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The quarry was vacant. There hadn’t been any tracks made in the mud or patches of snow leading into the area. Not to mention there wasn’t a place for Price to huddle up at night.
Hawke turned around and headed down to the main road on the slope, following it up to Valiant Road. He turned right, heading up hill, toward the mountain and thick forest.
The road had some activity. Mud puddles had been cracked by tires and patches of snow had muddy tire tracks. He continued until a three-string wire gate marked the end of the road. As he’d navigated up the gravel path, the snow became more constant and deeper. He stepped out into four inches.
The wind blew white crystals off the trees, making it appear as if it were snowing.
Hawke swept his gaze over the area in front of the gate. A vehicle had entered when there was snow on the ground, but the tracks were filled in with about two inches. He still had no real proof these tracks had been made by Price.
He pressed the button on his mic. “Hawke. Following tracks into the old Price place at the end of Valiant Road.”
The radio crackled. “Are you requesting back up?”
“Not at this time.”
“Copy.”
He checked his duty belt and vest, pulled on his coat, and locked his vehicle before opening the gate and following the tracks onto the property.
The scenery, when he lifted his gaze from the tracks every ten feet was as breath-taking as being up on the mountain. Pine and fir trees stretched up to the sky. The underbrush was less invasive than at the higher elevation. The white ground with bursts of brown and green poking out was one of his favorite sights. The struggle of the living to not let the snow and cold of winter halt its existence.
A glance ahead and he spotted an old run-down shack. If this had been what the Prices lived in, he understood how Barney, the boy, could have felt a need to pretend he was something else. The shack reminded Hawke of some residences on the reservation where he grew up. Those homes were derelict because the occupants drank or did drugs and no longer cared about life.
This place still had some of the artist parents’ flare. The front door had once been blue with what he was sure were large vibrant flowers. Macramé plant hangers looked more like giant spider webs from the years of weather. The door was open, hanging by the top hinge.
Hawke took the dilapidated state to mean he didn’t need to knock. He stepped inside. Darkness, as if the lights had been turned out, met him along with the stench of animal inhabitants. He found his flashlight and flicked the switch. Furniture was tossed about as if someone had thrown a tantrum. Some pieces were broken, others upside down or on their sides. Wildlife feces on the floor and furniture were contradictory to the intricate paintings on the rough-hewn board walls.
This had been a place of inspiration. Sarah may have felt that, but it was apparent from her conversations and that with Darlene, her brother hadn’t felt the same.
Hawke moved through the rooms. Someone had been in the kitchen recently. There was a spot where the dust on the counter had been disturbed. Shining the beam of light around the room, he couldn’t find any other proof of a human inhabitant.
He retraced his steps and returned outside. The tire tracks moved on by the building. He followed the dual indentions in the snow one hundred yards past the building and found a blue mustang. The license plate matched that of the vehicle owned by Ms. Wallen.
Hawke cautiously approached the vehicle even though the two inches of snow hiding most of the blue meant the doors hadn’t been opened since the last snow. Brushing the snow off the driver side window, he was pleased to not find a body in the front seat. A yank on the door and it opened. A purse sat on the passenger seat. An open wallet sat on top of the purse. Hawke pulled out his phone and took photos. He scanned the back seat. Nothing.
He pushed the trunk button. Just because there wasn’t a body in here didn’t mean one couldn’t be hidden in the trunk.
Walking to the back, he slipped his gloved hand into the opening and flipped the trunk lid up.
Nothing.
It was a relief, but it also meant there was a possibility Ms. Wallen was somewhere out in the woods, cold and injured, or worse, dead.
Hawke closed the trunk and pulled out his phone to contact Donner. Reception was limited. He grasped his mic and said, “Hawke. Requesting Search and Rescue and Detective Donner to my location.”
“Copy.”
His gut twisted thinking Ms. Wallen could be injured or dead somewhere in the vicinity of her vehicle. But his first action would be to walk back to the county road, open the gate, and drive his vehicle back here.
«»«»«»
Hawke was crouched at the driver’s side door, staring at the top of the snow, when Donner walked toward him following Hawke’s tire tracks.
“Any luck?” Donner asked, staying to the back of the vehicle.
He shook his head. “The snow has melted and new snow on top, making it hard to tell if that set of indentions heading to the back of the house are footprints or if the indentions heading into the trees are prints.” He stood and shrugged. “Sometimes Mother Nature can’t help but make things more difficult.”
Donner laughed. “Mother Nature.” His facial expression hardened. “How about the sick homicidal maniac we have running loose.”
Hawke wasn’t ready to judge the man a homicidal maniac. Yet.
The Search and Rescue arrived, following Donner’s tracks.
“What do we have?” Deputy Novak asked.
