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“Saw nothing. Most were too drunk anyhow.”
“How about heard anything?”
“No signs or sounds that night,” he said. “But we get all kinds of critters out here. Could’ve covered up any noises.”
Morgan nodded. “Coyotes. We’ll check for fur, tracks. Anything else?”
John hesitated. “The night before, we had a pressure drop in sector nine. Sensor blipped but didn’t last long.” His eyes met Rachel’s. “Could’ve been when she…when it happened.”
Rachel committed the sector to memory. “We’ll check it out. Thank you, John.” She meant it. Witnesses remembered more under kindness than pressure.
John touched the brim of his hardhat. “Ma’am. Anything to catch the bastard who did this.”
“Hey, any chance we can see those sensor logs?” Rachel asked. She quirked an eyebrow. “No need to shut things down with a warrant.”
He bit his lip and looked about ready to refuse, when Morgan stepped in, smiling amicably. “No worries. We can get a warrant. Could take a couple of days. You don’t mind coming in a few evenings, do you? Shouldn’t take more than six or seven hours. Maybe ten.”
He stared at this, his eyes widening ever so slightly. And with the zeal of someone attempting to get off jury duty, he said, “Er, well… you know. Login is just my name and the wordpass, lowercase.So… You know. Didn’t hear it from me, though.”
“Sure, sure. Thanks, man.” Morgan clapped him on the shoulder.
John gave another quick nod of his weathered features and then turned away.
Rachel watched him trudge back to the rig, shoulders bowed.
As he left, she pulled out her tablet, entering the info he’d provided.
“We good?”
“I’m in,” she said, scrolling through data logs as they walked. The sector nine sensor had blinked off at 2:47 a.m. two nights prior.
She chewed her lip. It didn’t feel like a coincidence.
Their boots crunched on gravel as they reached the site. An older pumpjack wheezed in the heat, see-sawing methodically amid dry scrub brush. Rachel pictured the killer dumping the body under the relentless mechanical motion. Alone out here, it would have been quick work.
Morgan circled the site, scanning the ground. He shook his head, finding no tracks or signs of disturbance.
Rachel’s gaze snagged on the pumpjack. “Can we stop it for a minute?”
Morgan raised a brow but hit the emergency shutoff. The pump jerked to a halt, the sudden silence ringing.
Rachel approached slowly. The ground beneath was dark and clumpy.
She frowned, glancing back toward the jack they’d come from.
“These two aren’t connected.”
“How’s that?”
“I mean… if this was the first one to trigger the sensors… I was thinking maybe the body was dumped here.” She pointed at the ground. “But ended up there.”
“Yeah. Right?”
“No,” she said. “Look.” She pointed toward a service hatch. “Other side of the rig. The sensors are for separate units. There’s no connection between them.”
“What’s your point?”
She frowned. “If the body was found over there”—she pointed toward the location nearly a hundred yards away and then slowly turned, frowning—“then what the hell triggered the sensors in sector nine?”
