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“I’m going to walk around,” he said. “Call me if anything comes up.”
Jackson nodded, his watchful gaze on the trees.
Mitch took a step forward and using his wide-beam flashlight, followed the blood trail. His eyes swept over the ground, searching for anything his team might’ve missed, but he didn’t see anything. He was at the trees when he noticed a partial print on the ground. It looked like it belonged to a boot, and Camilla hadn’t been wearing boots. It was possible someone unrelated to this case had left the tread, but he didn’t want to make that assumption at this stage. They had few leads to go on and needed to follow up every possibility. He followed the boot tread a few yards, then lost it as the overgrowth on the ground thickened and the dirt was barely visible.
He backtracked, taking photos with his phone and measuring the tread. He attached it as an email and sent it to the forensics team.
He stopped at the woods, where he lost the tread. His team would look at the surrounding properties and talk to neighbors tomorrow, but Mitch knew everyone who lived on Castle Road and he didn’t think any of them capable of this. Zoe’s closest neighbor was a wheelchair-bound veteran—Old Johnny, as the locals called him.
Why here?
Why Zoe’s house?
Mitch chewed on his cheek. Camilla had been taken straight into surgery. He hadn’t had an update and didn’t expect to receive one for a few hours yet.
Peter Buh... Peter could be an alias. And without a last name to go on, their biggest lead might not be a lead at all.
Mitch shined his beam up, scanning the trees above them. He didn’t know what he was expecting to see, but anything was possible with this case.
Yet nothing seemed out of place. There certainly weren’t any suspended bodies swaying in the trees.
He sighed, his gaze returning to the ground. He started walking aimlessly through the woods toward Castle Road, keeping the dirt road in sight—there was no evidence to follow, but walking helped him think.
He recalled every detail of this case, trying to fit the pieces together, mentally moving them around like he would do on a whiteboard.
He needed to talk to Brandon Ross, the sooner the better.
Mitch rubbed his arms as the chill of the night settled in. The rumble of tires on dirt pulled him from his thoughts. He stepped out of the woods into view of the approaching headlights and stuck his hand out, his palm toward the driver. A moment later, the car began to slow. It came to stop beside him.
He quickly realized it was a matte black Ford Raptor, and he didn’t need to see the driver to know it wasn’t a Redwater local.
Mitch knew the cars Redwater locals drove, and he’d never seen this one. Sure, someone could’ve bought it in the last few days, but it was unlikely.
The window lowered and Mitch peered in to see a man in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, behind the wheel. He looked vaguely familiar, but Mitch couldn’t place him.
“Hey,” Mitch said as casually as possible. “Are you lost?”
The guy gave a relaxed smile. “Just checked in on my uncle, Johnny Williams. I was passing through town this evening and thought I’d pay him a visit.”
Mitch relaxed a little, realizing he’d probably met him before. “What’s your name?”
“Shaun. Shaun Williams,” he said.
Mitch nodded. “Nice to meet you. How is Johnny?”
“The same as he always is,” the man said, then looked behind Mitch. “You need a lift somewhere?”
“No, thanks. Did you see anything unusual tonight?”
The guy shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“A woman was found not far from here, severely injured. She came down this road,” Mitch said, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was correct.
“No, sorry. Just left the house a minute ago,” he said, meeting Mitch’s gaze.
Mitch nodded, then tapped the car door. “Drive safe.”
Shaun nodded and the window went back up.
