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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

On the drive home from the country club, Keller’s mind churns. Maybe they’ll get lucky with the geofence data from the warrant, but that’s still going to take a little time. Results tomorrow at the earliest.

Until then, what are they missing? The kids’ phones all last pinged at Rancho San Antonio. It’s crazy not a single CCTV camera caught the van. She wonders if the video forensics team missed something, an camera at a gas station or Ring doorbell or ATM camera. She checks the time on the dash. It’s six o’clock.

What the hell. A second set of eyes can’t hurt. She resets the GPS and follows it down the 280 to the park. Her mind continues to whirl as she drives, trying to make sense of the mess of dead ends. Finally, she takes the exit. The park is five minutes out. She’s not paying any attention to the dot on the GPS now. Instead, she’s studying the landscape. For any businesses, any homes, that might have cameras.

She tugs up a service road and through a narrow lane with trees on either side. Could any hunters have set up some cameras they use to track game? Unlikely. Hunting wouldn’t be allowed in the conservation area. How about campers or people who put dashcams on their vehicles? Needle in a haystack. And it’s likely someone would’ve already come forward, given the growing media attention on the case.

She pulls into Rancho San Antonio. A smattering of cars and trucks and campers fill the parking lot. A few hikers are making it back to their vehicles. In the distance, figures stride up the hill, probably for a view of the sunset. There are signs identifying the various hiking paths and landmarks. But none of them appears to have a trail camera.

She considers getting out of her car, taking one of the paths. But it’s a waste of time. McCray’s team has canvassed the area. And she needs some family time, dinner with Bob and the kids, to recharge. She circles the lot, then makes her way out.

She accelerates on the desolate road, speeding well past the limit. Her thoughts return again to the weirdness of this case: five missing college students. She could understand one. Even two. But five? What is she missing?

She spies a large warehouse looming in the distance. It’s too far, she thinks, to have any cameras capture vehicles traversing this road. She wonders what type of facility it is. Storage perhaps. Maybe an Amazon warehouse filled with products. That seems to be confirmed when she sees a line of semitrucks heading out of the facility. Maybe they’re on a schedule.

She taps the brakes.

If so, maybe one of the truckers saw something? Saw the Mystery Machine.

Unlikely.

But something makes her yank the wheel to the left, turning onto the service road leading to the warehouse.