Hood, were shot and killed at their campsite near here.”
“Shot? I don’t understand? Was it hunters? Some kind of accident?”
“It wasn’t an accident. Did your sister and her husband have any enemies? Anyone who would have wanted to kill them?”
“No! Are you saying they were murdered? While camping?”
“That’s what it looks like. Do you know why they were here?”
“They bought the land a few weeks ago and wanted to spend some time on it. They said it was really beautiful up there. Who killed them?”
“We don’t know yet. Did either of them mention having an argument or disagreement with anyone? Did they mention arranging to meet someone up here?”
“No. It was just a quick trip to get the lay of the land and make plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“Casey!” She choked out the word. “What about Casey? Is she all right?”
“Who is Casey?” Gage asked.
“Their daughter. My niece. She was with them. Is she all right? Did whoever do this kill her, too?”
Gage felt as if someone had reached into his chest and grabbed his heart and squeezed. “You’re sure she was with them? How old is Casey?”
“She’s five. And yes, I’m sure she was with them. You didn’t see her?”
“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bring his memory of the scene at the camp into focus. No child’s toys scattered about. Sleeping bags and tote box in the tent. Some clothing—maybe something pink, but at the time he had assumed it belonged to the woman. Women wore pink. But now that he thought about it again, the T-shirt had been a little on the small side for Angela Hood. “You’re sure your niece was with her parents on this trip? Maybe they left her with friends or a relative.”
“They wouldn’t do that. Or if they did, I would know about it. If they needed someone to watch Casey, I would do it.” Her voice rose, pinched with agitation. “What’s happened to her?”
“I promise I’ll find out. I have to go now, but I’ll call you back as soon as I know something.”
Fighting a sick feeling in his stomach, he hit the speed dial for Travis again, even as he started the SUV. “Those two murder victims up here?” he said as soon as Travis answered. “They had a kid with them. We’ve got a missing little girl.”
Maya Renfro gripped the steering wheel of her Volkswagen Beetle so hard her fingers ached, and depressed the accelerator until she was doing eighty. The roads were dry and clear and if highway patrol stopped her, she’d give them Deputy Gage Walker’s number and tell them to take it up with him. Her sister was dead and her niece was missing, and every movement felt as if Maya were swimming through quicksand.
This had to be a bad dream. Real life couldn’t be this horrible, could it?
But of course it could. You didn’t teach high school for four years without seeing a little of that awfulness—kids kicked out of the house while they were still in their teens, colleagues who died of cancer, budget cuts that sliced into the most meaningful programs.
But life that bad had never happened to Maya before. It shouldn’t happen to Angela—or to Casey.
She fought back tears and gripped the steering wheel even harder. She had to keep it together. When she got to Eagle Mountain, she had to be there for Casey.
The cop on the other end of the line—Gage Walker—hadn’t even known Casey existed. How was that possible? Angela and Greg never traveled anywhere without a whole carload of kid gear. Not to mention both their phones were full of pictures of Casey, from newborn right up through her fifth birthday party two months ago.
Maya had been at that party. She had brought a tiara for Casey to wear and the little girl had been thrilled. The screen saver on Maya’s phone was a picture taken at the party, of her and Maya grinning for the camera.
Casey had to be okay. She had to be.
As soon as the news of Angela’s death really began to hit her, Maya had tried to call the cop—Gage—again. The call had gone straight to voice mail. Instead of leaving what would probably have been a hysterical message, she left an aide in charge of her sixth period class, let her principal know she was leaving and why, and rushed home to throw a few things in her car and head for Eagle Mountain.
By the time Deputy Walker had called her back to tell her Casey was missing and they were making every effort to find her, Maya was already speeding toward Eagle Mountain. She didn’t know much about the town—it was in western Colorado, apparently located in a beautiful area that attracted lots of tourists. Angela and Greg had raved about the place, both so excited over the mining claims they had bought and their plans for the property. “If this works out, we’re thinking of moving to Eagle Mountain,” Angela had said at dinner the night before their trip.
“You should come with us,” Greg said as he passed Maya a bowl of steamed broccoli. “You could get a teaching job there, I bet.”
“You really want to live in a small town?” Maya was incredulous. “Why?” Small towns, by definition, were small, which to her meant limited opportunities, limited entertainment options and maybe even limited thinking. “You have everything you could ever want here in Denver.”
“Eagle Mountain is the perfect place to raise kids,” Angela said. “If we’re going to relocate, now’s a good time, before Casey has really settled into school.”
Maya wasn’t so sure about that. Wouldn’t kids get bored way out here in the middle of so much nature? Everywhere she looked she saw endless fields, soaring mountains, colorful rocks, rushing streams and vast blue sky—but not many people or buildings. What did people out here do for excitement and entertainment?
How was a five-year-old girl going to survive alone out in all this emptiness?
By the time she turned onto Eagle Mountain’s main street, she was exhausted from grief and strain, her stomach in knots with worry over Casey, and in no mood to deal with any slow-talking, easygoing backwater cop, which was the only kind she expected to encounter here. After all, if a man had any real talent and ambition, wouldn’t he opt to go someplace with a little more action?
The first person to acknowledge her when she walked through the door of the Rayford County Sheriff’s Department was a white-haired woman who wore purple-framed glasses and earrings shaped like pink flamingos. “May I help you?” she asked, eyes sharp, expression all business.
“My name is Maya Renfro. I’m looking for a Deputy Walker.”
Any hardness melted from the woman’s face. She jumped up and moved toward Maya, hand extended. “You’re the sister. We’ve been expecting you. I’m so sorry for your loss. Such a tragedy.” She ushered Maya to a small office down a short hallway. “You must be worn out. Everyone is out looking for your niece, but I’ll call and let Gage know you’re here. I’m Adelaide,
