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Nod. Bonita held out her hand again. This time for the drawing. Kimberly handed it over, still confused.
Bonita’s fingers danced gently over the form she’d colored in blue. Then she tapped the image once, and gazed at them expectantly.
“She cut open her own leg,” Kimberly filled in softly. “She killed herself, that’s what you’re trying to say.”
Bonita nodded sadly.
“To escape them,” Flora said, because she of all people would know.
More nodding.
“Do you know what happened to the body?” D.D. asked.
Nod.
“Is she in the woods?” D.D. gestured to the remaining drawing, which Kimberly now realized was a mountainside filled with subtle slashes of black lines.
Shrug.
D.D. turned to Kimberly. “Those black lines, they all represent other deceased victims.”
“But...” Kimberly couldn’t speak. There were dozens of them. The sheriff and the others crowded close, inspecting the image, as well.
“Holy mother of God,” Sheriff Smithers exhaled. “How... for how long... Holy mother of God.”
“Bonita, could you lead us to where you last saw Stacey’s body?” D.D. was asking.
Another nod.
Kimberly was starting to feel overwhelmed. Harold believed he’d discovered another old grave, plus they now had this new grave. She was going to have to call Atlanta, demand half the office report for duty immediately. Not to mention her supervisor would be in the next vehicle headed up.
“Plan,” Kimberly directed out loud, to herself as much as anyone. “We will find Stacey’s remains. We will process Hélène’s body, we will send the ERT to start exhuming Harold’s possible find. But all of that is reacting. We’re chasing past damage, when what we need to do is get ahead. If we don’t have any ideas for the so-called mastermind, and no leads on our current killer, where to focus next?”
“Marketing,” Keith spoke up immediately. “Group like this has to be operating on the dark web. Meaning they got a computer nerd somewhere.”
Kimberly contemplated it. “Except, of all the business positions, as you call it, that one doesn’t have to be local. Their internet support could live anywhere and still manage shop.”
“True,” Keith acknowledged. “But Bill Benson—who runs the ATV rental—he mentioned a town clerk, Dorothea, who now runs the town’s website and social media platform.”
“That’s right.” The sheriff nodded. “She’s been doing that... long time now.”
“Ten years,” Keith volunteered.
The sheriff stared at him. “If you say so.”
“It’s quite possible that whole thing is a front. Remember the ghost tourists the agent was talking about last night? Those may be customers of the cabal, brought here by that website, which has a back door to the dark web, where the real transactions are taking place.”
“I’ll pick up Dorothea,” the sheriff said immediately.
“No!” Keith exploded, then seemed to realize he’d come on too strong when the sheriff puffed up in size. “I’m sorry. But the worst thing you can do is let a site manager know you’re onto them. Plenty of computers have a kill switch—a single code that the administrator enters twice, and everything is automatically erased. We need to find the portal for the dark web, access the business enterprises site, and download all the information we can before alerting anyone to our game.”
Sheriff Smithers still didn’t appear happy. “How do you do that?”
“The mayor and his wife had a couple of computers at their inn, right?”
“Two desktops, a couple of tablets, and a laptop,” Kimberly rattled off.
“Okay. The Counsels are part of this organization. We’re sure of that. Which means they must be accessing the group’s portal from at least one of their computers.”
