by Lara Lacombe
Rebecca took a drink as she pondered his question. “I don’t enjoy my work—not in the sense that I think you do,” she said finally. “But I derive great satisfaction from finding a killer or solving a crime. There are bad people out there, and I believe if I can understand them, even just a little bit, I can protect others. I don’t want to learn about killers because they interest me—I study them so I can predict what others like them might do. I guess you could say I do this for the victims, in the hopes of preventing more deaths.”
Her answer made sense, and Quinn felt his emotions settle a bit. But one question still lingered. “How do you keep from bringing your work home with you? Doesn’t something like that contaminate other areas of your life?”
She shrugged. “It can, if I let it. But when I talk to killers, I try to leave my emotions out of it. These people are predators, and it gets them off if they know they’re bothering you. I refuse to give them that satisfaction. I view my job as a puzzle—I try to put the pieces in the right order to solve the case and catch the bad guy. I’ve gotten pretty good at building a wall between myself and what I do. I guess you could say I’m an expert at compartmentalizing things.” She offered a half smile, shrugging slightly.
Quinn couldn’t imagine living that way, with everything put into neat and tidy boxes that weren’t allowed to touch. Maybe he was wired differently, but it seemed that every aspect of his life impacted another. It was part of why he’d loved working at Yosemite—he and Ashley had both loved hiking and camping in the park, and he’d enjoyed sharing the best parts of his job with her. The thought of working a job that needed to be set aside daily for the good of his mental health made him a little sad, and he felt a spurt of pity for Rebecca.
She doesn’t need me to feel bad for her, he thought. Rebecca was clearly a thoughtful and intelligent woman who had found a career that interested her, if nothing else. She was qualified to do any number of jobs, so if she was really bothered by her career, she could find another. Just because Quinn couldn’t imagine living that way didn’t mean she was miserable.
Still, curiosity nagged him. Before he could think better of it, he spoke again. “Does that make it hard to have friends?”
She blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “What, you mean my tendency to compartmentalize?” At his nod, she shook her head. “Not really. I don’t talk about my work with my friends, and they know better than to ask except in the broadest of terms. Most people don’t want to know the details of a serial killer’s crimes, and I won’t talk about those things if I think someone is just looking for a cheap thrill.”
He nodded, grabbing his water for another sip. Rebecca cocked her head to the side, studying him. “What’s with the twenty questions?” She sounded curious and a little bit wary, as if she hadn’t decided what to make of his interest in her life.
Quinn shrugged. “You’re the first FBI profiler I’ve met. What you do is so foreign to me—I can’t imagine working with killers and investigating murder cases all the time. I’m just trying to understand how you do it, how you handle the more difficult parts.” He shook his head. “I could never do that.”
“You might be surprised what you can handle when you have to,” she said cryptically. She recapped her bottle and glanced at her watch. “Should we get back to it?”
“Yeah.” Quinn stashed his empty bottle and reshouldered his pack. “We’re not too far. Maybe another half hour?”
She waited for him to take the lead again and fell into step behind him. The rest of the hike passed in silence; it was hot, and the going was strenuous. Finally, they arrived.
It wasn’t difficult to find—yellow crime-scene tape was still strung across small bushes, acting as a flimsy barrier to keep out trespassers. The ground was littered with footprints, both human and animal; he saw the distinctive mark of a mountain lion, along with what looked like prints from both a mule deer and a raccoon.
Quinn forced himself to look at the spot where he’d found the woman. He half expected to see the outline of her body in the dirt, but it was blessedly clear of marks, as the wind, animals and the police would have brushed them away. He swallowed hard and looked away to find Rebecca watching him intently.
“You okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m just...” He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his breastbone to ease the sudden ache in his chest. “I’m going to sit over here, if you don’t mind. Take your time.” He walked a few feet away to a large rock on the edge of the trail and sat, leaving Rebecca free to study the area to her heart’s content.
Even though the site was free from any reminders of his discovery, Quinn’s mind had no problem picturing the woman on the ground, her hair strewn across her face. Not again had been his first thought when he’d stumbled across the second body. Initially, he’d thought he was seeing things. He’d been thinking of the first victim as he’d walked, unable to get her out of his head. So when he’d come across the second woman he’d assumed he was simply having a very vivid hallucination brought on by emotional distress and the heat. But then the smell of death had hit him, and he’d realized the sight in front of him was very real.
Why me? he thought for what must have been the millionth time. Why had he been the one to find both victims? Was it simply an awful coincidence, or was there something more sinister at work?
After what seemed like an eternity, Rebecca walked over. “I’m ready.”
“Did you get what you needed?” He rose to his feet, glad she was done. Maybe someday he’d be able to hike this trail without being assaulted by the memories of his gruesome discovery, but not today.
“More or less.” She was quiet for a moment, the crunch of their footsteps the only sound. “I appreciate you bringing me here,” she said. “I can see it was hard for you.”
