by Cindi Myers
“They bought the land a few weeks ago and wanted to spend some time on it. They said it was really beautiful up there. Who killed them?”
“We don’t know yet. Did either of them mention having an argument or disagreement with anyone? Did they mention arranging to meet someone up here?”
“No. It was just a quick trip to get the lay of the land and make plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“Casey!” She choked out the word. “What about Casey? Is she all right?”
“Who is Casey?” Gage asked.
“Their daughter. My niece. She was with them. Is she all right? Did whoever do this kill her, too?”
Gage felt as if someone had reached into his chest and grabbed his heart and squeezed. “You’re sure she was with them? How old is Casey?”
“She’s five. And yes, I’m sure she was with them. You didn’t see her?”
“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bring his memory of the scene at the camp into focus. No child’s toys scattered about. Sleeping bags and tote box in the tent. Some clothing—maybe something pink, but at the time he had assumed it belonged to the woman. Women wore pink. But now that he thought about it again, the T-shirt had been a little on the small side for Angela Hood. “You’re sure your niece was with her parents on this trip? Maybe they left her with friends or a relative.”
“They wouldn’t do that. Or if they did, I would know about it. If they needed someone to watch Casey, I would do it.” Her voice rose, pinched with agitation. “What’s happened to her?”
“I promise I’ll find out. I have to go now, but I’ll call you back as soon as I know something.”
Fighting a sick feeling in his stomach, he hit the speed dial for Travis again, even as he started the SUV. “Those two murder victims up here?” he said as soon as Travis answered. “They had a kid with them. We’ve got a missing little girl.”
Chapter Two
Maya Renfro gripped the steering wheel of her Volkswagen Beetle so hard her fingers ached, and depressed the accelerator until she was doing eighty. The roads were dry and clear and if highway patrol stopped her, she’d give them Deputy Gage Walker’s number and tell them to take it up with him. Her sister was dead and her niece was missing, and every movement felt as if Maya were swimming through quicksand.
This had to be a bad dream. Real life couldn’t be this horrible, could it?
But of course it could. You didn’t teach high school for four years without seeing a little of that awfulness—kids kicked out of the house while they were still in their teens, colleagues who died of cancer, budget cuts that sliced into the most meaningful programs.
But life that bad had never happened to Maya before. It shouldn’t happen to Angela—or to Casey.
She fought back tears and gripped the steering wheel even harder. She had to keep it together. When she got to Eagle Mountain, she had to be there for Casey.
The cop on the other end of the line—Gage Walker—hadn’t even known Casey existed. How was that possible? Angela and Greg never traveled anywhere without a whole carload of kid gear. Not to mention both their phones were full of pictures of Casey, from newborn right up through her fifth birthday party two months ago.
Maya had been at that party. She had brought a tiara for Casey to wear and the little girl had been thrilled. The screen saver on Maya’s phone was a picture taken at the party, of her and Maya grinning for the camera.
Casey had to be okay. She had to be.
As soon as the news of Angela’s death really began to hit her, Maya had tried to call the cop—Gage—again. The call had gone straight to voice mail. Instead of leaving what would probably have been a hysterical message, she left an aide in charge of her sixth period class, let her principal know she was leaving and why, and rushed home to throw a few things in her car and head for Eagle Mountain.
By the time Deputy Walker had called her back to tell her Casey was missing and they were making every effort to find her, Maya was already speeding toward Eagle Mountain. She didn’t know much about the town—it was in western Colorado, apparently located in a beautiful area that attracted lots of tourists. Angela and Greg had raved about the place, both so excited over the mining claims they had bought and their plans for the property. “If this works out, we’re thinking of moving to Eagle Mountain,” Angela had said at dinner the night before their trip.
“You should come with us,” Greg said as he passed Maya a bowl of steamed broccoli. “You could get a teaching job there, I bet.”
“You really want to live in a small town?” Maya was incredulous. “Why?” Small towns, by definition, were small, which to her meant limited opportunities, limited entertainment options and maybe even limited thinking. “You have everything you could ever want here in Denver.”
“Eagle Mountain is the perfect place to raise kids,” Angela said. “If we’re going to relocate, now’s a good time, before Casey has really settled into school.”
Maya wasn’t so sure about that. Wouldn’t kids get bored way out here in the middle of so much nature? Everywhere she looked she saw endless fields, soaring mountains, colorful rocks, rushing streams and vast blue sky—but not many people or buildings. What did people out here do for excitement and entertainment?
How was a five-year-old girl going to survive alone out in all this emptiness?
By the time she turned onto Eagle Mountain’s main street, she was exhausted from grief and strain, her stomach in knots with worry over Casey, and in no mood to deal with any slow-talking, easygoing backwater cop, which was the only kind she expected to encounter here. After all, if a man had any real talent and ambition, wouldn’t he opt to go someplace with a little more action?
The first person to acknowledge her when she walked through the door of the Rayford County Sheriff’s Department was a white-haired woman who wore purple-framed glasses and earrings shaped like pink flamingos. “May I help you?” she asked, eyes sharp, expression all business.
