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“Wedding ring or other jewelry?”

“Didn’t really notice.”

“Okay. Smell like he’d been drinking?”

Tolifson said, “Debi, give the man a break. Just get the word out. Big guy with a beard. Nobody’s going to be sniffing any suspect’s breath.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Well…Was listening to a podcast. True crime. Detective in L.A. solved a murder because he smelled whisky on the suspect’s breath and on the victim’s too. Meant they’d beendrinking together even when the killer had an alibi. He’s in jail for life; the fake alibi-er is doing fifteen.”

Colter added, “Funny thing about that. His aftershave. Expensive. Even though he looked like a mountain man.”

“Now, that’s worth jotting. Anything else you can remember?”

“After I suggested he get down on the ground—”

Starr laughed.

“I searched him. Money, but no ID. No car keys. Nothing.”

Tolifson considered this, and came to no conclusion.

But the younger officer was nodding, taking this information in. “That was on a podcast too. Pros sometimes leave all their identifying stuff at home when they get an assignment to kill somebody…Maybe he was on the lam. Hiding out here. Hm.”

Tolifson was shaking his head. “Come on, Debi.”

“Stranger things’ve happened. Can’t think of any at the moment but they must have.”

Ed Gutiérrez said he was going to continue the evac operation and returned to his SUV. Dorion said she would join him, but Colter received an email and saw the sender. He told his sister to hold on a minute.

The note was from his lawyer Tony, who was reading through all the material Colter had dropped off as he sped to Hinowah.

Someone—bless them—had brought a Keurig coffee machine. He nodded toward it with a querying glance. “Let’s take five.”

“Sure.”

He and his sister each made a cup and, at Colter’s suggestion, stepped to the end of the third tent, the one at the bottom of the downward slope of the hill. Maybe Tolifson and Starr were expecting a horde of responders from the county and state; as it turned out, the first tent was sufficient. This and the one in the middle were empty except for a few chairs. “Something I need to tell you.”

Dorion eyed him closely and remained silent.

“I heard from one of Ashton’s associates.”

“The university in Berkeley?”

“Yes. He told me a woman had contacted the school, looking for the Compound. First name Margaret.”

“She knew about the place?” Dorion frowned, concern growing on her face. Its existence was a carefully guarded secret.

“She didn’t leave her number.”

“There’s something about the way this story’s unraveling, Colt. What’s the punch line?”

“She’s his daughter.”

Dorion was still for a moment. “All right.”

He explained that when he’d learned about the mysterious woman, he’d gone right to Ashton’s study and began his search, unearthing the document about getting the girl into a grade school. “He had an affair with a woman not long after we moved to the Compound. She had a baby by him. I checked the dates. She’s roughly your age.”

Three years separated the younger siblings. Russell was six years older than Colter.