Page 67 of Long Pig

“Alright,” he said, leaning forward. “What’ve we got?”

Russel turned the file around. Inside were grainy print photos of an old crime scene along with the crisp white pages of a modern DNA analysis report. “It matches DNA from a cold case over twenty years old,” he said. “A woman killed at a rest stop off Interstate 10 near Blythe, California.”

Dale frowned. “There’s nothing out there. Just dirt, trucks, and locals.”

“Exactly,” Russel said. “Highway patrol caught the call. Victim was found behind the rest-stop bathrooms, strangled and dumped in a shallow ditch. Estimated time of death: three days prior to discovery.”

Russel lifted the autopsy report and flipped through the summary. “Name was Cindy Mills. She was thirty-four. Toxicology came back positive for heroin and alcohol.”

Dale scanned the black-and-white photo stapled to the top corner. Long stringy hair. Eyes lifeless and half open. He’d seen too many like her.

Russel continued. “Cold case team reopened it five years ago. They found two distinct DNA profiles on the victim’s body. One belonged to her ex-boyfriend, Ray Felt. He was cleared with a solid alibi from his employer and his side piece.”

“Still,” Dale said, “if he was violent—”

“He was,” Russel agreed. “Couple domestic calls, one assault charge that never stuck. But for this? He was working double shifts at a gas station, and his girlfriend at the time confirmed he was with her every night after Cindy split.”

Russel tapped the second DNA report. “The other profile never matched anyone, until now.”

Dale’s gaze lifted slowly. “You’re saying the guy who strangled Cindy Mills, he’s the one who has Willow?”

Russel nodded grimly. “That’s what it looks like.”

Silence thickened between them.

Russel flipped another page. “As the report shows, the blood at the scene matched Deputy Wallard. It wasn’t enough for us to call it fatal.”

“So, he could still be alive,” Dale said.

“Could be,” Russel replied, though his tone said he didn’t believe it. “Willow’s odds are better. But Dale,” He hesitated, his eyes on the file. “This guy’s killed before. Maybe more than once.”

Dale leaned back, his jaw tight. “You think it was a crime of opportunity?”

Russel exhaled through his nose. “Hard to say. Could be he saw her and decided right then. Could be he’d been watching her. I’ve got about five scenarios in my head, and maybe it’s none of them.”

He grabbed a legal pad, scribbled a few notes. “We’re running the DNA through CODIS and ViCAP, just in case the DNA pops on other interstate cases. I’ve already got a request into California DOJ for their original case file.”

Dale nodded. “We should cross-reference any missing women along I-10 and I-40 for similar signatures: ligature strangulation, dump sites near travel corridors, transient or isolated victims.”

“Already on it,” Russel said, “and I’ve got a behavioral analyst out of Flagstaff reviewing the profile. If this guy’s pattern held for twenty years, he’s either gone dormant or gotten better at hiding the bodies.”

Dale rubbed his temples. “And now he’s got Willow.”

“Yeah, that’s what it looks like.”

The room fell silent again.

Dale’s eyes hardened. “There’s no time to wait for those records. We need to find him before he decides she’s another Cindy Mills.”

“We don’t have much to go on but I’m working this case hard,” Russel told him.

The following day, Dale did basic cleanup around the house. It had been a week, and his food cans and trash held a stale odor. He swept the floor and cleaned off the counters. Max and Daisy lay quietly on one dog bed, which they both barely fit on. Max had been crowding Daisy since Willow disappeared and didn’t let the other dog out of his sight.

Dale practically jumped out of his shorts when Max lifted his head, and a sound rose from deep within his chest. The howl began low, trembling through the air. It gathered strength as it climbed to a higher pitch. The heavy, almost human sorrow went through Dale’s bones until it fell away. Max scratched the door frantically.

The howl still hung in the air when Dale tore open the front door. For a heartbeat, he truly believed she’d be standing outside.

But there was only emptiness.