“Yeah, it would. If they can remember after all this time.” Jenna nodded as she stared at the whiteboard. “Start tracking them down. I figure it would be okay to call them, as it’s been so long. If we do get anything interesting and they’re not from around here, we could ask their local law enforcement officers to go and take a statement. If there’s nothing unusual, cross them off the list. Hopefully they’ll all have left for usual reasons. We really need to cut down the suspects, so move on this. Bring any who stand out to my attention.”
Rio listed the maps in chronological order and pointed to the first one. “Lawson’s observations written on this one are particularly intriguing. Lawson had scrawled a hurried note in the margin of a map marked clearly with an X. It reads: I saw a man carrying something wrapped in a tarp. I was some distance away but I believe I saw blonde hair hanging from one end. That following week, Taylor Smith didn’t show for her paycheck. No one had seen her leave.” He moved to another map. “By using this aerial map, I worked out Lawson was referring to the machinery shed.” He pointed to the old well. “That’s still there and the notation is: The dogs won’t go near the old well.” He moved on to the next one. “This one is marked as a cattle grave, but it’s not distinguishable on the aerial shots. The notation on this one says: No cattle buried here for a month. I found tire tracks, footprints, and drag marks. The soil had been disturbed. I spoke to Bowman and he figured one of the ranch dogs was buried there. He seemed rattled, like I’d hit a nerve. I shrugged it off but I’m watching him closely.”
“Does the next one show where he found the items inside the small tin box?” Kane leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. “I can see Xs all over it.”
Rio nodded. “Yeah, he made a list, with the dates he found them. The other map marks places, including the old well, the burn pit, which is likely different nowadays. A disused root cellar in one of the old cabins is marked as a no-go area because it was dangerous. The entry in his notebook we cross-referenced with the old root cellar. He mentioned he’d been drawn there because he believed he’d heard someone crying. He’d ridden back to the ranch house to get his flashlight, and Wade—who I assume was his leading hand at the time, Wade Cutter—had gone back. They found the cabin door locked. Lawson forced it but the access to the root cellar had rotted away. He found the earring in the grass outside but doesn’t mention telling anyone. From the following entries, it’s obvious he didn’t trust anyone.”
“Hmm.” Kane twirled a pen in his fingers. “This must be the same Wade who found Rhett’s parents’ bodies in the fire and freaked out. The story goes that he became so traumatized he took his own life.” He blew out a long breath. “So either someone murdered him because he knew too much, like Lawson, or he really did have PTSD and suicide would be very possible. Reliving trauma repeatedly becomes too much for some people. I would like to interview his wife. Apparently, she still lives on the ranch and her son is a wrangler.”
“For what reason?” Jenna frowned. “I can’t see the point.”
“Mainly because men confide in their wives.” Kane shrugged. “As the leading hand, he’d have valuable information. We don’t know if Lawson confided in him about his concerns, do we? Maybe he did and Cutter told his wife.”
“I’m sure you can handle Ms. Cutter.” Jenna scanned the whiteboard with interest. “And the other map, what’s that about?”
“Oh, that one is interesting.” Rowley smiled. “I figure everything started to fall into place. He was worried after finding scorched women’s clothes in the burn barrel. Here.” He pointed to an X on the map. “These other Xs are a number of cattle graves. He mentions these in the diary: I don’t know what goes on here overnight. I’ve often heard vehicles, seen lights. I’ve investigated, and seen things that don’t seem right. Women are going missing and I believe they’re killing them and burying them in the cattle graves. It could be a group of men who murder the women or one man, but could one man do all that alone? There’s no one I can trust—not the sheriff, he’s likely in on it. The man is always here drinking with the hands. Last night I found a driver’s license and today Paloma Cortes is nowhere to be seen. No one is talking, but I’ve kicked a hornet’s nest. I’ll get Rhett away and safe. I need to see a lawyer and then I’ll call the FBI. I don’t know what else to do.” He looked at Jenna. “He has Cutter as his leading hand at this time and he can’t confide in him. Who else could he have spoken to?”
