Bet wanted to set the helicopter down right away and investigate the truck, or at least read the license plate.
“No can do, Rivers. It’s against regulations to land on national forest land without permission. Even if I could find an open spot on private land outside the boundary, I’d need permission from the owner; otherwise I’m guilty of trespassing. Just because a helicopter can land anywhere doesn’t mean it should. If you can’t see the plate from the air, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I’m not risking my license over this.”
Bet trained her binoculars on the truck, but trees blocked the tailgate no matter how low they flew.
“Sorry, Bet,” Vogel said. “You’re going to have to drive back out here on your own.”
Bet understood his position, but a lot could happen in the time it would take her to return. If Seeley Lander remained nearby, he would have seen the helicopter circle. If he was guilty of a crime, it might make him run. If it was Seeley’s truck but someone else drove it and left the area after they flew away, she’d never identify the driver. Seeley could also be injured somewhere down there, and it would get harder to find him as daylight faded. She willed Vogel to fly faster as they turned and headed for the airfield.
Bet called Alma from her SUV as she raced back to Ingalls Creek. Alma had located seventeen women on Seeley’s friends list without profile photos, but Carrie Turner’s whereabouts were still unknown.
“I’ll keep at it,” Alma said. Bet anticipated Alma wouldn’t quit that night until she located all the women on the list and Bet returned to Collier safe and sound.
“Good. Anything else?”
“Seeley’s adviser replied to your email.”
“She have any useful information?”
“Nothing yet. She just wanted you to know she’s still trying.”
Bet went on to explain she thought they’d located Seeley’s missing truck and she would radio in from the scene.
“I may need a tow truck sent out, depending on what I find.” Bet couldn’t impound the vehicle without evidence of a crime, and nothing they knew so far proved Seeley Lander guilty of anything, even if it was his truck in the woods.
Nothing but static came through from Alma’s end.
“You get that, Alma?” Bet asked.
“Just remember some bastard shot that little girl in the back.”
“Will do,” Bet said. “Over and out.”
Bet turned onto Ingalls Creek Road. On either side, dirt tracks disappeared into the trees onto private property that skirted the national forest. Bet could see run-down properties in the woods, ramshackle buildings gone to ruin in the forest. Old trailers and rusted automobiles on blocks glinted through the trunks. The road ended in a small parking lot for the trailhead, which led into wilderness.
She felt her apprehension rise at her own isolation. The SHERIFF sign painted on the side of her vehicle didn’t make her safer in the woods. The denizens of this community could just as easily view her with suspicion and ignore any pleas for help.
Working in isolated areas meant things were often quiet. It also meant she rarely had backup to rely on. She hadn’t felt the current situation warranted having either of her deputies meet her here, but the woods were dark and she started having second thoughts. It was human instinct to be wary of the forest at night.
Using photographs she snapped from the helicopter, she identified the dirt track where Seeley had parked his truck. He sat close to the end of the road on private property, not on national forest land. She had no way to know if the owner had given Seeley permission, so she couldn’t use him parking illegally as a justification for impound.
She pulled over in her SUV before she reached his vehicle, not wanting to announce her arrival.
Trust your instincts, she could hear her father say. If you’re cautious, that’s one thing. If you’re afraid, that’s another. Fear keeps us from doing something stupid.
Bet determined she wasn’t doing anything stupid. Besides, Earle wouldn’t have needed backup, and Bet hated not measuring up.
She slid out of the SUV, strapped on her bulletproof vest, and unsnapped the keeper on her service weapon. She walked down the ruts of a narrow, overgrown side road to where the truck sat. The tall conifers, mostly firs, pines, and cedars, cloaked the area in darkness, and the dense undergrowth of dead trees and bushes made it harder to see if anyone watched from the woods.
She came upon the vehicle, a red Ford Ranger with a black camper shell. The tinted windows of the shell made it impossible to see inside, so she continued her cautious approach. Pulling her flashlight out, she shined the light through the window of the camper.
A cooler, a spare tire, some paper grocery sacks, and a crumpled fast-food bag were all she saw in a quick glance. Moving to the passenger’s side door, she played her light through the windows of the extended cab, also tinted. No one, alive or dead, sat in the cab. Two takeout cups from Sandy’s coffee cart sat in the cup holders. Other than that, the truck sat empty.
Twigs and pine needles covered the vehicle, and the windshield was dusty as if it had been parked there several days. The forest lay quiet, though the splashing of the rushing stream in the background could mask the sound of someone moving through the woods. Bet looked around for footprints and saw two distinct sets of tracks leading away from both sides of the truck. One set of tracks looked smaller than the other, both with the treads of hiking boots.
After taking photos, she followed the tracks to the creek near where a bridge had once crossed onto private land. The roadbed had fallen away, leaving only footings in place. The water split around the concrete posts, the current swift.
Bet estimated the trail from the end of Ingalls Creek Road to the back of the hillside with the mine to be roughly five miles. A twentysomething in good shape could easily navigate the distance, despite the rugged terrain and rise in elevation.
The question remained, however: why hadn’t they both come back out? Were two people out in the woods right now? With no connection to Jane Doe? Or had one of the hikers arrived here in this truck and ended up shot, wrapped in canvas, and abandoned in the lake? Most importantly, if the latter was true, had the other set of footprints been left by a killer or by another victim?
Bet took a look at the license plate and confirmed the truck belonged to the missing Seeley Lander. She decided to get her kit out of the SUV and dust the outside of the truck for prints. They had so little to go on that it would be worth making a mess of a civilian’s car if she came up with a set that identified Jane Doe.
She called in her location and situation to Alma, relieved her cell worked so far back in the mountains.
“You want a tow truck?” Alma asked.
“I don’t have justification. Let me look for fingerprints and see if I find anything interesting on the trail. I’ll call you back before I leave.”
Finishing up the call with Alma, Bet pulled out her evidence case. She felt her pulse quicken. The truck was the first solid piece of evidence beyond Jane Doe’s body. If Jane Doe’s fingerprints were in a database—and since the eighties, a lot of parents had fingerprinted their children—this could give them an ID. Once she had Jane Doe identified, she could track down information about her trip to Collier.
Proof the woman had traveled with Seeley Lander would put him squarely in her sights as perpetrator, second victim, or at least a witness. She felt a spark of hope that the investigation was about to take a turn ahead of her deadline with Jamie Garcia.
She wanted any press on the investigation to put her in a good light and, even more importantly, come out after she notified next of kin.
Bet managed to lift a few good prints on the passenger’s side of the vehicle. The prints on the handle were too smudged to be of use, but she found clear prints on the roof, where people put their hands getting in and out or when the window was open. Exterior prints on a car were useless in court, but right now she only wanted an ID.
She had finished up with the prints when movement off to her right caught her eye. Whatever slipped through the woods stood taller than a deer but smaller than an elk, and bears didn’t walk on their hind legs. Someone crept around in the woods.
The flashlight must have given her presence away, as the intruder made a beeline toward her. She took a deep breath and went out to meet them.