The more rest she got, the more her strength—and hopefully her ability to read a map—would be restored. She folded a shirt for a pillow and half lay, half sat with her back propped against a low, smooth rock. She closed her eyes, but her mind refused to slumber. Her thoughts kept returning to the locks of hair in her backpack.
And to that horrible note.
She’d bolted so suddenly she hadn’t had time to burn it.
She had no idea what had become of it, or what might happen to her if it were found.
Chapter 14
Thursday, October 24
4:30 P.M.
Near Frank’s Cabin
Eagles Nest Wilderness area
Colorado
Pandora McBain from the Dillon Ranger District met Spense, Caity, and Hatcher at the foot of the county road leading to the Angel Rock trailhead, which in turn led to Frank’s Cabin—part of the Eagles Nest Wilderness’s hut system. The road was closed yearly between winter season and summer season. In other words, now. However, though wet, the road was still passable to four-wheel-drive vehicles.
Also present, having arrived separately, were eight other men and women: an eclectic group made up of crime-scene techs, detectives, and a local cop. Some had extensive training in wilderness search and rescue.
Most did not.
Ranger Pandy, as she’d introduced herself, headed up the junior park ranger program and the Seniors Gone Wild volunteer program. She’d also been personally responsible for the location and rescue of more lost hikers than any other official in Colorado history.
Spense estimated the redheaded ranger’s stature to be a few inches shy of five feet. By her take-charge manner, he estimated her wallop to be a couple of sticks shy of a keg of dynamite. “Who here doesn’t know jack about wilderness search and rescue?” she barked to the assembly.
Several hands rose.
“Okay then, unless Detective Hatcher needs you at the cabin . . .” She paused, waiting for him to speak now.
He held his peace.
“You folks are officially assigned to containment.”
The uniform from Dillon shot his hand up again. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means you and the tall dude in the Broncos shirt have the incredibly important task of parking your butts halfway up this road and waiting for our subject to come to you. There’s a spooky old house about three quarters of the way up, so keep a ways below that marker. The rest of the rookies will set up track traps once we figure out where to put them.”
“We aren’t going to search at all?”
“You’re going to contain. It’s not glamorous, but in a situation like this, containment reduces the area we have to search. And that increases our POD—probability of detection.”
“Track traps?” another novice asked.
“So you really don’t know jack.” But there was no impatience in Pandy’s voice. She was simply a very straightforward individual, and Spense liked straightforward individuals. Especially when they were dedicated and smart. “We’re gonna dump sand over key spots on the trails and what-have-you. If our subject crosses that way, we’ll know it.”
“What if they attempt to conceal their footprints?”
“Then we’ll see evidence of that, too. Now if you’ll hold your questions, I’d appreciate it. Everyone else, unless you’re needed to process the crime scene, you’ll pair up for a hasty search. If you haven’t done one of these before, it’s just like it sounds. Hasty. No grid. No coordinates. It’ll be dark soon, so we gotta move quick. We’ll fan out and stay in touch by radio. Move fast. Jog—that’s right, I said jog—the trails and check the most likely spots. Anywhere you think a victim might be. Look for clues. Stuff that’s out of place. Our PLS—point last seen—is Frank’s Cabin. We believe the subject to be female. Likely weak or injured. Even if she can only cover one mile an hour, we have no idea which direction she headed. A one mile 360-degree radius is still a lot of area to search, and we won’t get it done before the sun goes down, but let’s give it our all just the same. Somebody’s life depends on it.”
“I heard this girl might just be a runaway,” one of the searchers said.
“Not likely. According to our witness, there’s a significant amount of blood at the cabin. That means we’re not gonna find our subject holed up doing coke with her boyfriend in an Idaho Springs motel room. So what say we quit shooting the shit and haul our tails up to Frank’s place?”
Chapter 15
Thursday, October 24
5:15 P.M.
Frank’s Cabin
Eagles Nest Wilderness
Colorado
“There’s blood all right. Everyone keep back and let the techs do their thing.” Standing on the porch of Frank’s Cabin with paper booties on his feet, Hatcher put up a stop sign with one hand and motioned his CSIs inside with the other. The wind was blowing hard and carried with it the tang of spilt blood mixed with something less familiar. The final result was an odor noxious enough to trigger Spense’s gag reflex, and he had a well-seasoned, cast-iron stomach.
The rookies had been designated to either track traps or containment, leaving Spense, Caity, Ranger Pandy, and Hatcher to conduct the hasty search. Except Hatcher would probably need to stay back and manage the troops.
“I’ll join you in a minute—but I wanna get a preliminary read from the techs first,” Hatcher said, confirming Spense’s assumption.
And then there were three.
Spense cast his gaze over at Caity and Pandy. Ideally, the searchers would pair up—hard to manage when all you had was a trio.
“Subject’s not inside,” Hatcher continued. “But according to Cayman, Laura was wearing a green dress at dinner with Ron Saas on Monday night. As advertised, there’s a green dress on the cabin floor.”
“Bloodied?” Spense asked.
“Not at first glance, but I didn’t touch anything. We’ll find out when we get a good look-see.”
