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Brook disconnected the line, but she might have just been given a valid reason to officially link Hiker’s Haven to Luna Breen’s disappearance. Mauve had come around the counter with a key in her hand, but Brook first had another request that might be crucial to solving what was turning out to be a series of murders.
“Mauve, I know that Helen Beckham stayed here before she was reported missing three years ago.” Brook wouldn’t sugarcoat anything from this point forward. While Mauve was the type of individual who needed reassurances and a bit of handholding, the case took precedent, especially since they could be hours away from connecting the two women. “I need a list of guests who were here during Helen’s stay.”
Mauve lost some color in her face and her fingers tightened around the key in her hand. She didn’t need to be explained the reason for such a request.
“Mauve?” Kirk must have been keeping an eye on Brook and Mauve, because he didn’t hesitate to come to the woman’s side. It wasn’t as if Mauve was in her seventies or eighties. She was a middle-aged woman. Given her reactions this afternoon and the way Kirk’s protective instincts had kicked in, Brook could only assume the woman was sick. Heart issue? Cancer? “Why don’t you sit down for a while? Go back to knitting. I’ll see to it that Agent Sloane has access to the guest room.”
“I’m fine,” Mauve reassured him, going so far as to pat his shoulder. She wasn’t too convincing, and Kirk didn’t seem inclined to leave her. “I just hadn’t thought of Helen in a very long time. I remember her well, because it was the first time that she and her friends had hiked the Smoky Mountains. She wasn’t murdered, though. She’s still missing, so there’s still hope.”
“And Carissa Norman?” Brook asked, going out on a limb. There had been nothing in the woman’s missing persons report that had linked her to Hiker’s Haven. Still, the former sheriff had been the one assigned to the case, which meant that she’d gone missing from this very county. “Carissa went missing five years ago. Do you recall the name?”
From the way that Mauve’s grip had tightened on Kirk’s arm, the investigation had just taken another surprising turn. It was evident that had Luna Breen not been killed, no one ever would have made the connection to the other two missing women.
“Kirk, I think you should call a lawyer,” Mauve whispered as she tried to push him in the direction of the counter. “Don’t say another word.”
“A lawyer?” Brook repeated, needing confirmation that she’d heard Mauve correctly. “Why would you need a lawyer, Mr. Sampson?”
“Kirk, don’t—”
“I did nothing wrong, Mauve. It’s okay,” Kirk said reassuringly as he wrapped an arm around Mauve before addressing Brook. “The night before Carissa Norman went missing, she spent the night with me. I was the last one to see her alive.”
Chapter Ten
Sylvie Deering
October 2023
Friday — 5:29pm
“Weshouldhavestayedovernight,” Sylvie said with a bit of frustration as she reached for the zipper on her jacket. The sun was setting, and the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees in the last hour. They’d reached one of the main trails about ten minutes ago and were walking at a slower clip than when they’d hiked it this morning. “Forensics had no one who could process the scene tonight. It’s a sitting duck.”
“If you do believe that one of the other two women were killed in that cabin, it’s not like the evidence is going anywhere.” Riggs was ahead of her since they were on part of the trail that didn’t allow for two people to walk side by side. “The abandoned structure has been there for decades. Another twelve hours isn’t going to hurt anything.”
“You saw the amount of blood that was spilled in that cabin once I’d sprayed it with luminol. The blood had been contained in the middle, just like it was with Luna Breen.”
“Why clean it up?” Riggs asked, skepticism lacing his tone. “Luna Breen had been dead for days. I don’t understand why your boss thinks the killer would have returned for the body and the cleanup. Was he going to bury her? It’s a little late for remorse, don’t you think?”
“Society tends to think of serial killers as individuals who can’t control themselves,” Sylvie said as she kept her gaze lowered to the ground. The angle in which the sun was still shining over the horizon was casting shadows all around them. “Let’s stop for a minute. I want to get out my flashlight.”
Riggs didn’t argue. He stopped, turned, and began to take off his own backpack. She did the same, and it didn’t take them long to retrieve their flashlights. She took the opportunity to drink some water. She continued their conversation as she hooked the bottle back to a clip on the side of her pack.
“Brook is good at what she does,” Sylvie explained as she rotated both shoulders to loosen up her muscles. “The best, really. She had the best closure rate during her tenure with the Bureau. Still holds that record, too. You can’t argue with the points that she made in her profile this morning. The unsub all but dragged Luna Breen to that cabin, but the lack of disturbance in the rest of the room displays his need for order. She was most likely a random and convenient choice, but something about her caught his attention. Looks? Age? All signs point to that, and Brook knows the answers to our questions can be found with the first victim.”
“What do you mean? Wouldn’t they all be important?”
“To a degree, but the first victim is where the unsub usually makes all the mistakes.” Sylvie grimaced when she thought back to the cabin that they’d just left. “The blood that the luminol emphasized on the floor is very similar to yesterday’s crime scene. If we are dealing with a serial murderer—and it’s certainly looking that way—then I’m going to assume that we just came from the place that Helen Beckham was killed. You saw how concentrated the stain was on the floor, and how the killer tried to erase and destroy all evidence.”
“Do you know how many people go missing in these mountains? Hundreds, and that’s not an exaggeration,” Riggs said solemnly as he picked up his backpack. “The blood that we found could be from an animal. The door was hanging wide open, Deering. For all we know, a coyote was looking for a place to heal.”
“And did this coyote also bring with it cleaning supplies?” Sylvie held up a hand when Riggs would have tried to reason with her that years had passed since then. The blood could have absorbed into the wood, or maybe the large hole in the ceiling had allowed rain to wash it away. Yes, there were a lot of rational explanations as to what could have happened inside that cabin. But considering the facts of what they were dealing with today, the blood left behind almost certainly belonged to Carissa or Helen. “It’s pointless to debate this when we’ll have our answers soon. All I’m saying is that our presence in town could alter the behavior of the unsub. I’ve been involved with many investigations in small towns like this one, and word travels fast.”
“Tell me about it,” Riggs muttered as he waited for her to secure her backpack. Once they were prepared for the rest of their hike back to town, he pressed the button on his flashlight. She did the same, more confident in her ability to walk the trail now that dusk had mostly fallen. “Everyone in town knows everyone else’s business. That’s why I know the killer doesn’t reside in Moonshine Valley.”
“I don’t mean to steer this discussion into another debate, but you work in law enforcement. You know more than anyone that people have secrets. We don’t really know what people are like behind closed doors,” Sylvie theorized, reflecting over the brutality of the crimes that she’d witnessed over the last two years. During her own time with the Bureau, she’d mostly been behind a computer screen. “We only see what they want us to see.”
Riggs was quiet for a time. He’d hinted several times throughout the day that he’d like to get to know her better. He wasn’t her type, but she also couldn’t deny that he brought an underlying sensual tension to the table. She also wasn’t the type of woman who indulged in one-night stands, either.
“And what is it that you don’t want anyone to see, Deering? The fact that you and that kid blurred professional lines?” Riggs was still focused on what was in front of him, but that hadn’t stopped him from waving his hand to ward off her ire. He’d been right to do so, because her flash of anger would have left behind blisters. “I overheard the two of you earlier this morning. Something about your timing being off. I’m not one to judge, because I’ve crossed those lines myself. The woman in question left the area to join the state police, so I don’t see her much anymore. You, on the other hand, have to work side by side with—”
