“Morning,” I said, lifting a mug of broth Gail’s way. My father took one look at the state archeologist’s intense expression and bolted for the lake to watch the sunrise. Our guard ran a lap around the campsite and returned to his vehicle.
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by,” Gail said, settling on the fireside cushion my father had vacated. She’d dressed in slate gray and styled her hair. She’d even applied lipstick and tossed on a matching mauve scarf.
She’d be in good shape if the fashion police happened by our campfire. In my jeans and faded T-shirt, I was my usual fashion disaster. “Oh?”
“I phoned Mrs. Kinsey once I realized her cabin was a vacation rental. I’m tired of the sameness of hotels.”
This vacation kept getting stranger and stranger. “You’re staying there?”
She nodded. “I thought we might chat a few minutes this morning about my cold case.”
I unclenched my back teeth. “I’m on vacation.”
“But you’re working Twilla Sue’s case. It wouldn’t be anything more to work mine as well. This one with the dead child—”
“I hate cases with children. Their faces haunt me.”
She brushed aside my reservation. “DNA confirms this victim was a state senator’s child. One who was missing for five years. Her remains were recently found. The family initially believed Regina had been abducted for ransom, but the call never came.”
The name struck a familiar chord. After his daughter’s disappearance, the senator had a breakdown and withdrew from politics. Knox Sandelman became a recluse, refusing all interviews. Charlotte had talked my ear off about the politician when the story first hit the news.
“Senator Sandelman’s daughter? What was she, five?”
“Six.”
“She was so young. I don’t get some people. Hurting a child is so wrong, and killing a child is beyond terrible.”
“Agreed, which is why we could never identify a suspect. But now, with hindsight, it’s clear that someone benefited from this child’s disappearance. That’s motive in my book.”
Understanding flashed in my head. “Senator Hudson?” Even a person like me from the sticks recognized his name. He’d campaigned through our county several times. “You’re looking at a state senator as a suspect? This could blow up in your face.”
“No kidding. We need you to work this case. If we can place where they held Regina or a vehicle type, we might find evidence linking Hudson to the crime.”
“Where’d you find her, um, remains?”
“In an abandoned park in an Atlanta suburb. The area was slated for refurbishment last month, but they discovered a lot of bones when they started digging. The park is apparently an old unmarked cemetery, and since I’m the state archeologist, they called me in. While dating the bones, we found that one set wasn’t the same age. We ran DNA and got a hit. The thing is, no one thinks this is where she was killed. The park is a dumpsite. I need to find the crime scene.”
“Does the father know?”
“Yes, but they’ve kept the investigation and the discovery quiet to prevent the suspect from destroying evidence. We have a narrow window of time until the press gets wind of this. I have something of the girl’s for you to examine.”
Dad was right. The parent in me ached for justice for this child. What would it hurt to try one cold case? If it didn’t work out, I would know I’d been right to trust my instincts to stick to current investigations. I took a deep breath and met Gail’s steady gaze.
“I’ll do what I can, but I’m already on loan to Sheriff Blair. Her case takes priority.” The sky was pinking up. A new day was coming, ready or not. “Breakfast?”
Gail grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”