband’s. But she doesn’t have the lists of trophies behind her name, which was our main thrust early on. According to Beverley, she’s an A1 archer.”

  “We had no idea. No one mentioned that she hunted. You saw the cabinet with all the awards. It was just for the men. She even comes across as someone too fastidious to get her hands dirty killing wildlife.”

  “Needless to say, we wanted to know more, so we went to talk to Mrs. Cavett.”

  Meg exchanged glances with Lauren. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

  “There’s a ‘but’ all right. She wasn’t home. Left first thing in the morning for a spontaneous shopping day in Atlanta. Won’t be home until tonight. And she’s not answering her cell phone.”

  “That looks suspicious on the surface, but when we went to talk to her, didn’t she alibi out for the time in question? She said . . . didn’t she have a lunch date?”

  “Breakfast. With someone named Marnie. Mason Cavett was angry I was questioning his wife, and he gave me her contact information to prove me wrong. The only problem is that Marnie turns out to be Marnie Turnberry, the owner of the local bookstore in town. And on the morning in question, she wasn’t out having breakfast; she was doing inventory with several staff members. She wasn’t initially very forthcoming when we questioned her about why Savannah would use her as an alibi, but we finally got it out of her after pressuring her with the charge of obstruction of justice for impeding a federal agent in the lawful discharge of his duties. Apparently, Savannah called her later that same day, desperate and begging for help. She needed someone to say she’d been with her that morning. Marnie and Savannah go way back to being childhood friends, so Marnie agreed she’d tell Mason if he asked that Savannah was with her.”

  “Mason? This is a murder investigation; why would her husband be asking?”

  “That’s just what Savannah told Marnie. She said she needed cover in case her husband asked because she’d been off with another man at that time and didn’t want her family to find out.”

  McCord let out a low whistle.

  Meg braced both hands on the table and leaned in. “So Savannah got cover for a potential murder by convincing a girlfriend to cover for an affair she wasn’t having?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “That’s interesting. Sam, do you remember the trophy case in the Cavett living room? All those older awards for the son in the place of honor at eye level and the husband’s more recent awards down below. We wondered if their marriage was struggling. Maybe we weren’t far off. It certainly sounds like the affair cover-up was a convincing story for the friend. And actually, it was pretty smart thinking.” Meg looked up at Lauren, who was nodding her agreement.

  “You think so?” Torres said. “It didn’t work for her.”

  “Only because you pressured Marnie with jail time. Otherwise, girlfriends will go to the wall for you in ways a male partner might not.” She glanced at Webb and threw him an apologetic shrug in response to his raised eyebrow and pointed look. “If it had been Savannah’s husband asking, Marnie never would have told him the truth. And I bet Savannah was counting on the spotlight never falling on her. She comes across as a delicate Southern belle. Lets her husband and son have all the accolades and all the glory. I wonder how much of that is because she has an overbearing, competitive husband who isn’t pleased to have a wife with skills that might overshadow his own?”

  “That could be part of it. She could also be using our own unconscious prejudice against us so we saw exactly what she wanted us to see. But under the lady of the manor routine, she may be the one in control. What we do know is Mason can’t alibi her for any of the other attacks.”

  Meg pulled out a chair and sat down. “What about the town hall attack? We know she was there for that. But . . .”

  “What?”

  Meg took a second to bring back the scene from where she’d stood on the staircase. “You were right there when the shooting happened. So was McCord. And Todd. Mason and Will were standing with the mayor, but Savannah was nowhere to be seen.” She turned to McCord and then Webb. “Did either of you see her?”

  “Afterward,” Webb said, “when she was sitting with her son at the rear of the ambulance. That was the first time I saw her.”

  McCord sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Same here. I didn’t see her when the shooting happened. But you’re implying she went after the mayor with her husband and son standing right there? Isn’t that risky?”

  “It would be,” Meg replied. “But if she’s really that good, she may have thought she’d be able to make that shot. But then she missed.”

  “What if . . .” Webb stopped, frowned, and then stepped forward to rest his hand on the back of Meg’s chair and leaned in. “Agent Torres, Beverley said Savannah was good?”

  “Very,” Torres said. “Less kills than many overall, but more per actual hunting trip. She just didn’t get out as much.”

  Meg turned to look up at Webb, who was staring at the phone, his brows drawn together in concentration. “Where are you going with this?”

  “That attack happened when her son and husband were both under investigation. Rutherford described female serial killers as going to great lengths to protect and gather resources for their children. What if that attack wasn’t about the mayor at all? What if Mrs. Cavett was actually trying to take her son off the suspect list by making him a victim?”

  Meg stared at him openmouthed as she worked through the scenario in a new light.

  “That would be incredibly risky,” Lauren interjected. “She could have killed either her husband or son.”

  “Or another innocent bystander,” Scott said.