“Maybe Bowman?” Jenna twirled her empty coffee cup with her fingertips. “We interviewed him and he didn’t send up any red flags.” She leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. “If he’s a serial killer, he would be well practiced by now at deceiving people. I don’t know for sure, but I figure we need to visit him again. There are other men who have been there for over twenty years. Rhett has made all the current files available and Kalo is going to make a list for you. He believes the current digital files will give a date when the men first started work on the ranch. These will be your main targets, both men and women. I want to know if they’re reluctant to talk about the past or seem afraid of telling you anything.”
Rio looked from her to Kane and back. “Do you figure the past and current murders are connected?”
“I hope not.” Jenna blew out a sigh and stood slowly. “But I’m not discounting it. Beth made a good point yesterday. She said that serial killers keep on murdering people until someone stops them. If there’s one on the ranch and he’s been there for over twenty years, I figure he’ll be in his late forties at least by now. Age doesn’t stop them, but we will.”
“We’re heading over to see Wolfe and Norrell.” Kane stood, collected the cups, and took them to the sink. “Hopefully we’ll get an update on what’s happening in the pigpens.”
Nodding, Rio smiled at them. “We’ll finish up here and then head out to the ranch to interview Ms. Cutter.”
Twenty-Seven
Stanton Forest
Trembling with fear, Zoe crouched behind a tree as the sound of the man got closer. She needed to move—now. She gathered her courage and walked along a well-worn trail. She sobbed with relief at the sound of women’s voices drifting toward her on the breeze and broke into a run. As the trail turned into a dirt road, she could see a woman emerging from a vehicle, chatting to another standing on a porch. As she stepped out of the forest, the women turned to look at her. She ran toward them, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Help me. There’s a man—he wants to kill me.”
Horror reflected in their eyes at the sight of her. One of the women put her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in shock. “Oh, my Lord.”
“What happened to you, my dear?” A woman placed the bags she was carrying on the front stoop and turned toward her. “A man did this?”
Sobbing, Zoe nodded and pointed behind her. “Yes, and he’s coming after me. Please help me.”
“Come inside and I’ll lock the door.” The woman standing on the porch beckoned her inside and scanned the forest. “I don’t see anyone out there, but I have weapons in the house and I’ll close the shutters. No one is coming through my front door.”
Zoe stumbled inside and stood in the hallway shaking with terror while the women ran around closing the shutters at the front of the cabin. When they returned, she followed them into a bright sunny kitchen. The aroma of bread baking drifted toward her. Her stomach growled appreciatively as she looked at them. “Thank you so much. He’s been hunting me down for hours.”
“You look pretty beat up.” One of the women frowned at her. “What’s this man’s name? I’ll call the sheriff. She doesn’t look kindly on men beating up women.”
Trembling, Zoe shook her head. “I don’t know him and he kept his face covered but he has a cabin in the forest not far from the river.” She coughed. “May I have a glass of water, please?”
“Sure. What’s your name?” The other woman guided her to the kitchen chair and eased her down. “I’m Tracy Howard and this is Cheryl Staton.”
Gulping down the water, Zoe looked from one to the other. For a few moments she couldn’t remember her name and then it slid into place. “Zoe… Zoe Carpenter.”
“What exactly happened to you?” Tracy sat down beside her. “How long have you been in the forest?”
Head swimming, Zoe just stared at her. Her memory had blanks and dark empty spaces. “I’m not sure. Everything is fuzzy. I just kept running for as long as I could and then I saw you chatting outside.”
“You should get her something to eat, Cheryl, and then maybe she can take a shower.” Tracy looked her over. “Unless you’ve been raped. It’s best not to have a shower if that’s what happened. I’ll call the sheriff and she’ll get someone out here to take care of you.”
Zoe placed the glass down on the table and tried to stand. “No, I don’t believe I’ve been raped and I already washed in the river. I stunk like death. Please, no sheriff, not yet. My head is aching so bad I don’t think I could stand all the questions. I can’t remember very much at all. I don’t know how I got into the cabin with the man. I remember him hitting me and then waking up in a box. I figure it must have been a meat locker. I climbed out and just ran.”
