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“You don’t remember me, do you?” Hazel’s voice was taunting, a twisted smile curling her lips. “I visited the Duchamps—or should I say, the Woodsons—back then. Your family lived just down the street.”
Jo’s heart raced. Hazel had been to her childhood neighborhood? But her focus was on the gun, on Hazel’s unstable demeanor. She needed to keep Hazel talking, to buy time, to find a way out of this.
“I don’t remember you,” Jo managed to say, her voice strained against the dryness of her throat.
Hazel chuckled, pacing around the table. “I saw Tammy then, such a perfect little thing. Easy to take. And there were others, many others. They’re all out in the woods near the beech trees.”
Jo’s eyes flickered to the window. Outside was dense forest. Her breath caught in her throat. Was that where the answers to her sister’s disappearance lay buried?
“What are you going to do with me?” Jo’s voice was barely above a whisper, fear lacing her words.
Hazel leaned in close, her breath foul, her eyes wild. “Maybe it’s time you joined your sister. Reunited at last.”
She noticed Hazel’s attention momentarily drift to the stuffed animals, a hint of madness in her gaze. Jo seized the moment, shifting in her chair, trying to wriggle her hands out of the zip ties. But Hazel’s attention snapped back to Jo, her grip on the gun tightening.
“You’re not going anywhere, dear,” Hazel hissed, her finger twitching on the trigger.
Jo’s heart pounded in her chest. She needed a miracle now, anything to turn the tide. She thought of Sam, of the investigation, of Bridget, of the years searching for Tammy. She couldn’t let it end here, not like this.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
The logging site felt eerily silent compared to the bustling activity of his last visit. The absence of chainsaws and machinery noises left the air almost unnaturally still, a stark contrast that heightened his senses.
Sam tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at his phone every few seconds. Jo should have been here by now. He knew she wouldn’t want to miss this. If his theory was correct, this could blow the case wide open. He frowned at the empty message screen. It wasn’t like Jo to be unresponsive.
Peering through the Tahoe’s windshield, he noticed movement in the office trailer. Someone briefly peered out at his car before ducking away.
“They see us,” he said to Lucy. “Guess we can’t sit here and wait any longer.”
With a sense of urgency, he grabbed his hat and stepped out of the vehicle. As he and Lucy made their way to the trailer, the door swung open, revealing Danika Madden’s questioning gaze.
“What brings you here, Chief Mason?” Danika asked as she noticed Sam approaching the trailer.
Sam gave a nod, gesturing to the door. “Just a few more questions. Mind if I come in?”
Danika stepped back, opening the door wider to let him enter. Inside, Travis was seated at a makeshift desk cluttered with papers.
“Evening, Travis,” Sam greeted casually.
Travis looked up, a hint of irritation in his eyes. “I told you everything the other day, Chief.”
Sam smiled slightly. “Yeah, you know how it is. We have to dot everyiand cross everyt. Go over things several times. So, what are you doing here so late anyway?”
Danika and Travis exchanged a quick glance before Travis responded. “We’re just going over the accounting. Like I told you before, it’s a weekly thing, can’t be done during the day since I’m busy with operations.”
Sam nodded, making mental notes as he took in their demeanor. “I see. Well, I won’t take up too much of your time. Just need to clarify a few details about April Summers. You know, routine follow-up.”
Danika nodded, her eyes darting from Sam to Travis. She fidgeted with a pen, trying to appear nonchalant.
Sam leaned against the edge of a cluttered desk. “You know, I’m curious about April Summers. She was quite vocal against your operation. Did that ever get… personal?”
Travis swallowed, his eyes flickering away. “Just business disagreements, nothing more.”
Sam hummed thoughtfully. “You know, rumors say April had a knack for… let’s say, persuasive tactics. Ever experience that?”
Travis shifted in his seat, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. Danika stopped fidgeting, her grip tightening on the pen.
“Chief Mason,” Danika started, her voice shaky. “We don’t get involved in that sort of thing.”