“Based on the amount of visible blood inside, you think she’s alive?” Despite his itch to check out the cabin himself, Spense knew it was best to stick to his assigned duties. They were short on both daylight and personnel. He took time to ask only because Laura’s condition, assuming that’s who belonged to the green dress on the cabin floor, would inform their search. If she’d been badly wounded, she wouldn’t make it far, and there might be a blood trail to guide them. If she was dead, they’d be looking for a concealed body or shallow grave. As they jogged the trails, they’d be homing in on a whole different set of indicators.
Hatcher wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
It was as cold outside as Angelina Antonelli’s unsolved murder, but the detective was sweating. Clearly, this case meant more to him than most—redemption perhaps.
“I’ve seen a lot worse where we still got ourselves a survivor. But something bad happened in there—no question about that. There’s plenty of gore to go around, and we got feces and vomit, too.”
That explained the other smells.
Hatcher covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief. “Trust me, you’re better off on search duty.”
“As a shortcut, let’s assume it was Laura who fled out the back. We still don’t know that it’s her blood in there.” Spense could hear the note of hope in Caity’s voice.
And she had a point. Given the green dress, odds were good Laura had been in the cabin, but that didn’t mean that any or all of the blood was hers. “The hiker who called it in did say the female subject took off quickly. A mortally wounded victim wouldn’t have been able to flee at all.”
Hatcher’s expression remained grim. “Maybe it was the perpetrator who ran. Or one of those off-the-grid types, someone who might’ve wanted to use the cabin for shelter, but found a crime scene instead.”
“Or someone who found Laura and did her harm.” Best to consider all angles. “It’s off season. Road’s closed. They’d be expecting the cabin to be vacant. And even though the dress is
a good indicator Laura was here, it doesn’t tell us when or how she got here. If it wasn’t her fleeing, we have to consider the possibility we may be looking for her body,” Spense said gravely.
Caity’s face fell. “You’ve got mountain folk up here?” she asked Pandy.
“I’m afraid so, on occasion. Most of them loners—sort of paranoid only not crazy—I know there’s a term for that . . .”
“Schizoid,” Caity said.
“Right. Schizoid personalities. The type who don’t like to hang out with other people. But, we haven’t had any reports of mountain men . . . or women recently.” Pandy swung her slender frame in a full circle as if expecting one of the hermits to appear. She kept her hand on the weapon at her side.
“Is your rifle loaded?” Caity asked.
Spense, too, had been wondering what kind of firepower the ranger was carrying.
“Tranquilizer darts. Just in case we come across a critter we don’t want to harm,” Pandy answered.
Too bad she wasn’t carrying live ammo. No telling what situation they might encounter, and Spense had been hoping he could pair Caity off with Pandy. They needed to divide and conquer to cover the most ground, and he didn’t want to send either one of them off alone.
Ranger Pandy pulled her jacket aside, revealing a holstered pistol. “Here’s the good stuff.”
Spense released his breath, relieved to know Pandy was armed and ready after all. The tension in his shoulders eased up, too. Caity had her Glock, and he knew she knew how to use it, at least from short distances. The women could safely team up, leaving him free to focus his attention on the search. He wouldn’t have to worry about Caity—much.
No matter how small the risk, fear for her safety inevitably coated moments like these with a razor’s edge. It was one of the un-perks of his and Caity’s on-the-job romance.
“Let’s fan out,” Pandy said. “Not much daylight left, but we can make a good start. Once the light runs out, we’ll meet back at the cabin. I’ll go east. Cassidy and Spenser, you go west.”
He respected the ranger’s authority, but that wasn’t the best plan. “Caity will stick with you. We’re on the buddy system.”
Pandy tiptoed up to a good four-foot ten, at least. She got in his face, or as close as someone her height could manage. “She’s your buddy. She goes with you.”
“I can move faster alone.”
“We can all move faster alone.” Caity stepped between him and Pandy. “Let’s forget the pairs. We can cover more ground that way.”
“Absolutely not.” It was Hatcher. “The women should team up. Don’t want them out there alone.”
Spense tried not to show it, but he was damn glad Hatcher had backed him up. It wasn’t that the women were less able, it was just that if anyone out here had to travel without a safety buddy it was going to be him. He would’ve felt the same if it were a male ranger. Or if Caity were a man, which thank God in heaven she wasn’t.
Pandy spat on the ground. “I get it. I’m small. I look like a little kid. But I’m not a child. I can handle myself in the mountains without an escort—and I’ve got the record to back it up. I am the escort around these parts.”
“This isn’t a standard lost hiker search, Pandy. There could be an armed madman—or madwoman out there,” Spense said.
“I assure you, I know how to handle myself around predators of all varieties.”
Caity stretched her hands to arm’s length, bridging the distance between Pandy and him. “We’re wasting time. I don’t give a fig about your ego, Pandy.” She shot him a look. “Or yours either, Spense. Pandy, I’ve got your back, and I’d appreciate it if you’d get mine.”
Pandy nodded. “Deal.”
