Chapter 4

Candace shrugged off her daypack, tugged out a plastic water bottle, and held it out to the detective. “Want a drink, Detective Farrell?”

“Please, call me Aiden.” He smiled, flashing a row of even, white teeth.

“Okay. Aiden it is.” His name rolled off her tongue like velvet. “Would you like some water, Aiden?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks.” He studied the river below. “It sure is pretty out here.”

The clear waters of the Eggleston River frothed white as they roared over massive basalt boulders and snaked through a narrow canyon eighty feet below. The winding dirt path followed the river along the edge of the ridge through a mature Douglas fir forest and past the clear, aquamarine waters of Mercer Lake. Yellow and purple wildflowers dotted the emerald-green mossy ground.

She breathed in the sweet scent of rising sap carried on the fresh spring breeze.

The incessant drone of insects, and the rumble of the distant rushing water filled the air.

She brushed a smear of dirt off the knee of her hiking pants. “I’m surprised we haven’t seen other hikers. This trail is pretty popular on Saturdays.”

“Have you been back here since that time you were running and saw the footprints?”

She shivered and wrapped her arms across her chest. “No. I-I—”

“I understand. You were afraid you’d run into that man, but you can rest easy. He wouldn’t hang around, especially if he were up to no good.”

“I know my fears are groundless, but I…” She bit down on her bottom lip. Once spring arrived, and the snow and ice melted, she’d wanted to return to the park, wanted to run along its winding trails, but she couldn’t get over her nervousness. Even now, with a handsome, armed detective at her side, she couldn’t help peering into the thick stand of trees searching for someone lurking, watching them. She swiped her sweat-dampened hair off her forehead. “How is our being here helping?”

“I want you to pinpoint where you saw the footprints.”

“Why? I don’t see how showing you where I saw the tracks three months ago will help. We don’t even know who left the footprints. Detective Breacher suggested they were made by a naturist connecting with Mother Earth by walking barefoot through the forest.”

He chuckled. “Maybe.” His easy grin faded. “But maybe not.”

After he’d left her office yesterday afternoon, she’d spent the evening on her computer searching news sites for information about missing persons in Colorado. The news stories were easy to find—dozens and dozens of articles about missing teens and young women—all very disturbing. She was shocked at how many people were missing. Most were women, the majority of them young.

Fifteen-year-old Amanda Jacobs was the most-recent person who’d disappeared, and the circumstances were all too familiar. She’d vanished from her bedroom in the middle of the night in Cardion. The last anyone saw of her was when she said good night to her parents and headed to bed.

Her mother had gone to Amanda’s room to wake her for school the next morning, but she wasn’t there. Her bed had been slept in, but Amanda was gone. The bedroom window was open, and no one was certain if she’d run away, or if she’d been taken against her will. She hadn’t been seen or heard from since.

That was three months ago.

Candace had spotted the footprints in the snow around that time. Was there a connection? Or was she placing too much weight on her uneasy gut feelings? The face of the bearded man filled her vision, and she shuddered and rubbed her chilled skin.

“Damn.” Swatting at a cloud of hungry mosquitoes buzzing his face and arms, Aiden swore again. “Are the bugs always this bad?”

She fished in her pack for a small bottle of insect repellent. “Sometimes they’re worse.” She handed him the bug spray. “Try this. It’ll help.”

“Thanks.” He moved a few feet away and sprayed a cloud of the repellent over his arms and legs. Squirting some of the insecticide into the palms of his hands, he smeared the oil over his face and the back of his neck.

She couldn’t help smiling. “You don’t get out in the woods much, do you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

She looked pointedly at his once-pristine tennis shoes. The white canvas sides were coated in mud. Tiny green burrs furred the long white laces.

His face reddened. “I guess I should have worn hiking boots.” His warm laughter rumbled from deep within his broad chest.

Her insides melted, and she couldn’t help but chuckle in return. His laugh was infectious. “You think?”

“Give me a break. I’m new to the area. I moved here a month ago from Seattle, and I’ve been working so hard I haven’t had a chance to get proper hiking clothes.”

“Briggston must be quite a change from the big city.” She’d lived in the small, rural town of twenty thousand, nestled in the heart of the Rockies, her entire life. The surrounding county had everything she liked… rivers, towering snow-capped mountains, a myriad of spring-fed, azure-blue lakes, and hundreds of acres of protected forest. Creighton Springs State Park, with its miles of trails, was one of her favorite places to run, cycle, and snowshoe. Or at least it had been until she’d encountered the creepy bearded man.

Aiden swatted at a fly buzzing his head. “This is pretty country, but you could sure do something about these damn bugs. I miss the ocean, and the beaches, and my favorite coffee shop.” He slapped a mosquito that landed on his arm. “People in Briggston are friendly though. Small town, I guess. Everyone knows everyone.”

She winced. That was the one thing she didn’t like about Briggston—people had long memories—too long. She couldn’t walk down the street without someone stopping her and expressing sympathy for her loss. The pity in their eyes brought back the pain and made the guilt fresh again. She’d thought of moving to a town where no one knew her sad story, but the possibility that Charlene would return one day kept her in Briggston.

