He’d told Pete about it later and was positive there had been a photo taken of the print. Only Boone hadn’t found onewhen Pete asked. And the sheriff in charge at the time had died following a lengthy illness.
“Have the crime scene tech dust everything for prints when he arrives. For now, let’s keep this quiet.”
Ryan understood why. “What if Pete was right and the person who took Abby was a local?” Lately, Pete seemed to lean toward the theory that someone in town—someone who knew Abby—might be involved in her disappearance. Over the years, Pete believed she was killed right away, her body buried somewhere in the remote areas around Pine Haven.
The radio crackled as Boone lowered his voice. “Then someone in town’s been hiding the truth for more than fifteen years. It’s possible they’ve gotten away with murder. They won’t want the truth coming to light now.”
Ryan stared out through the storm to the darkness where the trees swallowed up the road beyond. “It’s time we found out the truth. Once and for all. For Abby. For her family. For Charlie.” Because she’d likely lost Pete at the hands of the same killer.
Boone didn’t answer. A heartbeat later the transmission went dead.
Through the howling wind the only other sound was the thunk, thunk, thunk of Charlie’s wipers as they struggled to keep up with the onslaught of winter weather.
Ryan stood on the porch of Pete’s cabin with the door standing wide-open. The wreck inside was proof whoever had broken in wanted one thing. The journals. But they weren’t familiar enough with the house to know where Pete kept them. Were Pete and Boone right? Had someone from town been harboring the answers to Abby’s disappearance all these years?
He called to mind his last visit with Pete. What made Pete so nervous? The latest journal had rested on the table next to Pete’s recliner.
Ryan gave himself a mental shake. Hopefully, Doug, their crime scene tech, could pull some prints that would help identify the person or persons who’d broken into the cabin.
He turned back to Charlie’s SUV. White puffs of exhaust curled into the night. Inside, she leaned forward watching him, her hands clutching the steering wheel. Her face appeared pale as if she’d seen a ghost.
Between them the past swirled. Their past. They’d grown up together. Dated in high school. Broken up. She’d left for college. He’d gone away to the academy and come back.
The second he’d laid eyes on her again, he knew she was the one for him. Old pain reared its head threatening to choke him up. He’d thought she felt the same way. Maybe she had. But she’d left anyway. After what happened to her parents, he shouldn’t blame her. . .but he did.
Ryan stepped from the porch and went around to the driver’s side window. He tapped on it with his knuckles.
Charlie jumped despite watching his approach. After a heartbeat, she lowered the window halfway.
“Are you doing okay?”
She didn’t look at him. Charlie’s attention remained on the cabin that had been her second home.
“Not really. How bad is it?” she asked softly.
He hesitated before forcing a small nod. “Bad. It appears someone deliberately targeted the place. This wasn’t just vandalism, Charlie. They were after something in particular. Pete’s journals.”
Her head jerked his way. Hands squeezed the life out of the steering wheel. “What about the words on the wall?”
Ryan exhaled slowly. “Someone carved it deep. They wanted to make sure you saw it.” If it were meant to frighten Charlie away then clearly the person responsible didn’t know her.
Charlie didn’t react and that scared him even more.
“Doug’s on his way here now. No one’s coming back here tonight.” He paused. Asking her to stay at his place was on the tip of his tongue.
Her gaze narrowed as she searched his face, her blue eyes held a wealth of hurt inside them. “They knew what they were coming after.”
There was no denying it. “Yes.”
“Pete was working on a new lead before he died. He told me as much during one of his calls.”
“You mean about Abby?”
She nodded. “Yes. He said he found something that didn’t make sense.” She shook her head. “I thought, well, he always blamed himself for what happened.”
As a police officer, Ryan understood that guilt. At the time, Pete had been the sheriff with a meticulous record for closing cases. Abby’s was the only one he couldn’t solve.
Ryan leaned over and rested his arm on the lowered window. “Did he say anything more? Anything that might help us figure out who was responsible for what happened here?” Something ugly niggled at the back of Ryan’s mind. What if Pete’s death hadn’t been caused by a heart attack?
