Thats not soon enough. Laney turned and started hiking around the perimeter of the crime-scene tape, heading up the trail.
Doyle looked back at the crime scene and saw Ivy Hawkins looking at him, her brow furrowed. She gave a nod toward Laney, as if to say she and Parsons had the crime scene covered.
He was the chief of police now, not another investigator. While Bitterwood might be a small force, he didnt need to micromanage his detectives. Theyd already proved they could do a good jobhed familiarized himself with their work before he took the job.
Meanwhile, he had a public-relations problem stalking up the mountain while he waffled about leaving a crime scene that was clearly under control.
He ducked under the crime-scene tape and headed up the mountain after Laney Hanvey.
* * *
IMNOTGOINGto be handled out of looking for my sister, Laney growled as she heard footsteps catching up behind her on the hiking trail.
Im just here to help.
She faltered to a stop, turning to look at Doyle Massey. He wasnt exactly struggling to keep up with herlife on the beach had clearly kept him in pretty good shape. But he was out of his element.
Shed grown up in these mountains. Her mother had always joked she was half mountain goat. She knew these hills as well as she knew her own soul. Youll slow me down.
Maybe thats a good thing.
She glared at him, her rising terror looking for a target. My sister is out here somewhere and Im going to find her.
The look Doyle gave her was full of pity. The urge to slap that expression off his face was so strong she had to clench her hands. Youre rushing off alone into the woods where a man with a gun has just committed a murder.
A gun? She couldnt stop her gaze from slanting toward the crime scene. She was shot?
Two rounds to the back of the head.
She closed her eyes, the remains of the cucumber sandwich shed eaten at Sequoyah House rising in her throat. She stumbled a few feet away from Doyle Massey and gave up fighting the nausea.
After her stomach was empty, she crouched in the underbrush, battling dry heaves and giving in to the hot tears burning her eyes. The heat of Masseys hand on her back was comforting, even though she was embarrassed by her display.
I will help you search, he said in a low, gentle tone. But I want you to take a minute to just breathe and think. Okay? I want you to think about your sister and where you think shed go. Do you know?
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue to wipe her mouth. Before shed finished, Masseys hand extended in front of her eyes, holding out a roll of breath mints.
Thank you, she said, taking one.
I understand you dont live here in Bitterwood.
She looked up at him. I live in Barrowville. Its about ten minutes away. But I grew up here. I know this mountain.
But do you know where your sister and her friends would go up here?
I called my mother on the drive here. She said Jannie and the others were planning to keep to the trail so they could bunk down in the shelters. Theyre sort of like the shelters you find on the Appalachian Trailnot as nice, but they serve the same basic purpose. She waved her hand toward the trail shelter a half mile up the trail, frustrated by all the talking. Has anyone looked up there?
Not yet. He laid his hand on her back, the heat of his touch warming her through her clothes. She wanted to be annoyed by his presumptuousness, but the truth was, she found his touch comforting, to the point that she had to squelch the urge to throw herself into his arms and let her pent-up tears flow.
But she had to keep her head. Her mother was already a basket case with fear for her daughter. Someone in the family needed to stay in control.
Ivy called in the missing-person report on Jannie. She stepped away from his touch, straightening her slumping spine. Has anyone contacted the Adderlys?
The chief looked back at the crime scene. No. I guess I should be the one to do it.
No, she said firmly. Youre new here. Youre a stranger. Let one of the others do it. Craig Bolen and Dave Adderly are old friends.
Masseys green eyes narrowed. Bolen...
Your new captain of detectives, she said.
I knew that. He looked a little sheepish. Ill call him, let him know whats up. He pulled out his cell phone.
You probably cant get a signal on that, she warned. Go tell Ivy to call it in on her radio.
His lips quirked slightly as he put away his phone and walked back down the trail to the crime scene. He turned to look at her a couple of times, as if to make sure she wasnt taking advantage of his distraction to hare off on her own.