She checked her wristwatch. “We’d better get moving if you want to look at the area where I saw the footprints and make it back to town by afternoon.” She hefted her pack, slung it over her shoulders, and continued along the narrow trail.

Still slapping bugs, he followed.

Fifteen minutes later, she stopped and studied the moss-covered ground. The area looked different in the spring with all the new growth, but she recognized a large rock threaded with distinctive gray-and-white quartzite streaks. “There.” She pointed. “That’s where I noticed the first footprint.”

He squatted and studied the ground, brushing aside dirt and leaf litter. “Are you sure?”

She pointed at the striped boulder. “I remember that rock.”

He studied the surrounding forest for a long time, as if he hoped the trees would reveal the answers he sought.

“Do you think the footprints belonged to that missing girl? Is that why we’re here?” The question had haunted her since she’d learned about the missing teen, and it kept her awake the previous night. The thought of a young girl in the forest in the dark and cold, in bare feet, injured, and fleeing her abductor, sickened her.

She should have done more that day, listened to her inner voices warning her something was terribly wrong and insisted Detective Breacher search the area sooner. If she had, maybe Amanda Jacobs would be home with her family and not another sad statistic, a face on a missing person’s poster. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you think she was here? Is that even a possibility?”

Aiden scrubbed his whiskered chin. “You said the prints were small, like those of a woman or a teenager.”

“That’s what I thought, but snow can distort the size of tracks. For all I know they could have been made by a small man’s foot.”

“Maybe.”

She shivered, though the day was warm. “Why would a kidnapper bring her to the park? Cardion’s a long way from here, and there aren’t any houses close by. The park outhouses and open-sided shelters in the picnic areas are the only buildings. Where would he keep her?”

His face was grim as he studied the dense forest. “I promised her parents I’d find her.” He huffed out a breath. “Show me where the footprints headed into the trees.”

She led the way along the winding, narrow trail and around a bend and stopped. “I think this is where the tracks veered into the bush.”

“You’re certain?”

“I think so.” She shrugged. “Everything looked different. A winter storm was coming, and it was getting dark.”

He shoved leafy branches and prickles aside and fought through a thick tangle of wild rose bushes and red willows. Rubbing a long red scratch on his arm, he frowned. “The undergrowth’s pretty thick, and even in the fall, these brambles would've blocked the way.”

“That’s what surprised me. Why would anyone head into the bush? You’d think they’d stay on the trail where the walking’s easier, especially if they were injured.” Unless they were running from someone; someone who wanted to hurt them. Again, she shuddered.

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a roll of fluorescent pink flagging tape. Using his teeth, he ripped off a strip of tape and tied it to a branch.

“What're you doing?”

“Marking this spot so the K9 team knows where to start their search radius.”

“You’re planning to bring in search dogs?” Finally, someone was taking her concerns seriously. Warmth flooded through her, and hope flared, but then she recalled how long ago it was that she’d seen the tracks in the snow, and her hope fizzled. “Will the dogs be able to pick up on anything after all these months?”

He scratched his arm. “I don’t know, but there’s a young girl missing, and I sure as hell intend to do my damnedest to find her.” His mouth firmed, and a tiny pulse throbbed in his jaw. He ripped off another strip of flagging tape and tied it to a branch overhanging a stump.

She pointed out two more places where she thought she’d seen the footprints before she lost them in the maze of trees and thick undergrowth.

He tied a pink ribbon by each spot she indicated.

When she was finished, he stuffed the roll of flagging tape back in his pocket. “You did great. This’ll help a lot.”

A menacing-looking cloud covered the sun, dark shadows deepened under the trees, and the wind picked up. She shivered in the sudden chill. “Looks like a storm’s on the way.”

“I think I have enough for now. Let’s head back. I’d like to get the paperwork started.” He shoved through the bushes to the path and set a fast pace as his long legs ate up the trail.

She had to jog to keep up, and by the time they descended the hill to the parking lot, she was out of breath.

They crossed the gravel lot to his black SUV, and he tugged out an electronic key ring and unlocked the doors. Holding the front passenger door open, he gestured for her to climb inside.

She settled onto the supple leather seat and strapped on her seatbelt.

He strode around to the driver’s door, slid behind the steering wheel, started the vehicle, and pulled out of the parking lot onto the narrow access road.

“Can I ask you a question?” She shifted on the seat, so she faced him.

He shot her a look. “Sure.”

“How come you left Seattle? I mean, Briggston is a small town. We don’t have fancy coffee shops or high-end restaurants.” She bit the inside of her cheek. His personal life was none of her business; yet, for some reason, she wanted to know everything about him. “This place must be pretty boring for a big-city detective like you.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and his knuckles turned white.

He was silent for so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business—”

“Briggston isn’t boring.” He plastered an obviously forced grin on his face. “I met you, didn’t I?” He scratched a red welt on his neck. “And there’re all these lovely bugs. What more could a man want?”

His attempt at flirting fell flat, but she returned his smile. The man had secrets. That was obvious. He’d avoided answering her question.

Interesting.