“Have a look around back?” he asked.
“I also want to look in the bedrooms by the side windows.”
“Sure.”
Around the side of the house, she pushed through a tall thicket of shrubs to a window. She studied the ground but saw no signs of a footprint. Still careful not to step directly in front of the window, she rose up on tiptoes and peered into the window.
“It’s a bedroom.” The bed was unmade, and there was a collection of clothes on the floor. It was messy, but there didn’t appear to be any signs of trouble. It could have been her room after several days of working a case.
They walked around the back toward a small patio. Nevada went first, watching the path closely as they approached the brick deck. He held up his fist, indicating for her to stop.
“What is it?” she asked.
He squatted and studied the imprint of an athletic shoe. “Looks to be about a size ten to twelve.”
Macy stepped around him and tried the back door. “It’s locked.” She peered through the window to see a chrome dinette set covered with craft supplies, including paints, a glue gun, and sparkles. “No signs of trouble. Debbie could have blown off work and gone on a trip.”
“I’ve got basic forensic equipment in the car. I can make a plaster cast of the shoe impression. It might be overkill, but better safe than sorry, especially if the weather turns bad.”
“After you make the cast, let’s head over to the park and see if anything new has developed. I’d also like to track down her roommate, who might have a better idea of what Debbie’s been doing.”
The sun overhead was bright when Macy followed Nevada in her own vehicle to the park where Debbie Roberson’s car had been found. They had opted to take separate cars, knowing the investigation at this stage could take them in different directions.
Neither was sure where this development would lead, or if it were even connected at all to their investigation. But the red rope found in the trunk was a significant warning flag that couldn’t be ignored.
They had at least three hours of daylight remaining today, which would be a big help if a preliminary search of the park’s surrounding woods needed to be conducted.
Nevada’s SUV pulled into the park’s entrance next to a muddied red SUV with a gray magnetic sign on the side reading WILDERNESS EXPERIENCE. The back tailgate was open, and it was loaded with survival gear.
Macy grabbed her FBI windbreaker from the back of her car. On the other side of the lot, Bennett was talking to two young hikers.
By the time Macy crossed the lot, Ellis Carter was out of her vehicle and talking to Nevada. The two appeared to be discussing the trail and Roberson’s vehicle.
Macy walked up and offered her hand to Ellis. “What brings you here?”
“I texted her,” Nevada said. “She works with the search and rescue teams. Whenever we have a lost hiker, Ellis goes out.”
“Are you sure that’s wise, given her connection to the case?” Macy asked.
“She’s the expert. If anyone can be found in those woods, it’s her.”
“And doing something makes me feel less like a victim,” Ellis said.
Macy understood that sentiment all too well. “Nevada, do you really think it’s as simple as Debbie getting lost on a hike?”
Nevada looked at his cousin. “Ellis is the expert on the trail.”
“The last few days have been near perfect and would attract hikers.” Ellis glanced up at the mountains behind them. “That trail starts off easy and can lure you into thinking it’s a piece of cake. She could have gone up it, been fooled, and found herself in trouble.”
“Fall into one of the hollows up there and you won’t get any cell service,” Nevada said. “A hike gone wrong would explain a lot.”
“What’s there to explain?” Ellis asked.
Nevada didn’t hesitate to add, “Macy believes Debbie Roberson is the type of woman our offender would take.”
Ellis stilled for a beat. “The man who came after me?”
“Yes,” Nevada said.
Ellis rolled her head from side to side and glanced off at a distant mountain before she nodded. “Oh, hell yeah, I’ll search this trail for you. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to help catch this guy.” She checked her watch. “I can be back in a few hours.”
“I’ll go with you.” Nevada wasn’t a man to let his cousin make that hike alone and unarmed.
“It makes sense that you search the trail and eliminate that possibility,” Macy said, looking at the car and the mountain. “I’ll text my forensic artist, Special Agent Spencer, and tell her to expect you tomorrow morning instead of this afternoon.” She was typing before Ellis could answer.
“Good,” Nevada said.
Agent Spencer texted Macy back almost immediately with a curt, Understood.
“I’ll change,” Nevada said. “I have gear in my car.”
“Burning daylight, cuz,” Ellis said.
The crow’s feet etched near the corners of his eyes deepened when he smiled at Ellis. “I hope I can still keep up with you.”
“Bet you can’t,” she said.
As he walked away, Macy asked Ellis, “Tell me about the search and rescue crew.”
“We’re based in Harrisonburg and serve the central valley area. When the sheriff’s office has a lost person, they call us, and then I put out a call for certified search volunteers.”
“And you’ve worked with Nevada before?”
“A few times when we needed an extra hand. He used to be part of the search crew when he was in college. Last week Mike helped me find an elderly dementia patient who’d walked out the back door of the Deep Run assisted living facility. It was cold as hell, but Nevada stayed with me until we found the man sitting on a fallen tree two miles away without a stitch of clothing on.”
“Did the facility say how the man got out?”
“They’re investigating.”
Nevada returned still wearing his ball cap, but he’d pulled on a lightweight sweatshirt and changed into a pair of well-worn hiking boots. He hefted a small backpack of survival gear.
“Did anyone suggest that Debbie could be suicidal?” Macy asked Nevada.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“How cold has it been here the last few nights?” Macy asked.
“Midthirties,” Ellis said. “Cold enough to freeze to death without the right gear.”
The trio crossed the lot toward Debbie’s vehicle, a blue 2008 Chevrolet sedan. She searched around the vehicle for footprints or signs of a struggle. There were footprints, but none appeared to be a man’s athletic shoe. She snapped pictures with her phone.
“There are tire prints by Roberson’s vehicle,” Nevada said. “Looks like someone parked right next to her.”
“I can take casts while you two are on the trail.” Macy worked her fingers into latex gloves and eased open the trunk, which the deputy had opened earlier. Lying in the center of the trunk was a coil of red rope. “We might end up with a random collection of impressions, but maybe in this case we are on to something.”
Ellis stared at the rope and absently rubbed her fingers over her wrist. The color drained from her face.
“Don’t look at it,” Macy said. “Focus on the mountain. You can hike that mountain and right now, I can’t. I’ll take care of this.”
“It shouldn’t upset me,” Ellis said.
“We’ve got to get moving, Ellis,” Nevada said.
Ellis turned away from the trunk.
“Good luck on the trail,” Macy said.
Nevada glanced up toward the sun. “I’ll keep you posted.”
As Nevada and Ellis walked toward the trail, Macy snapped more pictures of the car and the area around it. The car appeared to be decently maintained. No dents or scratches and no signs that anyone had tried to break inside.
Occasionally, she paused to make notes on her legal pad, knowing it could be months at least before she would present
these pictures and the contextual detail to a judge or jury.
After the photos, she was back at her vehicle and opening a gray plastic tub she kept in the trunk. Two days ago, in anticipation of this trip, she had freshly stocked it with forensic supplies she could use during the investigation.
She grabbed a plaster kit designed to capture the tire track and carefully mixed up the powder with water. She moved quickly to the only really defined strip of tire treads and poured the mixture into the imprint, waiting the fifteen minutes for it to set. She collected and bagged it.
As she rose, pain shot up her leg. She paused, curling her fingers into a fist, as she waited for it to subside.
“Damn it,” she muttered.
Macy had the chops to do the work. But she worried that the pain coupled with diminished stamina, not to mention the damn sleeplessness, would be her undoing.