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“Wait. Before we let our imagination take control, if the killer had chased Trey and Elliott this far, then filled the barn with that many bullet holes, the logical conclusion would be that their bodies are still here—somewhere.”
“For another time,” Lucien muttered, looking directly at Gerald. “After calling the cops, we’ll need to come up with a reasonable explanation for why we were out here.” He held up a hand before Gerald or Susan could object. “We let the cops do their thing on the suicide. Then we circle back with ground penetrating radar and go over every inch of the place.”
“You know someone with GPR?”
“We do—two former Navy Seals own Terra Search & Recovery based out of Pelican Pointe. Not only do they do water searches, but they also own search dogs. They’re also part of the official county Search and Rescue effort. They’re routinely counted on to provide support to state and local officials. But we want to keep that info on the down low for now.”
“I’m sure you recognize how essential volunteers are to SAR, search and rescue,” Brogan began.
“Those folks with the dogs are the backbone of SAR,” Susan concluded, “We watch the news. We’ve seen hikers rescued off the mountains after a week lost.”
“Then you may have seen them on TV,” Brogan continued. “In addition to their SAR work, Beckett and Birk are two highly regarded trained divers. They’ve recently added people to their team to shore up a response from individual families when needed.”
“I like the sound of that,” Gerald said, nodding at Susan. “It means we could finally take control of this thing.”
“I say we make the call about the suicide anonymously from a pay phone on the way back to the highway,” Brogan stated. “I don’t think we should stick around.”
“I vote for the anonymous call, too,” Susan indicated. “I’ll even make it. Are we certain that the camper committed suicide, though? I don’t want to interfere with a murder.”
Lucien traded looks with Gerald. “Yeah. No doubt in my mind that the old camper shot himself.”
“Same here,” Gerald concluded. “He used one of those old Colt revolvers, a vintage pistol right out of the old west. He was lucky it even worked.”
“Or not so lucky,” Lucien muttered, shifting his stance toward the rest. “You guys head back. I’ll make the call and explain I was poking around at a client's behest.”
“If you stay, I’m staying, too,” Brogan said.
Susan lifted a shoulder. “If you two plan to take the heat from the cops, I’m staying put, too.”
Gerald grinned. “I guess we’re in this together.”
“No,” Lucien insisted. “Somebody has to take Bryan’s bike out of here. When the cops arrive, they’ll wonder why we’re removing a rusted hunk of metal from a potential crime scene.”
“Even if it’s worthless junk?” Susan asked.
“The police are picky like that,” Lucien cracked. “Plus, one of the neighbors may have spotted us taking our little detour into the woods. If so, that would need explaining.”
“Then what do you recommend we do?” Gerald wanted to know.
“There’s no question that we have to call it in,” Brogan suggested. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Gerald murmured something to his wife before turning to Lucien. “Let’s not make this difficult. We live in the area. It makes sense that Susan and I were out here walking around, taking a stroll, and enjoying the waning days of summer. We stumbled upon the body of the camper—end of story. Now go. Get out of here. Take the bike with you. I’ll call you later and tell you how things went with the cops. We’ll discuss coming back at a later time with the GPR. How does that sound?”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. Now, get out of here. I’ll cover the second set of tracks beginning with the old oak tree. The cops will never know you two were here.”
Susan smiled up at her husband. “I’ll help you. For the first time in a long time, I feel like this is what Trey would’ve wanted. We’re actively looking for him again. And it feels right.”
5
The rusted chunk of bicycle seemed to clatter and rattle all the way back to Pelican Pointe as if it didn’t want anyone to forget it was there.
“Any ideas why Bryan Sutherland’s bike would have ended up in a ditch?”
“Not a clue. But I intend to track him down and ask him about it, beginning in Medford, Oregon. Let’s hope I get lucky the first time. Medford’s in the south while Metzger is four and a half hours further north.”
“You’re not going there. Are you?”