“Possible female victim somewhere on this property. Not sure if we’ll find her alive or not.” Hawke scanned the faces of the men and women who had trained for this type of assignment. While their faces remained impassive, their eyes revealed their hope at finding her alive.
They split up into four quadrants. Hawke went with the one where he thought there could possibly be footprints going further into the woods. They spread out with twenty feet between them and began walking, searching under bushes, behind logs, and in indentions in the ground.
Hawke discovered a muddy print. He’d been right to follow the indentions. Fifty more yards and he came upon the shack Sarah had mentioned. He approached cautiously.
Cupping his hands to his mouth, he made the sound of a whippoorwill. The people on either side of him glanced over. He motioned for them to come toward him as he approached the building.
The door on this building had been repaired. The building was small, no more than five feet tall and five feet wide by six feet long. He grasped the leather pull on the door and swung it open. The dark interior captured very little sunlight through the opening.
He tugged on his flashlight and shone the beam into the small enclosure. A sleeping bag with a lump in it took up the middle of the room.
“Anyone in here?” Hawke called out.
A muffled whimper came from the bag.
Relief rushed through Hawke. He had steeled himself to find another body. Knowing whoever was in the sleeping bag was alive, gave him hope.
He knelt beside it, drawing the zipper down. A disheveled Ms. Wallen, the side of her face bruised, blinked at him. She held bound hands up in front of her face.
Hawke turned to the person standing in the door. “Call and tell them I’ve found her and get an ambulance up here.”
Within minutes, Donner and Novak arrived at the building.
Hawke had the Assistant D.A.’s bound hands and feet cut loose and she sat, leaning against the side of the building.
Novak handed her a thermos lid of steaming liquid.
“Thank you. I didn’t think anyone would find me.” She took a sip of the liquid and glanced at Hawke. “I’ll have to say, I now believe all the stories I’ve heard about your tracking skills.”
“Who did this to you?” Donner asked.
“I don’t know. I received a phone call to come out here. Someone wanted to talk to me about the night Mr. Lange had the accident that killed my mother’s cousin.” She studied them. “You all know that’s what I’ve been doing? Trying to figure out what happened?”
They all three nodded.
She sighed. “I should have brought Mr. Lange in on this from the start.”
“You didn’t see who called you out here?” Hawke asked. What she should have done was over. They had to focus on finding the man responsible for so many deaths.
“No. I arrived at the house. Saw the door barely hanging and walked in. Something hit me in the side of the head.” She barely touched the bruising on her face. “The next thing I know I woke up in this sleeping bag with my hands and feet tied. I stuck my head out but found it was easier to stay warm if I remained curled up.”
“Did you take the file from Bremmer’s pickup?” Hawke asked.
“What file?” She stared at him.
Without Ms. Wallen having seen her assailant, they couldn’t be conclusive that Barney Price was the man they were looking for.
The siren of the ambulance split through the silence of the forest.
“I’ll direct the EMTs back here,” Novak said, backing away from the door of the building.
“We’ll need all the files and information you’ve gathered,” Donner said to Ms. Wallen.
She nodded slightly. “It’s all in my car.”
Hawke glanced at Donner. There weren’t any files in her car. “No, they aren’t.”
She started to stand. Hawke grabbed her arm, helping her stay on her feet. “I had my folder, the recordings of my interviews, and my computer with all the information...” Her eyes blazed. “The son-of-a-bitch who hit me and tied me up, took it, didn’t he?”
“Looks like it.” Hawke wondered how he hadn’t seen any other tracks from the car. But he had. The indentions leading from the car to the back of the house that he’d wondered about. The person had to have taken the incriminating evidence out of her car at the shack. That explained the marks on the counter. That’s where he’d placed her files and computer. Then he drove back here, carried her to this building and went back to the shack in a different direction. Gathered the evidence against him and... where did he go. And when?
Bonnie and Roxie, the EMTs, arrived with a basket.
“I think she’ll be able to walk back to the ambulance,” Hawke said, getting out of the way so the two could check Ms. Wallen’s vital signs.
He and Donner stood outside the building, staring deeper into the forest.
“What do you think?” Donner asked.
“About the world debt or global warming?” Hawke asked, knowing Donner wanted his opinion of where to look next.
“Very funny.” Donner didn’t sound like he thought it was funny.
“I have one other place to check. His sister mentioned he liked to hang around the Roller Rink at the Lake.”
Donner laughed. “That place is falling down. They plan to knock it down and put in parking for the tram.”
“It’s not down, yet. I think I’ll wander that direction and have a look.” Hawke started back toward where his vehicle was parked.
“Keep me posted!” Donner called out as Roxie and Bonnie, with Ms. Wallen between them, emerged into the cold afternoon.