When You See Me (Detective D.D. Warren #11)(22)

“Understood.”

“It’ll change our timeline for the human volunteers,” the sheriff continued. “I can’t even have them outlining the search grid, because again, that’ll contaminate the area.”

Kimberly nodded.

“So I figure me and one of my deputies will head up with Dennis at oh dark thirty tomorrow. Two hours later, the rest of you can follow.”

“I’d like to hike up with the dogs.”

Smithers shrugged. “You can, but bear in mind, the search crew needs a voice of experience. I got one good deputy. I don’t have two.”

In other words, the sheriff was suggesting they divide and conquer. He’d handle the canine efforts. She’d handle the human efforts. Dogs moved way faster—and deeper—into the woods than the humans could. Fair enough, Kimberly figured.

“You have a checklist operator?” Kimberly asked. Keeping track of all the searchers was half the battle. Kimberly hadn’t done such detailed fieldwork in a bit. But being the one who now read all the reports, there was nothing worse than a massive search area where half the grids went untended or un-annotated. Details mattered, and tomorrow would be an intense exercise in logistics.

“Franny, my receptionist.” Smithers jerked with his chin toward the front of the building. “She’s good. Grew up in these mountains, knows everyone’s business, and exactly how to put the overexcited, not to mention the just plain stupid, in their place.”

“She appears formidable,” Kimberly agreed. “She’s okay with having to manage her own neighbors? That can’t be easy.”

“It won’t be a problem. I’ve known Franny for nearly thirty years, starting when I was just a deputy. She worked as a waitress at my favorite diner. Got herself knocked up. Probably by some married tourist, but she never said. Back in those days, being a pregnant teen wasn’t easy, especially in these parts. But she kept her head high, no matter the gossip. Did her job. Managed nosy friends and judgy neighbors just fine. Unfortunately, her baby didn’t make it. Stillborn. Within a matter of weeks, Franny was back at work, pouring coffee, clearing tables. Next time I was in, she looked right at me. ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘I reckon I’ve made enough mistakes for a lifetime. Now I’m ready to work hard, build a life. What do you suggest?’ I told her to get her GED, then come find me. And she did.”

“Impressive,” Kimberly agreed.

The sheriff nodded, leaned back in his chair. “I was thinking we should start the searchers at the bottom of the trail tomorrow. Sure, the body was found a mile up, but nothing saying there aren’t bones to be found further down. Don’t want us to get tunnel-visioned.”

“The killer wouldn’t want to dump remains too close to civilization. But the raccoons probably aren’t so worried?”

“Exactly.”

“How many people?”

“Three dozen. Mostly from around the mountains. Some are experienced search and rescue, we get lost hikers often enough. Of course, you’ll have a few coming for the show.”

She knew what he meant: people drawn by the sensational nature of a body in the woods.

“But we got some solid hiking guides, local hunters. They know this area. Where humans and animals are prone to wandering.”

Sounded good to Kimberly. She rose to standing. “I’ll meet you at the trailhead, five thirty.”

Smithers nodded. “I read about your father,” he said abruptly.

“Everyone knows my father.”

“Big shoes to fill.”

“Then it’s good I have a solid head.”

“And the Boston detective and two civilians?”

“I’ve worked with them before. They’ll pull their weight.”

“Even the vigilante?” he asked dryly. “I might live in the sticks, but I got Google, you know.”

Kimberly had to laugh. “Flora’s intense. But she knows things no one else knows. And if this case does tie to Jacob Ness . . .”

The sheriff nodded slowly. “The thought of him, operating in my backyard. Maybe even living here, because that’s what you think, right? That maybe he had some kind of cabin, safe house in these woods.”

“You’re a smart man, Sheriff Smithers.”

He considered her shrewdly. “As much as it turns my stomach to think of a man like Ness prowling my county, the alternative . . .”

That it wasn’t a stranger at all, but a local who’d buried Lilah Abenito’s body. Someone who knew the area and had ties to the community. A neighbor, given an area this small. Maybe even a friend.

Kimberly didn’t offer him any words of comfort, because in that case, there would be none to say.

Instead, she extended her arm. A final handshake, and they were done.





CHAPTER 10





FLORA





I CAN’T SLEEP. I HARDLY do even when I’m home. It’s one of those things the docs tell you will pass. Night terrors, insomnia, an over-pumped adrenal system that keeps me constantly on edge. One day it will ease. I’ll sleep an hour more here, an hour more there, till eventually, voilà, I’m a real person again.

It hasn’t happened yet.

I pace my hotel room, roaming from cheap chair to funky curtains to minuscule kitchen banquette. I try sitting on the edge of the bed. Then standing next to the window. Lights on. Lights off. TV on. TV off. Up, down, and around again.