“My name is Maya Renfro. I’m looking for a Deputy Walker.”
Any hardness melted from the woman’s face. She jumped up and moved toward Maya, hand extended. “You’re the sister. We’ve been expecting you. I’m so sorry for your loss. Such a tragedy.” She ushered Maya to a small office down a short hallway. “You must be worn out. Everyone is out looking for your niece, but I’ll call and let Gage know you’re here. I’m Adelaide, by the way. I’ll get you some tea. Or would you rather have coffee?”
“I just want to speak to Deputy Walker.”
“Of course. I’ll get him here as soon as I can.”
Then Maya was alone in the office, a claustrophobic cube of a room with barely enough space for a desk and one visitor’s chair. She sat and studied the walls, which were filled with several framed commendations and half a dozen photographs, all featuring a tall, good-looking man with thick brown hair and the weathered face of an outdoorsman. In one picture, he knelt beside a mountain stream, cradling a colorful fish and grinning at the camera. In another, he supported the head of a trophy elk, golden aspens in the background. In a third photograph, he posed with another officer, both of them in uniform and holding rifles.
“That’s Gage and his brother, Travis.” Adelaide spoke from behind Maya. She set a cup on the edge of the desk. “I brought you some tea,” she said. “I know you said you didn’t want anything, but after such a long drive, you look like you could use something.”
“Tea is fine.” Maya picked up the cup and sat stiffly upright in the chair. “So Gage and Travis are both law enforcement officers?”
“Travis is the county sheriff,” Adelaide said. “He’s out with the others. We’re all just sick about this. Things like this just don’t happen in Eagle Mountain.”
“They happen everywhere, Addie. You know that. We’re not special.”
The man who moved into the r
oom past Addie was tall and rangy, his khaki uniform streaked with dirt, his face creased with exhaustion. “Gage Walker,” he said, extending his hand to Maya. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to meet you.”
“I told her you were out looking for her niece,” Adelaide said.
“We’ve got everybody in the county with any kind of experience in the woods out there looking for her,” Gage said. The chair behind the desk creaked under his weight as he settled into it, and the office seemed more claustrophobic than ever with his oversized, very masculine presence. Adelaide returned to the front office, leaving them alone.
Gage didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes fixed on Maya, his expression unreadable. “Why are you looking at me that way?” she asked, setting the teacup on the desk.
He shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. “You said you’re a teacher?”
“Yes. I teach high school English at Centennial High School.”
Gage shook his head again. “None of my teachers ever looked like you.”
She stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, for one thing, none of them had blue hair.”
She touched the ends of her hair, which she had dip-dyed blue only two weeks before. “I made a deal with my students. If they brought up their achievement test scores, I would dye my hair blue.”
“Just not what I expected.”
He wasn’t what she had expected, either. He wasn’t slow and dumb, but he definitely looked right at home in this rugged country.
“What happened to my sister?” she asked.
“We’re still trying to get a complete picture, but it looks like your sister and her husband were in their camp when someone—probably more than one person—came up, tied their hands behind their backs and shot them.”
The picture his words created in her mind was almost too horrible to bear. She forced the image away and bit the inside of her cheek to stave off tears. She couldn’t break down now. She had to be strong. “They just shot them?”
“I’m sorry, yes.”
“Why? And what happened to Casey?”
“We’re trying to find the answers to both those questions. It’s possible whoever shot your sister and brother-in-law took Casey with them. But it’s also possible she ran away.” He leaned toward her. “Tell me about your niece. Is she a shy child—the type who would hide from strangers?”
“Casey isn’t really shy, no. But if she saw someone hurt her mother and father, of course she’d be afraid. And having a bunch of people she didn’t know stomping around the woods looking for her would probably frighten her even more.” She had a clear picture of the little girl, hiding behind a big rock or tree, watching all the commotion around her and too afraid to come out. “I want to go look for her. She knows me. She won’t hide from me.”
He nodded. “That makes sense. I’ll take you up to the camp, but I can’t allow you to go wandering around in the woods on your own. The terrain is rough and it’s getting dark. Even the trained searchers will have to pack it in soon and wait until morning.”
“Maybe she’s close to the camp and she’ll see me and come to me.” Maya stood. “Let’s go now. I don’t want to waste another minute.”
Gage rose also and motioned toward the door. “After you. My cruiser is parked out front.”
The black-and-white SUV sported the requisite light bar on top and the legend, Rayford County Sheriff’s Department, on the door. Gage walked around and opened the passenger door, then leaned in and scooped an armful of papers, file folders, gloves, a flashlight and who knew what else off the front seat. “Welcome to my mobile office,” he said, holding the door wide for her.
She climbed in, studying the tablet computer mounted to face the driver, the radio and the shotgun in a holder beside her seat. Gage buckled his seat belt and started the engine. “You said your sister and her husband had just bought the property they were camping on?” he asked as he pulled out into the street.