Hatcher dusted his palms as though washing his hands of them, turned his back and went inside.
“Let’s do this,” Pandy called over her shoulder, already jogging east.
Chapter 16
Thursday, October 24
5:20 P.M.
Frank’s Cabin
Eagles Nest Wilderness
Colorado
Caitlin took off behind Pandy, a few yards to the side to increase coverage, making sure to keep Pandy’s bright orange hair in sight.
Despite the fact Caitlin hadn’t had any formal search and rescue training, she’d been put in some pretty tough situations on the job—like playing hide-and-seek with killers while searching for a lost teen in a blazing corn maze. Plus, she’d always been an outdoor girl and thus could easily spot something amiss on a mountain trail.
Her confidence level was high.
She could’ve gone without a buddy, but if Spense felt better knowing she was paired with Pandy, she wasn’t going to fight him. Though she had her Glock, and could use it in a pinch, she wasn’t a trained marksman, and she’d been in enough close scrapes to know her own limitations. More importantly, she wanted Spense to focus on finding Laura. If he was distracted by worry over her, she’d be a liability rather than an asset, and she was determined not to let that happen.
But mere moments later, she lost sight of Pandy.
She picked up her pace.
For someone with such short legs, that ranger could haul.
A flash of red hair appeared up ahead.
Good.
It wasn’t easy to keep up with Pandy. Every breath Caitlin took was like a blast of frozen buckshot to her lungs.
Keep going.
Most of the snow that’d fallen overnight had melted in the afternoon sun. Only scattered patches remained. In places, she saw soft, moist dirt, but it quickly merged with scree and dense vegetative ground cover. Her gaze alternated between the horizon and the trail as her brain processed each broken branch, every snapped twig, looking for a pattern. A sign someone had come this way before her.
Still no footprints.
But under these conditions a herd of elephants could’ve tromped through and left no tracks. The sand traps were definitely needed. She tripped over some knee timber, breaking the fall with her hands, but hit her hip hard against a rock. Her palms burned where they scraped the ground. Her chest ached, and her lungs were frostbitten, but she couldn’t stop to rest. Not without losing Pandy again.
Caitlin concentrated hard, dividing her thoughts between watching and wondering: watching for signs; wondering which way Laura would head if she was lost, or where she would hide if she didn’t want to be found. If she was disoriented, she might be wandering in circles or doubling back randomly.
Caitlin lifted her knees higher to cover ground faster. Tried not to focus on the low odds a hasty search like this one would produce results. It wasn’t until her teeth started to hurt, and her tongue went painfully dry that she realized her mouth was hanging open. She was panting like a winded pup.
The altitude!
Of course!
They were above 9,000 feet. Pandy might be little, but she hiked up here on a routine basis. She was acclimated to the thin air. No wonder she could move faster. Caitlin’s gaze darted to all sides and her frustration mounted. She could no longer see the back of a red head bobbing in the distance. How far behind the ranger was she?
“Pandy!”
Only a bird called back.
“Pandy, I need you to slow down!”
Still no response. She tried to accelerate, and though her muscles answered the call, her heart and lungs simply couldn’t.
She’d hit her max.
She needed oxygen.
She kept jogging anyway, but she knew she was flagging, falling farther and farther behind. The sun dipped below the mountains, and though there was still light, its red-gold hue made it hard to catch the detail she was after.
She flipped on her flashlight.
And froze.
There, in a dirty patch of snow, she saw two dents: prints from the heel and toe of a boot?
Her heart jumped to her throat.
“Pandy!” Her voice floated on the wind, bouncing off the boulders that seemed to rise up from nowhere
. “Over here! I found something!”
Chapter 17
Thursday, October 24
5:45 P.M.
Eagles Nest Wilderness
Colorado
Laura woke to the sound of shouting. Her head jerked, and her ears rang from the crack of her skull hitting a rock. She raised her hand and felt her pulse throbbing in her temples.
She jumped up.
Quickly crouched back down.
Stay out of sight!
There it was again—a woman’s voice. Urgent. Determined. Getting closer.
They’re looking for you!
Laura bit her hand to keep from answering back. Her body drew tight as a slingshot ready to fire. Her heart and mind tugged in opposite directions until she thought she really might snap. Her heart told her to run straight into the arms of that shouting woman. Her heart wanted to be rescued. Her heart longed to be carried home to the safety of her parents and tucked lovingly into the comfort of her own bed.
But her mind screamed at her to get away. Home wasn’t safe.
It never had been.
She’d been kidnapped from her own bed once before, then returned to her family by rescuers, only to be made a prisoner in a house where she could never feel secure again.
And this time it would be worse.
Then she’d been presumed innocent: a young victim to be guarded and protected.
Now she’d be presumed guilty. It wouldn’t be her safety the guards would concern themselves with. Not this time. Not with these locks of hair in her possession. Not with that note, if they’d found it.
And if she’d truly done what the letter claimed, she’d be locked away for the rest of her days.
Silent sobs choked her as sure as hands tightening around her throat. She opened her mouth and gasped in breath after breath until the spasms passed.
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