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Leaving her with someone else today had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. He knew Mark and Casey would keep her safe, but it still made him uneasy that he wasn’t the one by her side. Unfortunately, she’d been right at the cabin, when she’d said he wouldn’t catch the bastard sitting there with her.
She’d been with him all day, and in less than two hours, she’d be standing before him, live in person. Tempting him. Making him want to say things he’d vowed never to say to a woman again.
He picked up a manila folder from the table behind his desk and a handful of printed photos fluttered to the ground. His muttered oath was more so at the pictures in his mind than the ones on the floor. Then again, it wasn’t her fault he’d totally screwed up and fallen for her. So much so that he’d been appalled to realize at one point he almost hoped for a couple more nights at the cabin.
How frickin’ messed up did he have to be to hope she remained in danger so she had to stay with him? She deserved so much better than that.
The thought only added to his irritation, and he bent to pick up the pictures. Seeing the crime scene from up near Lawn Lake reminded him of Brittany’s photo card in his pocket. Wouldn’t hurt to check out what she had on there and then get them deleted for her. More than ever, she didn’t need to be reminded of what the man out there was capable of.
Tossing the pages from the floor on his desk with one hand, he fished the SD card from his pocket with the other, and inserted it into his laptop. Scrolling through the mini-icons of all the photos, he searched for the correct shots.
One of himself brought him up short. He clicked on the icon to enlarge it in the photo viewing program. What had she seen when she took the picture? What would she see now when she looked at it? After her obvious regret this morning, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.
He clicked the arrow button for the next photo. Studied it for a moment, and moved to the next. Hmm…something didn’t look right.
It took another moment of examination to figure out it was the footprints. After clicking through the remainder of the photos Brittany had taken, he returned to those first two that had tripped his awareness. The footprints didn’t add up.
The stack of prints that’d scattered on the floor lay right next to his computer. He pushed aside the top copies until he found the one he wanted. Holding it up next to his computer screen, he shifted his gaze from one to the other.
“Son. Of. A. Bitch.”
There should be four distinct prints: the poacher’s, his, Randy’s and Dennis’s. Instead, there were only three. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions too fast, despite the obvious indications right in front of him. As he’d pointed out to Brittany once, it was a common tread, and one of the men may have purchased the same pair of hiking boots as the poacher.
He made his way to Ryan’s office to access the time cards and helicopter flight logs, keeping an eye out for both men. He hadn’t seen Dennis all day, but Randy had been around earlier that morning.
“Gifford or Mueller around?” he asked his boss.
Ryan barely glanced up from his computer. “Mueller’s on night shift this week. Gifford left a little while ago. Said he wasn’t feeling well.”
Joel paused at the door. “You talk to him yourself?”
“Yeah. He looked like shit.” Now Ryan peered over a pair of bifocals. “Why?”
“It’s just…he seemed fine when I saw him earlier.”
“Then I’d say whatever he had for lunch didn’t agree with him.”
Joel left it at that. He wasn’t prepared to make any accusations just yet, even though his own gut was churning. When he returned to his office with
the data, he made a call to Aaron.
Seeing as they’d spoken less than an hour ago, Thompson answered with a hopeful, “You find something?”
“We may have caught a break,” Joel confirmed. “I’m going to send you some pictures, can you have your tech guys take a look at them, paying particular attention to the footprints? The first picture was taken before we started to process the scene. The second toward the end of processing.”
“We’ll get right on it.”
“Good. I’m going to see if I can confirm my suspicion on my end.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Likewise.”
Joel hung up and started tracking the schedules of both men to see if either had a work alibi for when the time of death had been estimated for each poached animal. Dennis had logged flying time in the chopper for each date except one. And the past three nights, he’d flown nighttime patrols on the opposite side of the park, including the night of the fire.
A heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach. Still, he dialed Dennis’s home, confirmed the time card, and let the man go back to sleep. Next, he called the man’s night patrol partner, who also confirmed the alibi.
Which left Randy Gifford.
