Page 17 of Vanish From Sight (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #2)

E very investigation was full of secrets and lies, the truth lay somewhere between.

It wasn’t so much a matter of retracing her steps on the night she went missing as it was understanding the victim. In doing so they might learn what happened. Noah was acutely aware that he was probably only hearing half the story and parts were being purposely left out. The question was why?

Finding the women’s shelter wasn’t easy.

Katherine never told her husband where it was, only the name. There was good reasoning behind that, in the event that she might need to go there again. Most emergency shelters for women coming out of an abusive relationship operated that way.

It was for safety reasons.

The actual residence was only made known once a person had been carefully vetted. They didn’t want an ex-husband or controlling boyfriend to show up unannounced. For it to be an effective safe house, anonymity was crucial.

Still, Noah figured if Katherine had continued to go to work while staying at one, it couldn’t have been too far away. There were only two in the county. A quick conversation with administration at each of them eventually yielded an address.

It was located up in Wilmington, New York, a quiet town twenty minutes northeast of High Peaks. It wasn’t far from one of the State Police Satellite Offices, a location that seemingly had been picked in the event they needed to call for assistance.

The building was set back from the road with a manicured lawn, pristine landscaping and plenty of trees that provided privacy and a sense of calm.

It was an historic, two-story brick building with an additional side building that resembled a small motel.

The residence had a modern aesthetic, offering simple sleeping quarters and living spaces.

Noah was struck by its humble exterior. The faded sign which read “Adirondack’s Safe Haven,” and the brick wall surrounding the property showed signs of wear and tear.

“My sister was in one of these places,” Callie remarked.

“Because of an abusive relationship?”

“Not exactly. She was trying to get her life in order. It was a combination of substance abuse and depression. She felt like she didn’t have anywhere to turn to. Had she reached out to me, I would have put her up.” Callie picked at dust on her pants. “She lives out west now. California.”

Noah stuck the gear into park. “Did it help?”

“Yeah. It gave her a way to rebuild her life, save money and eventually get a place. But unlike what they’ll say, it doesn’t help everyone. Only those who want to help themselves.”

“Isn’t that always the case,” he said, pushing out of the Bronco .

Upon entering the building, they were greeted by the sound of bustling activity as volunteers and staff attended to the needs of the residents. They were directed to a small office in the rear of the main building where they were met by the shelter’s director, Sandy Willis.

“Please,” she said, welcoming them and offering them seats.

The office was small and tidy but functional, with a desk, a computer and several filing cabinets lining the walls.

There were a few posters reminding readers that despite their circumstances, they were strong and capable.

Some showcased self-care tips, including suggestions like going for a walk in nature or taking a bubble bath.

For those in survival mode, it was a welcome reminder to take care of themselves.

Noah eyed one that had a woman standing on a mountaintop, arms outstretched toward the sky, and encouraged having dreams even in the darkest moments.

Sandy noticed him observing them. “We try to instill a sense of hope, empowerment, and encourage the women.”

“Does it work?”

“It depends. Every person has a different story.”

He took a seat.

“So how can I help?”

Noah took out a photo of Katherine and set it in front of her. “Do you recognize her?”

“I never forget a face.” She nodded. “Katherine Evans. Nice woman. She was different from the rest. We get women from all backgrounds but rarely teachers or those who have money.”

“When was the last time she was here?”

Sandy took a deep breath and let it out. “I would have to check my files but I believe it was a good year ago. For about three weeks.”

“And so, she hasn’t been back since?”

“No. Is she dead or missing? ”

“That’s a strange choice of words.”

“Not really. Officer, there are only a few reasons why women don’t return here.

Either they’ve managed to get their life back on track and don’t need us, or they’ve derailed.

If it’s the latter, we usually see them again, not the police.

Those who show up here are looking for safety. I gather she never found it.”

“We believe it was her body pulled from a lake not far from here.”

“Believe?”

“We’re still in the process of getting a positive ID.”

“But you must be confident if you’re here.”

“Somewhat. The condition of her body makes it difficult to know.”

