Page 12

Chapter Twelve

brYNN

R alph and I arrive at the trailhead to wait for the crew.

“Hey, do you know if there are bathrooms up here?” I ask, opening my car door and getting out.

He follows, stretching. “I sure hope to hell there are or you’re going to finally see me pissing in the woods.”

It’s been a running joke all week. I can’t think of a man more ill-equipped to do the HRT. He doesn’t even like to relieve himself in nature.

I shake my head. “That could bring civilization to an end,” I joke as we walk up the trailhead together until we see the big sign with a map from the forest service and a couple of port-a-potties.

Thankfully, they’re not too gross, although a few wasps are hanging out in the one I use, making my adrenaline rise. Done before Ralph, I peruse the map and local history panels on the park service sign. My eyes fall to the hiker sign-in sheet, flipping back through the pages. I don’t see the crew’s log entry, which isn’t like them.

“What’s wrong?” Ralph asks tensely, emerging from the bathroom.

“I don’t see Steve or Tucker’s entry in the book. They would never be so careless. Neither would Raven or Lydia.”

“Huh,” he says with a frown, running his finger over the entries for the day. “You’re right. They wouldn’t be. I hope I got the trailhead right. Let’s walk up a little ways to ask descending hikers if they saw anyone matching their description.”

The hairs stand up on the back of my neck, and I inhale sharply. Side-eyeing Ralph, foreboding fills me momentarily. He smiles broadly, that goofy expression that has disarmed me and the rest of the crew all week. It doesn’t work this time, though.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

I shrug, struggling to put my feelings into words. “Everything feels spooky since learning of the hikers’ murder. Don’t you think?”

He shivers by way of response before pointing at a group of hikers up the trail a little way. They have two black labs making plenty of noise. “Let’s ask them.”

We walk up to meet them, learning they can’t help. But they send us up the trail a little further, where another party is coming down. A strange uneasiness grips me. I don’t know why, so I stop to snap photos, discreetly texting them to Beau. I can’t explain why.

The next party can’t help, either.

I conclude, “This is a wild goose chase, and it’s starting to get dark.”

“But we can’t leave the crew out here alone,” Ralph counters.

I turn my back toward him, approaching a game trail I spy to the left of the main hiking route. Did they take this by accident? I can’t imagine. “I’m not convinced they’re out here at all,” I reply, an uncharacteristic finality in my voice.

* * *

BEAU

I drive around the Paradise Inn, my stomach freefalling when I don’t see Brynn’s car. I head inside to the counter. “Denise, is Emily around? I need to collect on that favor she owes me.”

“Beau, I’m so glad your’e here. What’s going on with the murdered hikers? Everyone feels on edge here. It’s unbearable.”

“I can’t comment.”

“I just saw the CLEAR Alert come over the news about Ralph Jenkins as a person of interest. You know, he’s been staying here all week. And the redhead with the white 4Runner? God, I hope she’s okay.”

My heart races, my pulse pounding so loudly in my temples, I barely hear my own voice as I ask, “What about a white 4Runner and a redhead?”

Denise lowers her voice to a whisper. “Apparently, Ralph was last seen getting into her car, which isn’t surprising because they’re friends. I mean, do you think Ralph would possibly hurt her? He seems so harmless.”

“Ted Bundy seemed harmless, too,” I counter, turning on my heels to leave.

“Wait! Don’t you want me to speak to Emily?”

“That can wait. Goodbye.”

I run to my truck, jumping in, backing out, and dialing Will on my hands-free device.

He answers in half a ring. “Forester, have you heard the latest?”

“What I could get through the small-town grapevine. But fill me in on what’s going on.”

“Four hikers came in mid-morning, scared out of their minds. Swore up and down their acquaintance, Ralph Wade, bragged about murdering two missing hikers after getting drunk last night. Even showed them the fingernail scratches on his back. No one knows about fingernail scratches except for our investigators and the coroner. And he also acknowledged knowing the hikers were buried alive. We haven’t even released the official autopsy report yet, and those details were redacted for investigative purposes.”

Buried alive? Bile rises in my throat, and urgency tightens my muscles. “Why didn’t the hikers report this last night?”

“They had to sober up … nurse hangovers and eventually remember the conversation.”

“Goddammit!” I curse under my breath. “And Brynn didn’t know any of this when she picked him up?”

“No. So, you’re familiar with Ms. Lovelace?”

“Yes. Tell me about the CLEAR Alert.” I drive as he talks, getting a rundown on her last whereabouts with Wade. The buffoon of a hiker seemed downright goofy and inept. Talk about the perfect cover.

“Motherfucker,” I curse, my mind spinning with next steps.

“What’s wrong, Forester?”

“Brynn Lovelace is my girl.”

“Your girl? I didn’t know you did relationships.”

I grumble, “Yeah, neither did I until the first time I saw her face. Fuck, I have to find her.”

“I’ll keep you posted on everything we hear. But your best bet is to start at the Silver Ridge Trailhead, where a few people saw them together late in the afternoon.”

“Thank you. By the way, I’m sending you contact information for Logan Caples and Jess Steele. They had dealings with Craven in Gold County on the night of his death. You should speak with them. They may have additional information that could help with the case.”

“Will do. What are you contemplating, Forester?”

“Hunting.”

As I jump out of my truck at the Silver Ridge Trailhead, grabbing my backpack and slinging my recurve hunting bow over my shoulder, I raise up a silent prayer. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to find Brynn and make the copycat murderer wish he’d never been born. I just hope I’m not too late.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates. Pulling it out, I open a text from an unknown number. I notice the same area code as Henry Lovelace, Northern Idaho, staring at images of the forest and brush. Realization slams into me.

Brynn is sending me breadcrumbs, and despite the randomness of the spot, I’d recognize it anywhere. She’s a half mile up Silver Ridge Trail, where the main route forks off into a game trail.

The wildlife trail is used by hunters in the fall, and if she takes it, she’ll lose her cell signal completely. If I were a copycat serial killer, looking for the isolation to offend again, it’d be the perfect location to lead a victim.

My stomach roils. I can’t spare a moment as I sprint into the woods at top speed. I can’t let anything happen to Brynn, no matter what it takes.