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“That’s the going theory,” Sawyer confirmed.
Just like in his book. Fucking hell. “Did he put her in a vehicle?”
“We’re not sure. There was a van in the parking area shortly before she arrived, and it left shortly after, but we have no idea if it’s involved or if it just belonged to another runner. It’s a popular running trail. Ash put out a BOLO for the van’s description, but there were also drag marks from her car into the woods, so it’s more likely he—we’re assuming the assailant is a man—just dragged her off somewhere. We’ll know more when the dogs get there. If she was dragged anywhere, they’ll find her trail.”
But if the killer were smart, and if he was actually recreating the deaths from Shadows, then he’d know how to hide his trail. Connelly groaned softly and scrubbed his hands over his face.
Sawyer stopped typing and turned. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Those pale eyes narrowed. “I may be blind, but I can hear just fine, and that groan was tinged with guilt. What did you do?”
“Ash told me not to say anything.”
“Yeah, well, Ash can be a myopic son of a bitch. Every bit of information is crucial in a case like this. If you have something to contribute, spit it out. We don’t have time for secrets.”
Connelly sighed, realizing that Sawyer wasn’t going to let it go. “In my last book, there’s an entity that feeds on fear. Yesterday, Ash showed me images of a recent murder that copied the method of death of the first victim in my book.”
Sawyer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re telling me this is some sick copycat shit?”
“Ash thinks so. And after seeing pictures of the first crime scene, I have to agree. It was...” He exhaled softly and shut his eyes but opened them again because the image of May-Lynn Tapia’s mangled body seemed to be permanently burned into the backs of his eyelids. “It was like the killer had reached into my imagination and pulled out the exact scene.”
Sawyer was silent for a solid five seconds. “Well, that’s fucking creepy.” He turned back to his computer, and after a moment of typing, an e-book of The Shadows Within appeared on screen. He didn’t speak again for a long time as his screenreader scanned through the book.
Connelly watched as the familiar pages flew by.
Finally, it stopped on the first death scene, and Sawyer sucked in a sharp breath. “Wait. May-Lynn was murdered? Word around town is she fell off the cliff. Does Ash think she was pushed?”
“No. She was dead before she went over the edge.”
“Jesus. That poor girl.” The screen flew through the pages again until Sawyer found the second death scene. “Claustrophobia. Buried alive in a cemetery. Holy fuck, man. Your brain is a scary place.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Okay.” He cracked his knuckles and pulled up the maps on the screen again. “This could be a good thing. If he’s following the book, she’s not dead yet. He wants her to suffocate, which means we have time. Not a lot of time, but still. We need to shift the search focus to cemeteries near the abduction site. Get on the radio and tell the team what we’re thinking.”
Connelly grabbed a radio. “Not just cemeteries. We need to search anywhere someone could potentially be buried.”
“Which isn’t on the bluffs along the running trail. Too rocky.”
“Wait.” Something on one of the maps caught Connelly’s eye. He set the radio back down and moved closer to the screen to get a better look. “What’s that?”
“Describe it,” Sawyer said.
Shit. Sawyer was so good with the computers it was easy to forget he couldn’t see. “Uh… grid number G10. There’s a big blank spot in the middle of it. What’s there?”
Sawyer turned back to his keyboard and typed something, then pressed a hand over his headphones to listen to the response. “It’s a cave.”
Adrenaline poured into Connelly’s blood. “That’s it. She’s there.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” Every cell in his being knew it. There was no way the killer could bury a victim in a cemetery in the middle of the day, but nobody would notice him in a cave in the middle of the woods. He crossed the room in long strides and snapped up his coat. “Send the teams there.”
Sawyer spun in his chair, tracking his movement to the door. “Where are you going?”
“To the cave.”