  “I really wish Brian was here. He was standing with me on the platform where she took that shot. First of all, it wasn’t as far away as some of the shots. Maybe only about fifty yards. And while the shooter was standing in darkness, the parking lot was brightly lit. She could stand there, unseen, line up the shot, and take it when she was absolutely ready. If she meant to wing Will, that’s exactly what she did. She made him the victim and cleared him of all suspicion at the same time.”

  “If that’s true, then she really is that good,” Torres said.

  “Note that she moved to clear Will and not Mason, another nail in the marital strife coffin. Also, think about what she was wearing that night. All black, except for a bright red and silver scarf she could have taken off, wound up, and stuck in a pocket when she wanted to blend into the background.”

  “But what did she do with the bow?” McCord asked. “When we saw her later, she didn’t have one with her.”

  In her mind, Meg went back to the platform, raised on sturdy posts as the hill sloped down into the vineyard fields below it.

  The fields.

  “She tossed it. The fields below the platform are full of rows of grapevines. The bow I shot at the archery range maybe weighed six or seven pounds max.” Meg looked at McCord for confirmation of the weight he’d held and he nodded. “She could have grabbed
one end of the bow and flung it out over the fields, and it could have spun out twenty or thirty feet down the hill. Put the scarf on again, head into the parking lot, and launch into the shocked, panicked mother act. There was so much chaos at the time, she could have melted into the crowd and no one would have noticed because no one was looking for the shooter to come into the crowd. Only move away from it. But that would also explain why there was no defined trail leading away from the platform, just one more that joined the mass of trails leading into the parking lot by the tour participants.”

  “And if the platform was raised off the hillside, she could have come earlier in the day or the day before and hidden the bow underneath it for access later,” Scott suggested. “And then returned at first light the following day to retrieve it from the fields.”

  “It all makes sense,” Meg said. She paused for a moment, giving her brain time to make connections. “You know, there are a few other things that make sense if you think Savannah is the culprit.”

  “Like what?” asked Torres.

  “First off, the fancy arrows. Custom made, with specialized materials, shipped in from out of the area. The Cavetts would be able to afford materials like that. She may not even have ordered them, maybe Mason or Will did and she just helped herself. And remember her sphere of influence. Sam, do you remember what we thought about Mason? That he was someone who would make sure he got what he wanted, no matter who stood in his way.”

  “I remember.”

  “She may have adopted some of that attitude and taken things into her own hands. You know she was protective of the land. Her family’s land. They’re not going to sell voluntarily, so if the land gets taken from them, what are the chances they’ll be fairly paid market value for it?”

  “Pretty small I would bet.”

  “That’s another layer then. I do have one question, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I understand the locations for many of the deaths. Family homes or hunting cabins. Favorite places to hunt. You live in this area, that’s not hard to find out, especially for people who have been in the area and part of the hunting community for decades. But the death at Ocoee Dam #2. How could Savannah possibly have known Gord White would be there that day?”

  “That one’s actually easy,” Torres replied. “When it comes to a scheduled repair, especially if they are going to have to divert water from the flume, it’s carried in the papers, on local TV, and on the TVA website because it affects energy production. My guess is the repair was carried on the local media and Savannah knew someone would be coming out to the flume, just not who. It may be that White wasn’t the target. The target was simply whoever came out from the construction company.”

  “If that’s true, then it’s really a case of wrong place, wrong time for Mr. White. Okay, this is all lining up. You said Savannah is in the wind now?”

  “Yes,” said Torres. “We have to assume she’s on her way to the Fontana Dam.”

  “Then we need to get up there, too. And fast. We’re losing time.”

  There was a pause at the other end of the line, then, “Craig here. I have that covered. There’s a helipad just outside Blue Ridge on US Highway 76. The Georgia State Patrol are sending a helicopter at noon to carry the five of us and the dogs to the dam. We’ll save at least an hour that way. We’ll have time to get the lay of the land, hopefully before she gets there or at least before she comes onto the site. I have the TVA police, and both the Graham and Swain County Sheriff’s Offices in the loop as the dam is officially in both counties. Everyone is on board to assist. We’re on our way to the helipad now. See you there.” He ended the call.

  “Time for us to go.” Meg pinned McCord with a flat stare. “You can’t come with us, but I know wild horses won’t keep you away.” She turned to Webb. “Probably both of you, so the same instructions apply. Stay back, and stay out of the way. It’s a public place and will likely be crawling with media, onlookers, protesters, hikers, and run-of-the-mill tourists. Stay alert and stay clear of that announcement. If it really is Savannah, she’s not going to be anywhere near it, but I don’t want anyone getting caught by a stray shot. I’d never hear the end of it from Cara.”

  She turned to her dog. “Hawk, come.” She ran her hand over his head when he stood at her knee. “Let’s finish this once and for all.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Eminent Domain: The right of a government to seize private property for public use. After the creation of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in 1934, Fontana village became a copper mining town; but just after December 7, 1941, the federal government ordered that mining interests on Eagle Creek in western North Carolina be terminated immediately. With that order came notice that the Tennessee Valley Authority was on its way to Graham County. A legislative act had already authorized the construction of a gigantic hydroelectric power dam on the Little Tennessee River. The location of this project, one of the largest engineering feats in history, was to be on land already acquired from the Aluminum Company of America (Alcoa). Construction of the new dam—to be named “Fontana”—began on January 1, 1942.