The idea was tempting, since she could almost hear the minutes ticking away in her head. She hadnt gotten a good look at Missys body, but shed seen enough of the blood to know that the wounds were relatively fresh. Even taking the cold weather into account, the murder couldnt have happened much earlier than the night before, and more likely that morning.
Which meant there might be time left, still, to find the other girls alive.
Bolens going to go talk to the Adderlys. Massey returned, looking grim. He was pretty broken up about it when I gave him the news.
Hes seen the girls grow up. Everyone here did. She glanced at the grim faces of the detectives and uniformed cops preserving the crime scene as they waited for the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation crime-scene unit to arrive. This place isnt like big cities. Nobody much has the stomach for whistling through the graveyard here. Not when you know all the bodies.
Im not from a big city, he said quietly. Terrebonnes not much more than a dot on the Gulf Coast map.
So this is a lateral move for you? she asked as they started back up the trail, trying to distract herself from what she feared shed find ahead.
No, its upward. I was just a deputy investigator on the county sheriffs squad down there. Here, Im the top guy. He didnt sound as if he felt on top of anything. She slanted a look his way and found him frowning as he gazed up the wooded trail. She followed his gaze but saw nothing strange.
Whats wrong?
His eyes narrowed. I dont know. I thought He shook his head. Probably a squirrel.
She caught his arm when he started to move forward, shaking her head when he started to speak. Behind her, she could still hear the faint murmur of voices around the crime scene, but ahead, there was nothing but the cold breeze rattling the lingering dead leaves in the trees.
No birdsong. She let go of his arm.
Should there be?
She nodded. Sparrows, wrens, crows, jaysthey should be busy in the trees up here.
Somethings spooked them?
She nodded, her chest aching with dread. All the old tales shed heard all her life about haints and witches in the hills seemed childish and benign compared to the reality of what might lie ahead of them on the trail. But she couldnt turn back.
If there was a chance Jannie was still alive, time was the enemy.
Lets go, she said. We have to chance it.
Im not going to run into a pissed-off bear out there, am I?
She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was trying to distract her from her worries. Its not the bears that scare me.
Lets go, she said. We have to chance it.
Im not going to run into a pissed-off bear out there, am I?
She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was trying to distract her from her worries. Its not the bears that scare me.
You dont have to go now. We can wait for a bigger search party.
She looked him over, head to foot, gauging his mettle. His gaze met hers steadily, a hint of humor glinting in his eyes as if he knew exactly what she was doing. Physically, there was little doubt he could keep up with her pace on the trail, at least for a while. He looked fit, well built and healthy. And she wasnt in top form, having lived in the lowlands for several years, not hiking regularly.
But did he have the internal fortitude to handle life in the hills? Outsiders werent always welcomed with open arms, especially by the criminal class hed be dealing with. Most of the people were good-hearted folks just trying to make a living and love their families, but there were enclaves where life was brutal and cruel. Places where children were commodities, women could be either monsters or chattel and men wallowed in the basest sort of venality.
She supposed that was true of most places, if you scratched deep enough beneath the surface of civilization, but here in the hills, there were plenty of places nobody cared to go, places where evil could thrive without the disinfectant of sunlight. It took a tough man to uphold the law in these parts.
It remained to be seen if Doyle Massey was tough enough.
You want to wait? she asked.
No. He gave a nod toward the trail. Youre the native. Lead the way.
Copperhead Ridge couldnt compete with the higher ridges in the Smokies in terms of altitude, but it was far enough above sea level that the higher they climbed, the thinner the air became. Laney was used to it, but she could see that Doyle, whod probably lived at sea level his whole life, was finding the going harder than hed expected.
Reaching the first of a handful of public shelters through the trees ahead, she was glad for an excuse to stop. Shed grabbed some bottled waters from the diner when she and Ivy left, an old habit shed formed years ago when heading into the mountains. Shed stowed them in the backpack she kept in her car and had brought with her up the mountain.
Now she dug the waters from the pack and handed a bottle to Doyle as they reached the shelter. He took the water gratefully, unscrewing the top and taking a long swig as he wandered over to the wooden pedestal supporting the box with the trail log.