“That was the woman in High Peaks, yes?”

“Yes, well. What can you tell us about why she came here?”

Sandy leaned forward, lacing her fingers together. “The same reason others tend to. They need help, they don’t feel safe, they aren’t mentally capable of dealing with whatever happened or is happening in their life.”

“I understand but did she give specifics?”

“No. Family trouble. Work. She was vague. You have to understand, officer. For many that show up here, they’re embarrassed, humiliated and skeptical about whether anyone will believe them.

We provide a safe place for recovery. For some that’s a few days, others a couple of weeks.

Most usually can find a friend, family member or alternative living situation. This place isn’t a permanent solution.”

“So after she left here a year ago, did she go directly home?”

“I couldn’t tell you for sure. From what I recall, she said she would be going to stay with a friend.”

Noah nodded. “This friend. Would you have a name?”

“Nope. ”

“You would have had to take down personal information, contact numbers, family names and so on, yes?”

“We encourage that but it’s not mandatory.”

“What information did she give you?”

Sandy stared back at him, then turned toward her computer. Her fingers pecked the keyboard, she moved her mouse and clicked a few times. “There was an emergency number she left with us. It was only to be called if she didn’t return on the days she worked.”

“Is it family? A friend? Her husband?”

She shrugged. “Not sure. We don’t phone unless we need to and she left here of her own accord.”

“Could I have the number?”

“That would be breaking our privacy policy.”

Noah tapped the photo of Katherine on her desk. “She’s dead. Right now, we are doing everything we can to find out who did this. You can either make that easy or we can get it another way. I’d just appreciate you not drawing this out.”

Sandy nodded and took a pad of sticky notes and scribbled on one.

Lena was apprehensive about meeting the woman in the grocery parking lot, especially after reading all the horror stories of those who had the misfortune of having their dogs stolen.

However, there was a good chance the seller was legit.

Not everyone wanted people coming to their home, especially if something went wrong with the dog after purchase or the buyers decided they no longer wanted it and figured they could request their money back.

As someone who had sold and bought items on online marketplaces, she knew most sellers and buyers would meet at a local coffee store.

It was public. It lessened the chances of anything weird happening.

On the phone the woman had told her to look for a blue GMC van that would be parked the furthest from the entrance. As Lena swung into the lot, she scanned the area and saw the van with tinted windows.

Lena pulled up her red Mazda and got out, nerves getting the best of her. The woman was sitting in the driver’s seat, holding two small golden retriever puppies. They couldn’t have been more than twenty weeks old.

The driver brought the window down, revealing a sleeve of tattoos, some bright and colorful, others dark and frightening.

From a distance she looked exotic but as Lena got closer, she noticed the woman was a rough looking individual.

Her hair was dull, uncombed, with strands of green like she wasn’t sure if she was a teenager or a grown-up.

She slouched in the driver’s seat, wearing an old off-white cami undershirt that appeared several sizes too small for her.

On top of that she had donned a heavy flannel shirt covered in dogs’ hair that had a tear in the upper breast pocket.

Her face was pockmarked, and crow’s feet pulled at the corners of her eyes from years of hard living.

“You here to see the pups?”

“That’s right,” Lena replied, trying to hide her nervousness.

“We have a large selection to choose from. Once we get the clear by our vet, they’re usually good to be picked up at twelve weeks. These are two older ones.”

Lena’s heart melted as the pups wriggled around on the woman’s lap.

“Um, can you tell me a bit more about their living conditions and health?”

The woman’s expression turned guarded. “They’re all healthy and well cared for. We have a big farm with plenty of space for them to run around. ”

“And the mother and father — any health issues?”

“None.”

It would have been easy to take her word and be overcome by the balls of fur. How many others had been suckered in with no idea of where they came from? Were they born on the farm or stolen from someone’s home?

“Do you get them chipped?”

“That’s something you’ll have to do. We cover the first vet bill. Are you interested?” And there it was, getting down to business. Lena couldn’t shake the feeling there was something off about the situation.

