“Fine,” I caved. “Walk the trails. See who you see, but don’t talk to anyone. I don’t want us to get kicked out before we have a chance to find answers.”
Lara stared at me for an extended second and then agreed. “Fine.”
“We’ll meet back here at the gong.” It wasn’t a question, but I waited for her nod of acknowledgment anyway. “And stay away from Ben,” I ordered, my voice devolving into a base growl, and left before I could gauge her reaction.Or before I could think too long about mine.
Leaving our tent, I cut a path behind it and parallel to the trail we’d taken from the Sanctuary. Normally, I’d follow existing paths and overlay my footprints on already damaged underbrush, but with a dozen couples, plus Ben, Matthew, Maxwell, and possibly other guards roaming the woods, I opted for my own course. For today, privacy trumped obscurity.
About twenty yards east, the tree line opened to windswept prairie bordered by a highway and the slopes of the Tetons in the distance. Setting my back to a large tree trunk, I scanned the perimeter and listened.Alone.I braced my back against the tree and lifted my left foot onto my knee.
While my and Lara’s IDs were hidden in my right boot, the left held a satellite phone with a two-week-long battery. The number pad slid out from beneath the screen. Thankfully, the only number I needed was on speed dial.
“I was about to send out the search drones,” Callum answered gruffly.
“No, you weren’t.” It hadn’t been nearly long enough for that. “Are you tracing my location? We’re near Route 1-91. I see Tetons to my north and Glover Peak due east. I’d say we’re about fifteen or so miles south of Bondurant.”
“12.2.”
Close enough.
“You meet Maxwell?”
“I can see the connection you two have. It’s very primal. Very promising.”
“Yeah.” I sounded hoarse. Hell, I felt hoarse.Raw.“So far, it’s just been Maxwell and two of the security for the retreat, Matthew and Ben. Any word from the reporter?”
“Yeah. Lots of them.”
“Well, that sounds ominous.” I rubbed my hand along my jaw.
“Hannah is Hannah Layman, and the rumor on campus was that even though Hannah had a serious boyfriend at the time, she was involved in something with her therapist and her therapist’s boyfriend.”
“What kind of something? Like a relationship?”
“A sexual kind of something. Her roommates thought she was being groomed, but had no proof.”
“Shit.” I blew out a tight breath. “Did he confirm it was Maxwell?”
“No, but Hannah’s parents did.” Callum paused as one of his weather alerts went off in the background. After silencing it, he continued, “Once I had her name, I looked them up. They moved after her death, so it took me a minute to track them down, but they confirmed Maxwell was Hannah’s therapist. Apparently, she taught a one-day seminar on managing college stress to the incoming freshman, and Hannah was in that lecture.”
“Did they know what was going on?”
“Not until after her death. Apparently, Hannah left her boyfriend a letter alluding to what had happened and he brought it to them. They hired a private investigator to look into Hannah’s death and Maxwell’s involvement.”
“But he didn’t find anything,” I assumed with a growl.
“No, he did. Just not enough.” No matter how guilty a party looked, without proof, an accusation was nothing more than defamation. “Maxwell’s boyfriend at the time was a lawyer. James Braun. According to Mrs. Layman, he threatened them with a pretty hefty defamation lawsuit if they publicly insinuated anything criminal about him or Maxwell without proof.”
Damn.
“Proof they didn’t have.”
“They weren’t going to stop looking, but then Maxwell up and disappeared.”
“Here,” I murmured, shaking my head.
“No one named James there?”
“Not yet.”
