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Dance lifted her mobile and said, "TJ, you there?" When she'd heard the intruder come up behind her she'd hit "Dial."
"Yeah, boss. What's up?"
"I'm at that construction site off Harrison. I'm here with Deputy Reinhold from the sheriff's office."
"Did you find anything?" the young agent asked.
Dance felt her legs going weak, her heart pounding, now that the initial fright was over. "Not yet. I'll call you back."
"Got it, boss."
They disconnected.
Reinhold finally holstered his weapon. He inhaled slowly and puffed air out of his smooth cheeks. "That just about scared the you-know-what out of me."
Dance asked him, "What are you doing here?"
He explained that the MCSO had gotten a call an hour ago about "something" having to do with the case near the intersection of Pine Grove and Harrison.
The call that had spurred Dance to come here.
Since Reinhold had worked on the case, he explained, he'd volunteered to check it out. He'd been searching the construction site when he'd seen the beam of a flashlight and come closer to investigate. He hadn't recognized Dance in the fog and was worried that she might be a meth cooker or drug dealer.
"Did you find anything that suggests Travis is here?"
"Travis?" he asked slowly. "No. Why, Kathryn?"
"Just seems that this'd be a pretty good place to hide a kidnap victim."
"Well, I searched pretty carefully," the young deputy told her. "Didn't see a thing."
"Still," she said. "I want to be sure."
And called TJ back to arrange for a search party.
IN THE END they did learn what the anonymous caller had seen.
The discovery was made not by Dance or Reinhold, but by Rey Carraneo, who'd come here along with a half dozen other officers from the CHP, the MCSO and the CBI.
The "something" was a roadside cross. It had been planted on Pine Grove, not Harrison Road, about a hundred feet from the intersection.
But the memorial had nothing to do with Greg Schaeffer or Travis Brigham or the blog entries.
Dance sighed angrily.
This cross was fancier than the others, carefully made, and the flowers below it were daisies and tulips, not roses.
Another difference was that this one had a name on it. Two, in fact.
Juan Millar, R.I.P.
Murdered by Edith Dance Left by somebody from Life First--the anonymous caller, of course.
Angrily, she plucked it from the ground and flung it into the compound.
With nothing to search, and no evidence to examine, no witnesses to interview, Kathryn Dance trudged back to her car and returned home, wondering just how fitful her sleep would be.
If indeed she could sleep at all.