Quinn jerked up one shoulder in a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’m just glad you got the information you were searching for.”
“I did,” she murmured. “In more ways than one.” He shot her a quizzical look and she shook her head. “He’s physically fit, that much is obvious. Probably a frequent visitor to the park—I’m willing to bet he had this spot picked out for a while. It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. He probably fantasized about bringing a woman here to kill her.”
A wave of revulsion hit Quinn and he bit his lip to keep from vomiting. “We can check visitor logs at all the ranger stations,” he said, his voice coming out a little hoarse. “But there’s no guarantee he registered with us.”
“Have the police already started combing through camping permits?”
He nodded. “Yes. But not everyone follows the rules.”
“True.” She sounded thoughtful. “And a man who was so careful to scrub the site probably wouldn’t make the mistake of applying for a camping permit.”
“You’re sure it’s a man?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Statistically speaking, yes. Most serial killers are men. And the women were strangled to death, which takes brute strength.”
Quinn digested her words, nodding as he realized she was likely right.
“You think he’s staying in the park?” The thought sent a chill down Quinn’s spine. If the killer was camping in the backcountry, they might never find him. It would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.
“Anything is possible,” Rebecca said. “I want to focus on the victims first, though. If they had a permit, we can try to retrace their steps in the days leading up to their deaths. If we’re really lucky, we’ll find a shared location or some other point where they may have crossed paths with the killer.”
“You think he met them here?”
“More than likely. It’s possible the first victim came with him, but the second one was definitely someone he picked up recently. And given the identical display of the bodies, I don’t think he knew the women on more than a superficial l
evel.”
Quinn’s curiosity got the better of him. “How can you tell that?”
“When a killer really knows his victim, he usually treats the body differently. Some murderers are overcome with guilt and treat the body almost tenderly, while some have a surge of anger and do further damage to the remains. Either way, there is usually a sign that the crime was personal. But in the case of our two victims, the bodies were staged identically. That makes me think he didn’t know either one of them on an intimate level.”
“He must be pretty charismatic,” Quinn mused.
Rebecca’s gaze sharpened. “What makes you say that?”
“He got two women—strangers, you think—to trust him enough to set off on a strenuous hike alone with him,” he pointed out. “Most hikers and campers are friendly, but they’re also savvy about safety. If a man I didn’t know approached me and wanted to take on a remote trail together, I wouldn’t go. And I’m a fairly big guy.”
“Very good,” she said softly. “I’m impressed you picked up on that. We’ll make a profiler out of you yet, Quinn.”
He blushed but didn’t reply.
“There’s just one thing that bothers me about this,” she said.
“Only one?” Quinn joked lamely.
Rebecca acknowledged his point with a nod. “Why haven’t we heard from anyone who knows the victims? These women didn’t pop out of thin air. They had families, friends. Why has no one reported them missing? You just said hikers are savvy about safety, so it’s unlikely they came to the park alone. Someone should have noticed when they didn’t return.”
“Maybe he’s not meeting them in the park,” Quinn said. “What if he’s bringing them in from one of the neighboring towns?”
“Good point,” she said. “Sounds like I need to widen my search.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said impulsively. Rebecca raised one eyebrow in surprise. “The people in these little towns aren’t always welcoming to outsiders. I’m not going to get in your way, but I don’t think you should go by yourself.” He didn’t like the thought of her going off alone, especially not with a murderer on the loose. As an FBI agent she’d probably had self-defense training, but she still could be overpowered by the brute strength of a determined assailant. Quinn didn’t have any illusions regarding his fighting prowess, but he was on the larger side and knew how to throw a punch.
When Rebecca didn’t reply, he added, “If you don’t want me to tag along, at least take a police officer with you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I think you’ll do just fine.”
Chapter 4
The sun was low in the sky by the time they got back to the trailhead. Rebecca was sweaty, dusty, flushed with heat and thoroughly tired. But it had been worth it. Seeing the site had confirmed some of her first impressions regarding the killer, and watching Quinn’s reactions made her even more confident he wasn’t involved in these deaths.
He hadn’t said much during the hike back, and she was fine with the silence. It gave her space to think, to try to organize her thoughts and plan her next steps. She needed to talk to the police, find out what progress they’d made in tracking the victims. They were still searching for the names of the women, but hopefully a friend or relative would step forward soon with information. The coroner’s initial physical examination had revealed the victims were in good shape and didn’t show signs of being runaways or of having lived rough recently. Someone should be missing them... Maybe it was time to blast the national news with their pictures and widen the search.
“Do you—” Quinn began, then stopped abruptly, shaking his head.
“Do I what?”
He bit his bottom lip, hesitating. Then with a small shrug, he spoke again. “I just can’t figure out why I discovered both women. There are dozens of people who work here and are out and about every day, in every area of the park. I wouldn’t want anyone to find what I did, but I don’t understand why I had to be the one to come across both victims.” There was a hint of anguish in his voice, and Rebecca could tell he’d been haunted by the question probably since he’d found the first body.
