Page 26 of The Guilty Trial

“It still doesn’t answer how he would know about the cabin,” she finally said.

“I know. I can only deal with one impossible problem at a time.”

Allie smiled. She appreciated that he didn't pretend to have answers. Jason had been at this a lot longer than she had, and she trusted his gut. After about half a mile, they spotted a convenience store. He parked, and they went inside, stepping past rows of glistening hot dogs on metal rollers that smelled like they’d been there far too long. A clerk stood behind the counter, scrolling through his phone with the glazed expression of someone working a shift that wouldn't end for several more hours.

Jason approached the counter. “FBI,” he said, and pulled Bennett’s photo up on his phone. “Have you seen this man?”

The clerk barely glanced at first, then his eyes focused on the image, and Allie saw recognition kick in. “Yeah, sure. Yesterday afternoon.”

Bingo, Allie thought. “What time?” she asked.

“Maybe three? Little after?” The clerk set his phone down, suddenly more engaged. “He bought a couple bottles of Nyquil and a small bottle of vodka. Looked pretty rough, you know? Kept muttering to himself.”

“Did he buy anything else?” Jason asked.

The clerk frowned, thinking. “Couple other things. I can't remember exactly. But he wanted to know if there was a park nearby.” The clerk gestured vaguely north. “I told him about Mary Ralston. It's about a mile up the road. Nice place. I take my dog up there. He loves the trails, and I can’t keep him away from the creek.”

“Thanks for your help.” Jason headed for the door, and Allie followed.

“Sure thing, man. Hope you find him. He was super jittery—seemed pretty messed up.”

“You have no idea,” Jason said under his breath as they stepped back outside.

Neither of them spoke when they got in the car. A man as angry and desperate as Bennett, buying Nyquil and vodka and looking for a park was not a good sign.

Jason pulled back onto the road and drove toward the park. Turning into the entrance, he followed a narrow paved road that wound between towering evergreens. The park was larger than Allie had expected. The pavement gave way to gravel parking areas, and beyond those, a network of trails disappeared into the trees. Through gaps in the foliage, she caught glimpses of water, probably the creek the clerk had mentioned.

They parked near the main trailhead and got out. After the smoke from the casino, Allie appreciated the fresh scent of pine and damp earth. A wooden map mounted on a post showed the park's layout: multiple trails crisscrossing through forty acres with a creek running roughly down the center.

They took the main trail first, moving at a steady pace. A jogger passed them heading the opposite direction with earbuds in. Allie showed her Bennett's photo, but the woman barely slowed, shaking her head without really looking.

A man wearing khakis and a fleece pullover approached with a golden retriever. He stopped, and the dog dutifully sat while its tail continued to thump on the dirt. Allie couldn’t help but smile at the pet’s goofy expression. She wanted to crouch down and hug it, but instead she showed the man the same picture. He studied the photo more carefully than the jogger had.

“No, sorry, we haven't seen him, have we, Bo?” The dog tilted its head as if considering the question. The man reached down to rub the dog’s ears before continuing his walk.

The trail split, one path continuing along the creek and another that looked like it headed back to the lot. Jason chose the creek path, and Allie followed.

The sound of running water grew louder. Through the trees, she could see the creek itself, swollen from recent rains and moving fast over smooth stones. The trail here was less maintained, narrower, with roots snaking across the packed earth.

“He could be anywhere,” Jason said, frustration creeping back into his voice. “Could have walked through here and kept going. Could have hitched a ride on the main road and be in Oregon by now.”

“Or he could still be here.” Allie didn't want to say what she was thinking, but the Nyquil and vodka combination kept circling through her mind.

They followed a smaller trail that crossed over the creek with a picturesque arched bridge. As they headed toward the back of the park, the path became overgrown in places, forcing them to push through low-hanging branches. The creek noise faded behind them, replaced by the gentle rustle of wind through the pines and the occasional birdcall.

Jason stopped abruptly. His hand came up in a silent signal.

Allie followed his gaze. About twenty feet ahead, partially obscured by a large rhododendron bush, something protruded from beneath the foliage. At first, it looked like discarded clothing, maybe a jacket someone had left behind. Then she registered the shape more clearly.

A shoe. Attached to a leg.

They approached slowly, neither speaking. The figure lay on its side, with its back toward them, curled in a fetal position beneath the bush. The clothing was rumpled and dirt-stained.

“Mr. Bennett?” Jason's voice carried through the quiet. “Aris Bennett?”

No response. No movement.

Allie moved closer, positioning herself for a better view. “Sir, can you hear me?”