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“What do you think?” I asked Mack as soon as we were back in my car.
James had returned to the camper, dejected and depressed. I didn’t know how long he was planning on staying in town—he’d been noncommittal when I asked—but I’d given him my cell number and told him to keep us informed if he heard from Tim.
“What do I think about what?” Mack asked.
“About Tim.”
Mack gave a quick shrug. “Who knows? Do I think he took off? Yeah, of course.”
“And what about what James said, about Tim not being involved with Miranda?”
Mack rolled his eyes. “Please,” he said, his voice laden with disgust. “Just because Big Bro doesn’t know about it doesn’t make it untrue.”
I didn’t want to point out that just finding a photo among stacks of other papers inside Tim’s camper didn’t make it true, either.
“Look, there’s one thing I know for sure,” Mack said as we bounced our way down the gravel drive and back toward the main road.
“What’s that?”
“Tim didn’t just take off for no reason.”
We were at the end of the gravel and I stepped down on the brake, bringing us to a complete stop.
Mack was right.
Something had triggered Tim to leave. According to James, it had been the simple fact that Miranda had been found on his property. He’s gotten spooked and just left. Taken his supplies and disappeared. I didn’t know Tim from Adam, but even I could see the holes in that story.
He’d left behind his camper and all of his supplies—well, everything except his hunting gear and some food. If he’d spent all of his time prepping for the end of times, why would he suddenly abandon everything? Wasn’t the point of his entire life to be prepared...and if so, why would he just walk away from it all? His camper was a drivable one, so if he’d intended to leave, why hadn’t he just gotten behind the wheel and driven off? Especially if the only thing he was running from was the memory of finding a dead woman on the property he camped out at.
The photograph Mack had found might not be enough evidence to connect Tim to Miranda’s death, but it was something that needed to be addressed.
And the only person who could answer the questions we had was Tim.
Which meant we needed to find him.
I turned right, accelerating at a slow pace, my eyes more focused on the side of the road than the asphalt in front of me.
“What are you doing?” Mack asked, frowning.
“I’m looking for a good place to pull off.”
“Why? Is something wrong with the car?”
“No.”
“Then why do you want to pull over?”
About fifty feet ahead the shoulder was slightly wider, with the trees hugging it a little less dense. I maneuvered the car as far from the road as possible and hit the brake again.
“I still have no idea what you’re doing,” Mack said.
“For a private investigator, you’re a little slow,” I told him.
His frown deepened.
“You want to find Tim, right?”
Wordlessly, Mack nodded.
“And we know he’s not at the camper. We also know he is no longer in James’s truck. Correct?”
Another nod.
“We know that Tim is comfortable being outside. Seems to actually prefer it, with all the hunting and fishing he supposedly does.”
Mack was staring at me, his frown morphing into more of a questioning look.
“So don’t you think it makes sense to go to him instead of waiting for him to come back to us? To civilization?”
Mack’s face screwed up in confusion. “What are you saying?
I opened the driver’s side door. “I’m saying we need to go to him.” I stepped out of the car and spread my arms wide. “Because he’s out here, Mack. Somewhere. And we’re going to find him.”