“That is unusual,” she said. “And it makes me wonder if the placement of the bodies wasn’t random.”
His face went pale under the brim of his hat. “You think the killer meant for me to find them?”
“I think we need to consider that possibility, yes.”
“But...why? And how would he do that?”
Rebecca tilted her head to the side. “The why is harder to answer, at least right now. As to the how, I’m assuming you have a daily routine? Certain trails you check frequently, or specific areas of the park that you cover?”
Quinn nodded, looking gobsmacked. “Yes. I lead guided tours on some of the trails, and when I found the first woman, I’d been sent to check on a section of fencing at the top of the mountain that some hikers had reported was damaged.”
“And was it?” That was a hell of a coincidence. Was one of the hikers the killer, creating a false report of damage to deliberately lead Quinn to the first victim?
“I—I don’t know,” he admitted. “I stopped when I found her, and after the police arrived I didn’t think to go on and check the fencing.”
“Hmmm,” she mused. “Who talked to the hikers?”
“I’m not sure who was on duty at the front desk that day. We can check the logs.” By this time they had reached the parking lot of the ranger station. Quinn’s revelation put a burst of energy into Rebecca’s step and she picked up the pace, her earlier fatigue forgotten.
Quinn caught up with her and held open the door, then led her through the lobby into a room of cubicles. He sat at a desk and gestured for her to take the chair across from him. She perched on the edge, watching as his fingers danced across the keyboard. “Looks like Sam Oberlin was on duty that morning,” he said.
“Is he here now?” Rebecca scanned the room, noting with disappointment only two other people were still working.
Quinn shook his head. “He works the early morning shift. You can talk to him tomorrow.”
“What’s the procedure when a visitor reports damage like that? Do you get a name and contact information?” Please, please, please, she thought. If one of the hikers was the killer, he probably hadn’t left his real name. But it wouldn’t take long to discover he’d been lying, and she’d at least have a description of the man’s face and body to help narrow the search.
“Sometimes,” Quinn replied. “But usually we just take the information and check it out.”
Rebecca pressed her lips together, trying to suppress the frustration welling in her chest. “Okay,” she said. “I still need to talk to Sam, though. Maybe he remembers what the men looked like, or got their names even if he didn’t record them.”
“I hope so,” Quinn said. He sounded disappointed as well, as if he’d hoped to be able to deliver better news. “Do you still want to hike to the first site tomorrow? We’ll need to start early if you do.”
Rebecca considered his question for a moment. Would she learn anything new by seeing the first spot in person? Or would her time be better served combing through the small towns dotting the area outside the park in the hopes of finding more information on the victims?
“What do you think?” she asked, curious to see his reaction. He’d struggled with their return to the second dump site today. Would he try to talk her out of going to the first one?
“It’s your show,” he said, his expression impassive. “I’ll do whatever you need to help the investigation. I will warn you, though—the hike up the mountain is more difficult than the one we took today. If you do want to go, it might be a good idea to rest a day or two before we try to tackle it, since you’re not used to hiking.”
Rebecca nodded. “That sounds reasonable. In th
e meantime, I want to start checking out the nearby towns. Maybe one of the victims passed through on her way to the park.”
“What time do you want to get started?”
She appreciated his ready offer of help, and despite her resolve to keep her distance from him, her respect for him grew. “Early. We’ll talk to Sam first and go from there.” She rose from the chair and Quinn stood as well, an automatic display of manners that she’d come to realize was ingrained in him.
“Sounds good. I’ll meet you here.” He rounded his desk, and she realized he intended to walk her to her car. The gesture made her feel feminine in a way she hadn’t in a long time, and she decided to enjoy it.
“Thanks for today,” she said as they walked out of the building. “I know it was hard for you.”
He acknowledged her words with a nod. “I’m just glad it helped you.” His voice was deep and quiet in the gloaming, and for a moment Rebecca felt like they were the only two people in the park.
They arrived at her car and she stood by the door, suddenly reluctant to leave. What was it about this man that made her feel comfortable in his company? She had to be careful; if she didn’t watch herself, she’d let down her guard and start to trust him.
“Make sure you keep drinking water tonight,” he said. There was nothing personal about his words, but the advice felt intimate somehow, the expression of concern something a friend might say.
Or a lover.
A shiver shot through Rebecca’s limbs and she nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Drive safely.” His mouth curved up in a small smile, and she realized with a jolt he was waiting for her to get into the car and leave.
Smooth, she thought to herself. Real smooth. “You, too,” she said. She climbed behind the wheel. “Good night.”
Quinn stayed in the parking lot as she drove away, watching her leave with an expression she couldn’t identify. Was she the only one affected by these odd moments, or did he feel the frissons, too?