“So, it’s not possible to see the mother and father?”

“It’s too intrusive. Rest assured; they are in good hands. So?”

Lena handed back the bundle of joy to her. It pained her to think that the dogs might have belonged to someone else — perhaps the mother and father were stolen. Or was the business legit? There was no real way of telling.

“As much as I would like to say yes, I need some time to think about it. You think I can get back to you?”

“Sure. I can’t guarantee we’ll have any left. They move pretty fast. You got our number. Don’t take too long.”

As Lena moved back around the van, she reached into her bag and pulled out an Apple AirTag with a magnet on it.

She placed it under the metal bumper and returned to her vehicle.

She got in and waited until the van pulled out of the grocery lot.

She wanted to make sure the coast was clear before she began to follow.

Using her phone, Lena brought up the Find My app and watched as the AirTag signal moved out of Saranac, heading north of the town.

In the back of her mind, she knew that the woman might just be a legitimate dog seller working a side gig for extra cash.

It was becoming all too common. Folks snapping up dogs and trying to cash in by breeding them from home.

It wasn’t her place to discuss the right and wrong of it, as she knew there were many decent folks who were careful not to overbreed dogs and to give them long breaks.

It was the other ones that concerned her.

Lena’s Mazda headed north up Route 86, following the winding road toward Harristown. She glanced at her phone as the van moved along the road. Eventually it slowed and took a hard right and then stopped.

Five minutes later, she closed in on a large farmhouse set back from the road just off Wellsprings Road.

She pulled to the side of the road, feeling a sense of unease.

A sprawling field stretched before her, the long grass swaying gently in the breeze.

Trees hedged in the farm, casting long shadows over the landscape.

Getting out, Lena locked the Mazda and climbed over a country-style fence, navigating her way through dense forest. Leaves crunched below her boots as she got closer.

Nearer to the tree line, she had a good view of the farmhouse and noticed several outbuildings.

They looked neglected with peeling paint and rusted metal roofs.

Lena could hear the sound of barking coming from within.

She dug into her bag, took out her long-lens Canon camera and began snapping shots.

She had to get closer. It was the only way to be sure. She was well aware that she was trespassing. It wouldn’t have been the first time. To nail a story, she had to go outside of the norm, bend the rules. In her mind as long as no one was hurt, she wasn’t harming anyone.

About to duck out, she saw the woman come out of the house and return to her van. She collected the two puppies and carried them into the house. Lena could hear swearing coming from inside .

Not wasting any time, Lena hurried across the field up to one of the outbuildings.

She eased the door open and peered in. There was no one there but from front to back it was filled with cages.

Pups yapped hard, clawing at their cramped quarters, their eyes pleading for help.

Lena began taking photos. She photographed the filthy conditions.

The smell was overpowering.

It stank of animal waste, soil and vegetation.

As she made her way around the property, Lena saw the extent of the operation. There were dozens of malnourished dogs. Each one looked terrified. She snapped a few more photos, capturing every detail.

“We’re meant to get another delivery of dogs this evening,” someone said.

Lena’s eyes widened. She ducked behind a stack of old tires and wood, hidden out of view. Her heart skipped a beat as the door creaked opening and heavy footsteps followed.

“Magnus! How many times do I need to tell you? You have to lock the door.”

“Sorry.”

Peeking through a gap in the tires, she saw a middle-aged man. He had a weathered look from spending long hours outdoors in the sun, wind and rain. He wore overalls, a plaid shirt and a pair of yellowed work boots.

He looked disgusted. He hauled over a large bag of food, cut it wide and poured some into each cage with little regard to the dogs inside.

When he was done, he dropped the bag, then kicked one of the cages.

He mumbled something incoherently then she heard the threat.

“Keep yapping and you won’t see tomorrow. ”

Lena felt a surge of anger, but also a deep sense of fear. She was afraid he might walk to the back of the building and discover her .

Fortunately, he turned and walked out.

With enough photos taken, she filmed the rest on her phone and headed for the door. A quick shove with her shoulder on the door then dread set in.

It was locked.