Page 8 of The Missing Couple

“A white—kind of off-white, like a pearl actually—formfitting dress.” His brow furrowed as he called the image to mind. “Dress hit around the tops of her knees. High-heeled shoes that matched the dress.”

“What kind of heels? Pointy? Platform? Wedge?”

He held his forefinger and thumb about three inches apart. “The skinny, pointy ones about this long. Those are her favorite. I doubt she would have left home without at least two pairs.”

Charly pointed to the indentation. “That’s a pointy heel impression.”

His smile tried to reappear. “You’re very good at this.” He would have done exactly as she had, but watching her had been far more…interesting. And, he had to admit, she appeared to be better than him at the business of tracking.

“This—” she pointed to an area of flattened greenery on the ground “—is a deputy’s footprint. Notice the vague waffle-like grid. The boots they were wearing have that pattern. This print was going back to the cabin so we’ve already gone as far as they did when they looked yesterday.”

Oh yeah. She was good.

“Lead on,” he suggested.

She started moving again, her gaze roving the ground and then the area around her in a constant close pattern. Every hesitation had his neck prickling. He knew little about the area. Basically nothing, actually. But this wasn’t his first hike in the woods and based on his drive from town, these wooded acres were nestled between the road and the river. The aerial view he’d found while searching for info during the flight showed a thickly wooded property. If his memory was correct, they were moving away from the river and toward the road that ran the length of the property.

The trail had started at the cabin and through the woods to the north before heading east toward the road.

BY TEN, THEY HAD covered a considerable distance, and the sun was higher in the sky, beating down on them wherever the tree canopy parted. The air was heating up. So far, nothing more than the same types of indications that his sister had come this way had been found. The ground was drier in this direction, the incline higher. Other than the occasional indentation made by Briana’s heels and the sporadic broken limb on a bush, there wasn’t a lot to go on, but Charly didn’t miss any disruption in the landscape. He was seriously impressed at this point.

He bumped into her back.

An oomph issued from his throat. “Sorry. I should have been watching more carefully.”

She stared forward. He stepped up next to her since the space between the two trees where she stood allowed for it. He looked from her to where she stared.

“Listen,” she whispered as if someone might be nearby and she didn’t want them to hear what she had to say.

He did as she said and listened intently. A moment passed before he heard anything beyond the birds and rustling of the leaves they’d been hearing for a couple of hours. “Is that an engine? A car or truck?” he asked.

“Yeah. We’re really close to the road.” She stared at the ground. “It’s obvious they were brought this way for that purpose. If I had my guess, the trouble came to the cabin from this direction as well. Either way, whoever was with them knew the kind of footwear that wouldn’t leave a recognizable imprint.” She crouched down. “See that impression?”

He crouched next to her. “I do.” It was nothing more than a slightly flattened grass area—didn’t penetrate the ground’s surface. Too dry here “We’ve seen a few of those, some with a tad more depth. You’re sure all four deputies were wearing the same grid pattern-soled boots?”

She nodded. “Positive. It’s the department’s issued footwear.”

“Then the question is,” Billie said, “why was their vehicle taken off the property while they were brought this way?”

“Easy.” She pushed to her feet. “If anyone happened to be walking around the retreat and saw anything that night, it would appear they had driven away. If the vehicle was seen rolling through town it would, again, give the impression they had left of their own volition.”

Billie laughed. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were an investigator in a former life.” He knew she’d only ever been the owner of this retreat other than her short waitressing stint during high school. Charly Nix was another bit of research he’d done on the flight from Chicago to Guntersville.

“My father taught me to pay attention.” She shrugged. “He used to be the sheriff in Marshall County. And a hunter. He said when push comes to shove, your best defense is in the details. Every little detail matters.”

“Smart man.” He glanced at the ground again. “You ready to keep going?”

“Ready.” She started forward once more.

They discovered the same evidence for the next few minutes as they’d found when they started—right at that step coming down from the deck at the cabin. Eventually, the forest gave way to a grassy right-of-way on the roadside. The highway cut through right in front of them. Traffic appeared to be sparse.

Charly did her magic. Studying the ground until she found what she was looking for. She squatted down a few feet from the pavement and looked closer.

“Another heel impression here. Then this line of smashed grass. It’s springing back up now, but it was flattened for a bit.”

“A vehicle pulled to the side of the road here,” he said.

“Yep. Could have been any vehicle passing through except for that heel indentation.” She stood. “This is where they got into a vehicle and drove away.”