Page 26 of Her Final Hours (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #3)
I nvestigations were a rigorous process akin to running a marathon.
Combined with a slew of cold cases that spanned decades, it was enough to make even the most resilient throw in the towel.
Wading through files, revisiting sites, interviewing and following up with persons of interest was a must, even if it offered no reward.
The devil was in the details, and in the thick of a case; all manner of things could go awry.
After making little progress that morning with Eduardo, who had buttoned up tight, refusing to speak without a lawyer, Noah stepped back to see where Jane Doe had been found.
Although statements had been taken from Don Hammond and Frank Rodriguez by county, Noah felt that visiting the area where they found the girl was in order.
The railway was more than accommodating but offered a short window of opportunity to ride out to the spot as, in daytime hours, Amtrak trains were running.
Seeing Callie’s keen eye for details, Noah had handed over the responsibility of fishing through the boxes provided by Helen Peterson until they could meet up to interview Lucas Blackwood, the camp counselor.
That way, they could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, until McKenzie came back on shift.
“Meet me where Stevenson Road intersects with the track, south of Westport,” Don had said an hour earlier.
As Noah sat in his idling Bronco, engrossed in checking his phone and waiting for him to arrive, his attention was abruptly drawn to a specific vehicle that came into view.
A white hi-rail truck.
Its dual-mode capability was evident as it effortlessly transitioned from the road onto the railroad tracks.
The truck’s sleek design exuded a sense of purpose with its sturdy frame and rail wheels that hugged the track securely.
Noah climbed out, ensuring he locked his door before making his way over to it.
The vehicle featured specialized rail wheels mounted on the front and rear axles, allowing it to easily traverse the tracks.
Its compact size and truck-style body made it versatile for workers looking to navigate the railroads and intersections efficiently.
Noah leaned on the window frame with a friendly smile, addressing Don. “Mr. Hammond?” he inquired, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation. Hammond nodded.
“That’ll be me. Jump in,” he said, gesturing toward the passenger side.
As Noah climbed inside, he couldn’t help but be intrigued by the seamless blend of automotive engineering and rail functionality. The interior was clean and well-maintained, with a combination of modern tech and controls within easy reach of the driver’s seat. The vehicle hummed with quiet power .
“Never been in one of these before,” Noah remarked, expressing his fascination. That was one of the perks of his job; it allowed him to immerse himself into so many worlds, even if it was in pursuit of shining light on the darkest regions of society.
Don chuckled; his eyes focused on the tracks ahead.
“First time for everything,” he replied, radiating a calm and professional demeanor.
With that, the wheels seamlessly aligned with the tracks; they glided forward with a jolt.
Noah could feel the subtle change in the vehicle’s dynamics as it adjusted to the terrain.
The rhythmic sound of the rail wheels reverberated through the cabin, creating a steady and comforting hum.
“I appreciate you meeting me at such short notice,” Noah said, breaking the silence as they moved along the tracks. He leaned back in his seat, observing the passing scenery, curious about the moments leading up to the girl’s discovery.
Don ran a hand over his brow, the weight of the situation clear in his expression. “Anything I can do to help,” he replied earnestly. “I have grandchildren her age. How is she doing?” Don’s concern for the victim was palpable; his voice filled with empathy.
Noah’s gaze hardened, reflecting the gravity of the situation. “It’s still touch and go. Trauma, you know,” he replied, his tone tinged with determination and sadness. “But we have some of the best working with her.”
Don shook his head in disbelief, his voice carrying a sense of astonishment.
“In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like that.
Sure, we’ve had people commit suicide on the tracks; even a few bums who are drunk wander onto the tracks, but nothing like that.
” The weight of the incident hung heavily.
Noah absorbed his words and their implications. His mind raced with questions and possibilities as he continued to piece together the puzzling case. The passing forest on either side mirrored the suffocating mystery that had enveloped them .
“So, she wasn’t found that far from here?” Noah asked, his gaze shifting to the dense woodland that lined the tracks on either side. He wondered if it held any answers.
Don’s eyes scanned ahead. “About a mile up. Nothing around here, though, for miles. Just forest,” he replied. “That’s what struck me as odd.”
Noah’s curiosity was piqued as he considered the remote location and its role in her being found.
It was rural, and though homes could be seen across some of the open fields, they were mainly spread out until they reached Westport.
“So, you never saw her step onto the track?” he inquired, hoping to gather more information that hadn’t been collected.
“Oh no, she was already on it,” he explained.
“Had it been an Amtrak train, she would have been dead. I figure she came down from Westport Railway Station. It’s several miles north of here.
But then when I saw her… yeah, something about it didn’t add up.
Covered in blood, barely clothed. She had this deer-in-the-headlights look. You know, like no one was home.”
Noah’s mind raced. The unusual state in which the girl was found had raised numerous questions and theories, none of which they could substantiate, barring the blood that matched the deceased.
Noah nodded, acknowledging his observation.
“Her body was flooded with a drug that affects what she can remember,” he replied, hinting at a deeper layer of complexity to the case.
Don’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he cast a glance sideways. “You think she did that to herself? I mean, kids today are taking all manner of drugs, and who knows — maybe she bought some bad stuff,” he speculated.