She left him to it, walking around the side of the shelter to the open front.
What she saw inside stole her breath.
Laney? Doyles voice was barely audible through the thunder of her pulse in her ears.
The shelter was still occupied. A woman lay facedown over a rolled-up thermal sleeping bag, blood staining her down jacket and the flannel of the bag, as well as the leaves below. Laney recognized the sleeping bag. Shed given it to her sister for Christmas.
Janelle.
The paralysis in Laneys limbs released, and she stumbled forward to where her sister lay, her heart hammering a cadence of dread.
Please be breathing please be breathing please be breathing.
She felt a slow but steady pulse when she touched her fingers to her sisters bloodstained throat.
Laney? Doyles voice was in her ear, the warmth of his body enveloping her like a hug.
Its Janelle, she said. Shes still alive.
Thats a lot of blood, Doyle said doubtfully. He reached out and checked her pulse himself, a puzzled look on his face.
Shes been shot, hasnt she? Laney ran her hands lightly over her sisters still body, looking for other injuries. But all the blood seemed to be coming from a long furrow that snaked a gory path across the back of her sisters head.
Not sure, he answered succinctly, pulling out his cell phone.
Can you get a signal? she asked doubtfully, wondering how quickly she could run down the mountain for help.
Its low, but lets give it a try. He dialed 911. If I get through, what should I tell the dispatcher?
Tell them its the first shelter on Copperhead Mountain on the southern end. Laneys hands shook a little as she gently pushed the hair away from her sisters face. Janelles expression was peaceful, as if she were only sleeping. But even though she was still alive, there was a hell of a lot of damage a bullet could do to a brain. If even a piece of shrapnel made it through her skull
Theyre on the way. Doyle put his hand on her shoulder.
But they couldnt be fast about it, Laney knew. Mountain rescues were tests of patience, and a victims endurance.
Hang in there, Jannie. She looked at Doyle. Do you think its safe to move this bedroll out from under her? We need to cover her up. Its freezing out here, and she could already be going into shock.
She saw a brief flash of reluctance in Doyles expression before he nodded, helping her ease the roll out from beneath Janelle. She unzipped the roll, trying not to spill off any of the collected blood. The outside of the sleeping bag was water-resistant, so she didnt have much luck.
Sorry to ruin your crime scene, she muttered.
Life comes first. He sounded distracted.
She looked up to find him peering at a corner of something sticking out from under the edge of the bedroll. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and grasped the corner, tugging the object free.
It was a photograph, Laney saw, partially stained by her sisters blood. But what she could still see of the photograph sent ice rattling through her veins.
The photo showed Janelle and her two companions, lying right here in this very shelter, fast asleep.
Doyle turned the photograph over to the blank side. Only it wasnt blank. There were three words written there in blocky marker.
Good night, princesses.
Chapter Three
Doyle hated hospitals. Hed visited his share of them over the years, both as a cop and a patient. He hated the mysterious beeps and dings, the clatter of gurney wheels rolling across scuffed linoleum floors, the antiseptic smells and the haggard faces of both the sick and the waiting.
He hated how quickly everything could go to hell.
He sat a small distance from Laney Hanvey and her mother, Alice, a woman in her late fifties who, at the moment, looked a decade older. Mrs. Hanvey looked distraught and guilty as hell.
I shouldnt have let her go camping. It was so stupid of me.
Laney squeezed her mothers hand. You dont want to stifle her. Not when shes made so much progress.
Doyle looked at her with narrowed eyes, wondering what she meant. But before hed had a chance to form a theory, the door to the waiting room opened and a man in green surgical scrubs entered, looking serious but not particularly grim.
Mrs. Hanvey? he greeted Laneys mother, who had stood at his entrance. Im Dr. Bedford. Ive been taking care of Janelle in the E.R. The good news is, shes awake and relatively alert, but shes sustained a concussion, and given her medical history, were going to want to be very careful with that.
Doyle looked from the doctors face to Laneys, more curious than before.
So the bullet didnt enter her brain? Laneys question made her mother visibly flinch.