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Bridget nodded, her eyes intense with a blend of hope and determination. “We haven’t had much to go on, but there was a recent tip about our old babysitter moving to White Rock. It might all be connected. If her family was involved somehow…”
Her voice trailed off as she was caught in the labyrinth of possibilities. “If only we knew where those trees were,” she added, frustration seeping into her tone.
Kevin thought for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. “There were also some numbers on the drive that I thought might be some sort of coordinates.” He quickly pulled out his phone, fingers dancing over the screen as he entered the mysterious numbers.
The map zoomed into White Rock, pinpointing a location on Mountain Loop Road. Bridget’s heart skipped a beat, adrenaline surging through her.
“What are we waiting for!” she exclaimed, leaping from her seat with a sudden burst of energy. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and resolve. This could be the breakthrough they’d been hoping for—a tangible lead in a case that had long seemed hopeless.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
Sam sat alone in his office, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the corkboard that covered an entire wall with photos and information about the April Summers case.
He mulled over his conversation with Hank Madden. The man’s alibi had checked out, but something didn’t sit right. Why had Danika lied to give Hank an alibi? Sam’s gaze returned to the footprint. He had been so sure it belonged to Hank, but now doubts crept in. Could Hank’s friend have lied for him?
A sudden commotion broke his concentration. “Lucy! No!” Reese’s voice echoed from the reception area. A second later, Lucy bounded into Sam’s office, Major’s new toy gripped firmly in her jaws. Close on her heels was Major, determined to reclaim his possession.
Sam leaned over the desk, watching the unfolding chaos. Lucy raced across the floor, leaving behind a trail of paint paw prints. Reese rushed in, rag in hand, frustration etched on her face. “They ran right through my trough of paint!”
Sam sprang into action, grabbing another rag to help clean up the mess. As he wiped, he noticed something odd about the prints. There was only one set, and they looked strange in the middle. He paused, realization dawning. The prints overlapped—Major had run through Lucy’s exact footsteps.
A lightbulb went off in Sam’s mind. He glanced back at the footprint on the corkboard, a surge of adrenaline shooting through him. The single set of footprints at the crime scene with the unusual tread—could they be overlapping prints too? Was it possible that two people were there when April was killed?
Sam had a suspicion of who those two people might have been. He tossed the rag back to Reese. “I gotta run!”
Reese looked up, surprised. “What? Sam, the mess!”
But Sam was already at the door, grabbing his jacket. “Sorry, Reese! I’ll explain later!” he called out as he dashed through the station.
Sam was halfway out the door when he heard the rapid patter of Lucy’s paws behind him. The German shepherd was in full police mode, her playful demeanor replaced by a focused alertness. She seemed to understand they were on police business, her feud with Major momentarily forgotten.
As Lucy rushed past, the toy she’d been tussling over dropped from her mouth, landing with a soft thud on the floor. Major, close behind, stopped in his tracks. His bright, luminescent eyes widened in surprise as he sniffed at the abandoned toy. For a brief moment, he looked at Lucy, an expression of feline astonishment etched on his face. But then, as if deciding the toy was no longer of interest now that the game had ended, he turned and sauntered away with a dignified air.
Sam couldn’t help but smile at the scene. It was clear to him that for Major, the joy was not in the toy itself but in the rivalry it sparked with Lucy. As he and Lucy made their way to the Tahoe, the dog left a partial paw print smudge of paint on the door. Sam noticed it but decided against cleaning it off. They were in too much of a hurry.
Sam whipped out his phone and sent a quick message to Jo:Might have a breakthrough. Heading to the logging site. Meet me there ASAP.
He threw the car into gear and sped off. Every second counted. If his theory was correct, they were closer than ever to unraveling the mystery. But time was of the essence.
As Sam’s car tore through the streets of White Rock, the setting sun cast a golden glow over the town. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
Jo lay sprawled on the floor, her head spinning as she tried to focus on Hazel standing over her. “What did you do to me?” she managed to ask, her voice barely a whisper.
Hazel’s laughter was chilling, echoing through the room. “Never accept tea from a stranger, dear,” she taunted, her eyes gleaming with malice.
Jo’s hand trembled as she reached for her gun, trying to lift it. But her muscles felt like they were made of jelly, unresponsive and weak. Hazel easily kicked the gun out of Jo’s feeble grasp, sending it skittering across the wooden floor.
With surprising strength, Hazel hauled Jo up from the floor and forced her into one of the dining room chairs. Jo struggled, but her efforts were futile against Hazel’s unexpected vigor. The old woman moved with a swift, unsettling agility as she secured Jo’s wrists with zip ties.
Jo’s heart raced as Hazel picked up the discarded gun, holding it with a familiarity that sent shivers down Jo’s spine. The realization of her dire situation settled in, her mind racing for any solution, any chance of escape.
Hazel stepped back, studying Jo with a cold, calculating gaze. “You’re in my world now, dear. And in my world, I make the rules.”
Jo’s mind raced, trying to piece together a plan amidst the fog that clouded her thoughts. She needed to stall, to find a way to alert Sam, to survive this nightmare. She’d made a fatal mistake and rushed out of Lily’s without telling anyone. No one knew she was here.
Her eyes darted around the room, seeking anything that might help her. But all she found were the unnerving stares of the stuffed animals seated around the table, silent witnesses to her predicament.