Noah had considered it. “I think it’s all bad,” he replied cryptically, aware of the dark undercurrents that plagued the county. “You know what I mean.”
Don’s gaze returned to the tracks. A few more minutes, and then he pointed ahead, breaking the momentary silence. “Right up here at mile marker 23,” he said before glancing at his watch. “We don’t have a lot of time; ten minutes max. Better make it quick.”
He slowed the truck. The surroundings felt even more remote, the dense forest closing in on both sides. His anticipation of finding something grew, his focus sharpening as they neared the spot where she was found.
The truck came to a stop with a jolt. Noah hopped out, carrying a bag containing a drone. Don followed in his shadow, relaying what he said to the girl when they approached her.
“I’d say it was about here,” Don murmured, his eyes scanning the surroundings to be sure. “It was evening, so I can’t be entirely sure, but it was close to the marker.” The silence was broken only by the wind and the distant chirping of birds.
“Sure, it’s remote,” Noah commented. The isolation of the location struck a chord with both men. Noah knew that finding tangible evidence in such an environment would be challenging. It was time to rely on the tools at his disposal.
Noah dropped the bag to the ground and pulled out the drone with practiced efficiency. The sleek, state-of-the-art device gleamed in the sunlight. Its propellers whirred to life as Noah powered it up, preparing it for flight.
“Fancy equipment,” Don muttered, his eyes widening with intrigue. He watched Noah expertly maneuver the drone, adjusting its height and angle.
“Yeah, beats using an expensive chopper,” Noah replied.
The drone rose higher and higher, ascending above the towering treetops.
It provided a unique vantage point, allowing Noah to survey the area and capture up-to-date aerial footage that human eyes might overlook. All of it could be reviewed later.
Noah controlled the drone’s movements with a focused expression, carefully examining the terrain below. He scanned the forest, searching for any signs, any clues that could provide insight into what had transpired.
But it was just a blanket of green for as far as the drone could see.
He ran it up the rail for a good mile before returning it. After capturing the valuable footage, he brought it back to the ground, carefully landing it and shutting it down. With purpose, he focused on the area beneath his feet.
“Five minutes, detective.”
“You got it,” Noah said.
Crouched, he meticulously surveyed the ground, his gaze shifting from the tracks to the area between. He searched for any traces, any sign of blood, or markings that could indicate a possible path taken by the victim.
As Don watched intently, curiosity etched on his face, he piped up, “So, you think she’s one of the missing?”
Noah paused, his eyes meeting Don’s. “Huh?” He was caught off guard by the unexpected question.
Don clarified, filling in the blank before Noah could retrieve the name from memory.
“Well, it’s just that we’ve had our fair share of girls going missing in the county.
After what happened, I searched online. I figured I might be able to put a face to a name or vice versa.
I didn’t realize so many girls have gone missing from New York state. ”
Noah’s mind connected the dots, his thoughts turning to the cases that stretched far back.
“Possibly,” he said. Convinced there wasn’t much to be found, he collected his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder.
“Every state has them,” he said, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation but also determination that the outcome would be different this time.
As they returned to the hi-rail truck, Noah chewed over the possibilities.
The puzzle was far from complete, and the pieces seemed scattered across a broader canvas than he anticipated.
Murder cases tended to be a simple matter of connecting the dots with family, friends, and co-workers.
But a girl appearing out of nowhere, with no memory, presented a far more formidable challenge.
“You mentioned you were with another guy,” Noah said, sitting in the hi-rail truck as Don started the engine.
“Frank Rodriguez. He’s a freight conductor. I was giving him a ride back. We’re not supposed to do it, but it happens.”
Noah nodded, understanding the camaraderie that existed among colleagues in challenging circumstances. “You do that often?” he asked, his curiosity piqued by their solidarity.
Don shrugged. “Time to time. We help each other out,” he replied, a touch of pride evident in his voice.
Their conversation trailed off as the familiar sight of Noah’s Bronco came into view. Don glided off the track, wheels rolling forward. Noah got out, bag in hand.
“I appreciate your assistance, Don.”
Don shook his hand. “Anything to help,” he replied sincerely. “I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”
As he turned to walk away, he glanced back.
“By the way. How was he? Your friend after he saw her?”
“Freaked out. Much like myself.”
With a final exchange of gratitude, Noah watched Don drive off, disappearing into the distance.
As he climbed back into the Bronco and started the engine, Noah picked up the statement the two men had given and scanned it again.
Working off a hunch, he phoned the railroad to enquire about one thing that hadn’t been checked — the men’s schedules.
Although they had found the girl and alerted the authorities, and nothing about Don struck him as someone trying to hide or cover up any misdoing, he wanted to verify their alibis with someone above them.
He was put on hold .
A moment later, a supervisor came on the line. “This is Darleen Fisher. How can I help?”
He gave her his credentials.
“Just following up on the incident that occurred on Sunday. Can you confirm the schedules of two of your workers?”
“It will take me a minute.”
It didn’t take longer than five minutes for her to come back with that information. Don Hammond checked out; his friend, on the other hand, had lied.