The crime scene shots from the ISP case file flash to life in my mind. “The one with a DNA match to that thermos I collected from Crooked Pine Basin?”
“Yes. There were other DNA profiles found in there, remember? I had the crime lab compare the ones from Samantha’s body.”
“You got another match.”
“Yep. Not the same profile as the one from the thermos you collected, though.”
I run a hand through my hair, letting this intel sink in.
Two men assaulted Samantha Bowen and are most likely responsible for her murder. One of them also left DNA in an abandoned trailer used for human trafficking.
One of the two men who fled from an illegal logging site in Crooked Pine Basin also left their DNA in that same trailer.
“It’s good policework,” I say with a heavy sigh, “but it’s still pretty far removed from a slam dunk, and certainly nothing that leads to an arrest.”
“True. But it puts at least one cult member in the same space as a murderer. We’re getting closer.”
“There has to be a way to close the loop. Did they ever find Samantha’s car?”
“Yes, but it was clean. She took the bus to work that day, so it threw detectives off at first. They now think she got abducted between the bus stop and her front door.”
Someone had to have seen something. Could they be too scared to talk? If we crack this case open, maybe they’d feel safe enough to come forward.
I kick at a tuft of frozen grass poking out of the snow. “I’m planning a visit up there tomorrow now that I have proof the Polaris I saw is owned by a cult member named Tolbert Browning.” It took some creative legwork, but I found the dealer who sold that fancy sled to him. The salesman remembered Browning because he paid in cash. For a sled that costs as much as a decent used truck, I can see why that would stand out.
“Maybe we’ll catch a break and he’ll be willing to talk to us.”
“That’s the goal, but I’m not holding my breath.”
I’m groomingTupelo when my cell rings. I reach for it, hoping it’s Keo. Since our fantastic lunch date, we’ve met up several times at her house, each with us ending up in bed. We’ve certainly been making good on our agreement tohave some fun, but that steady yearning for more is only getting stronger, even though I was the one who warned her that I couldn’tgiveher more. I should spend some time with those thoughts, so I can figure out what to do about them, but my caseload keeps ramping up, and Keo’s been busy with a deadline for a commercial piece and spending time with Colton.
But it’s Scott Shay calling, and there’s only one reason he’d call me this late on a Thursday evening.
“Whittaker,” I answer.
“You need to take CJ with you on this raid tomorrow.”
I put Scott on speaker and set my phone on the stall’s half door. “It’s not a raid.”
“You’re visiting Sons of Eden for the sole purpose of confronting these two, are you not?”
I bite back my annoyance.
“Take the kid,” Scott presses. “He needs the experience.”
I trade the grooming brush for the pick and rubber tub and runmy hand down Tupelo’s front leg until he lifts it for me. “He’s not ready.”
“And keeping him on the sidelines is your plan to get him ready?”
I finish with Tupe’s leg and set his hoof back on the floor, then move to the hind leg. “He’s got paperwork to finish on the shed hunters case. And I have him checking limits on the Clearwater.” Something I’ve been unable to do as often as I should thanks to Sons of Eden’s escalating illegal activity these past few months.
Scott scoffs. “How’s your hip?”
He’s going there, huh? All COs and field staff must pass a yearly physical, and though I didn’t fail mine, my doctor felt the need to order an MRI for my hip, and the results are in my file. “It’s fine.”
“Have you scheduled the surgery yet?”
I carry the pick and bucket to Tupelo’s other side, my hand trailing over his rump. As much to reassure him as myself. Because I’m sure a serious procedure like a hip replacement will have a long recovery, and I don’t have that kind of time or patience. And what if the surgeon fucks it up? How am I supposed to do my job and chase after my grandkids and ski with Linnie if I’m stuck in a wheelchair?