“Yes. They closed on the purchase last week and wanted to spend some time up there, enjoying the scenery.” She choked on the last word. Angela wouldn’t be enjoying anything anymore.
“So they bought the property to have a place to camp? Or did they plan to build a house up there?”
“Not a house, no. They bought up a bunch of old mining claims, with plans to reopen the mines.”
“Interesting choice.” He turned onto the highway, leaving the town behind. “Most of those old mines haven’t been worked in fifty or sixty years or more. Even then, most of them never earned much. Though I guess some people do still dig around in them as a hobby.”
“This wasn’t a hobby. Greg is—was—an engineer. He’s developed new techniques he thinks will make those old mines profitable again. He wanted to do a demonstration project here, and use that to sell his equipment to others.”
“That sounds like it could end up being pretty lucrative,” Gage said. “Did he have competitors? Anyone who might have killed him to get his ideas or to stop him from implementing them?”
“No! That’s crazy. He doesn’t know people like that. And he had patents on all the equipment he had designed. People don’t kill other people over things like that. If they wanted his ideas, they could have bought him out—or tried to.”
“So he never mentioned having been threatened by anyone?” Gage asked.
“No. And Angela would have told me if he had. She wasn’t one to hide her emotions from me. And if either one of them had thought they were in any danger at all, they never would have brought Casey up here.”
“Can you think of any reason someone would have killed them?” Gage asked. “Something in their pasts, maybe?”
“No.” She shook her head, fresh tears flowing in spite of her efforts to hold them back. “They were quiet, ordinary people.” She blotted the tears with her fingers and angled toward him. “Maybe they stumbled on drug activity—a meth lab or something like that—and were murdered because of it.”
“It’s possible,” Gage said. “And we’ll look into it. But most of the meth labs have moved to Mexico these days.” He slowed as they approached a bank of lights—headlights, work lights, even flashlights bobbed about in the woods on either side of the road.
“This is where they were killed?” Maya asked, staring at the confusion of lights and people—and lots and lots of trees and rocks and dirt. This was the place Angela had gushed about as being so beautiful?
“Yes.” Gage shut off the engine. “Stay with me,” he said. “If you go wandering off around here, you could end up falling down an abandoned mine shaft or stepping off a cliff.”
“Those things could have happened to Casey,” she said, climbing out of the SUV and following him down the side of the road.
“Hey, Gage.”
“Hi, Gage.”
“Thought you’d packed it in for the night?”
Various people greeted the deputy as they passed. An older man with a crooked nose and bushy eyebrows approached. “Deputy Walker, what are you doing about the press?” he asked.
“I’m not really concerned about the press right now, Larry,” Gage said. He turned to Maya. “Maya Renfro, this is Eagle Mountain’s mayor, Larry Rowe.”
“Ms. Renfro.” The mayor nodded solemnly. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” He turned to Gage. “Now, about the press. Something like this could reflect very badly on the town if it isn’t handled properly.”
“Not now, mayor.” Gage pushed past him, only to be waylaid a few yards farther on by a petite woman with a large red hound on a leash. “Did you get anything?” Gage asked her.
“I’m sorry, no.” The woman stopped and leaned down to pat the dog. “Daisy picked up the scent from the shirt you gave me, but after about a hundred yards, she lost it. I marked the path for you. And we can try again tomorrow if you like. Right now, Daisy is just ti
red and frustrated.”
Daisy stared up at them with mournful brown eyes, then let out a low moan and scratched at one floppy ear with her hind foot.
“Thanks for trying, Lorna,” Gage said. He patted Daisy. “Give her a biscuit from me.”
Maya spotted Greg and Angela’s SUV and faltered. The vehicle was surrounded by a cordon of yellow-and-black tape, and more tape marked a path from the vehicle into the woods. “Is that your sister and her husband’s car?” Gage asked.
“Yes.”
He took her arm. “Come on. I’m going to take you into their camp, ask you to identify some things. Their bodies have already been taken away. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.” They were just things. She wouldn’t think about them in relation to death.
“Step where I step,” Gage said. “Don’t get off the path or touch anything.” He led the way through a section of tape.
“That’s their tent,” she said as they approached the blue dome tent. “They bought it a couple of years ago, to replace an old one our parents gave them.”
“All right.” Gage led her to the tent and pulled back the flap. “Take a look inside and tell me if you see anything unusual—anything that doesn’t belong to your sister, her husband or Casey.”
He swept the beam of the flashlight over the contents of the tent—sleeping bags, backpack, clothing, Angela’s purse. Maya covered her mouth with her hand when she spotted the purse and shook her head, swallowing hard against the sob that threatened to escape.
Gage dropped the tent flap and straightened, playing the beam of the light around and behind the tent. Pink tape fluttered from a slender metal stake behind the tent. “This is where Lorna and her dog picked up the scent,” he said, guiding Maya over to the stake. “Don’t walk in the path, but walk beside it. Call your niece. If she’s near enough, she might recognize your voice and come to you.”
Maya stared at him, still numb. “Calling her isn’t going to help,” she said. “We have to look for her.”