  Thursday, April 18, 1:44 PM

  Fontana Dam

  Graham and Swain Counties, North Carolina

  “This is amazing,” Scott said from where he leaned over the edge of the dam. “Come and take a look.”

  Meg, Lauren, Scott, and their three dogs stood on top of the dam, on the concrete path that spanned the structure and carried a throughway of the Appalachian Trail. A shiver ran down Meg’s spine at the thought of what was on the other side of the solid concrete barrier wall where Scott perched. “You know I don’t like heights. Why would I willingly look over the edge?”

  “Because when’s the next time you’re going to be this close to a structure like this?”

  “I’ll bite.” Lauren came to stand next to Scott and bent forward to look straight down. Her hands tightened on the railing that topped the barrier wall, her knuckles standing out in stark white with the force of her grip. “You’re right. It’s impressive.”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  Meg rolled her eyes and let out a long-suffering breath. Then, clamping on tight to the waist-high metal railing, Meg cautiously leaned slightly out to peer down the river side of the dam. The steeply angled concrete stretched down—way, way down, over forty stories down—all the way to the multilevel powerhouse at the bottom next to a parking lot that appeared to be full of toy cars. Nearby, neat rows of switches and transformers carried the electricity generated in the powerhouse to the lines that distributed it all over the state. Staring down the wide expanse of concrete to the river below made Meg dizzy, so she straightened and turned her back on the terrifying drop to stare out at the peaceful blue waters of Fontana lake on the opposite side of the dam. “You know, that is one pretty lake.”

  Laughing, Scott swiveled to face the lake, taking in the smooth surface and undulating shoreline edged with thick forest. “Sure is.” Movement drew his attention to their right. “Here comes Craig.” He raised his hand in greeting. “Do you know what’s going on?” he called.

  Craig, dressed in casual clothes—a rare occurrence—waited until he was closer so he didn’t have to shout. “Yes. Come on back toward the Visitor Center so you can see how this is going to go. It will be easier if you actually see the setup.”

  They followed him along the top of the dam, and the tightness left Meg’s chest as the sides of the river gorge rose to meet the edge of the dam and she didn’t feel like she was poised hundreds of feet above a killing drop. Taking the deep breath she’d been unable to draw for the last fifteen minutes, she scanned the area around them.

  The glassed-in Visitor Center was a long building with a circular section at the end nearest the dam. Stairs climbed that curve, leading to a round platform on the roof where visitors could look out over the breadth of the dam. A crowd of people buzzed over it, setting up a low platform in front of the dam and electronic eq
uipment to capture the announcement. A circular driveway wound in front of the Visitor Center, and past it, a long, U-shaped parking lot stretched parallel to the river.

  Craig stopped at the top of a flight of steps that led down to the parking lot area. Beyond the steps, two enormous chutes tunneled steeply into the ground, mirroring the angle of the dam. More than thirty feet across each, they opened toward the lake, separated from the body of water by heavy steel gates.

  After her mini-lesson at Ocoee Dam #2 and the flume, Meg recognized these as the dam spillway, but the sheer scope was mind-boggling. She peered over the edge, but the tunnel simply melted into darkness stories below. She took a step backward from the spillway tunnel, happy to put several feet between herself and that unending drop into nothingness.

  “The media announcement will take place up there on the dam overlook.” Craig pointed to the hum of activity on the roof of the Visitor Center. “They’re supposed to start at four o’clock and expect both local and national media to attend. Honestly, it sounds like it’s going to be a crush.”

  Lauren turned away from the center to face Craig with an expression of doubt. “And knowing what we do, or at least what we suspect, they think proceeding with the announcement is a good idea? Shouldn’t they consider canceling it? Torres has shared everything we know with all levels of law enforcement?”

  “He has, including the TVA police. Needless to say, they let the TVA administration know, especially the guy who is supposed to be making the announcement.”

  “Who’s that?” Scott asked.

  “Kenneth Buckner, the Senior Vice President of Resources and Operations Support. He’s the guy spearheading the Copperhill Dam project. Torres and I talked to him, but he wouldn’t cancel.”

  “Does he have a death wish?” Meg asked.

  “No, but he’s really sick of protesters and bureaucracy. He just wants to get this project off the ground. Also, he knew Gord White, the third victim, personally. As far as he’s concerned, if he can do something to help catch the person who killed White, he’s all in. But we did manage to convince him to at least take reasonable precautions. We’re going to put him in body armor under his suit. Every attempt made has been a torso shot, so we’re going to protect against that. The other thing we’re going to do is have a lot of officers in plain clothes all over the facility. She’s not going to be able to get close enough to take an accurate shot. But we’re going to let her get close enough to try.”