Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(29)

“Also, I keep thinking about the park,” she added. “Lakeview.”

“What about it?”

“It’s basically the opposite of White Falls. No cliffs. No plateaus. No hills. White Falls is rugged and remote, full of hidden canyons and hollows. Lakeview is flat as a pancake. It’s all soccer fields and families.”

“Today is a lot more crowded than usual, but you’re right. It’s generally dog walkers and sports teams.”

“Did Kaylin have a dog?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“I’m looking for a reason she might have been a regular at that park. If her friends were into climbing and hiking, White Falls would have been their place, and I definitely can’t think of why she’d split off from the group and catch a ride over to Lakeview. My opinion? That backpack was planted there as a distraction.”

Nolan didn’t respond, just looked at her. He agreed with her assessment. But investigators had pursued the lead anyway, even giving it enough credibility to drag the lake twice looking for Kaylin’s body. With so little in the way of leads and Kaylin’s family frantic for answers, they hadn’t had much of a choice.

“We’re on the same page,” he said.

She nodded. “What did her friends say about why she decided to split from the group that day?”

“She wanted to go off on her own. She did it a lot, according to them. Luke told her to call him when she was ready to meet up and head out, but she never called.”

“I assume you checked the phone records?”

“The phone was in her backpack. No calls or texts from her to anyone that morning. Her friends said they figured maybe she bumped into some people she knew and caught a ride home or hitchhiked. She did that sometimes.”

“Jesus.” Sara closed her eyes.

“I know.”

“Even so, I can’t see Lakeview Park as her destination. Home, maybe. But not that park.” She dipped a fry in ketchup. “That backpack is almost certainly a plant.”

Nolan looked away. “In the last fourteen months, I’ve been through her case file over and over. Every interview. Every report. I keep trying to find a contradictory statement or a blip in someone’s timeline or, I don’t know, some detail that feels off. Sometimes it’s the smallest thing that breaks a case open. But I keep combing through, and I keep coming up with nothing.”

Sara watched him, and he wondered if he sounded bitter. He wasn’t. But he was frustrated. He’d been trained by Austin PD to be thorough, methodical, and patient in his work, but patience had never been his strong suit.

Nolan watched her as she finished off her fries.

“What?” she asked.

“I keep wondering why you’re here.”

She smiled. “You wanted a burger.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her smile faded, and she looked away. “You know, when I was a kid, I wanted to be in the Coast Guard, like my dad.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“Turns out I get seasick. And then I took my first anthropology class and found my calling. It’s different from what my dad does, but it’s similar, too. The crazy hours. The stress. The grieving families.” Her eyes turned somber as she looked down at her food. “You know, it’s ironic. I work with the dead. That’s my job. But I do it for the living.” She shook her head. “It’s torture for those families left behind when someone goes missing. All those unanswered questions. I’m one of the few people who can help, so I feel this bond with them. An obligation. And I can never seem to shake it. Those cold cases never go away, you know? They’re always lurking in my mind, even when I’m working on something else.”

Nolan stared at her, caught off guard by her words. He knew exactly what she meant. It was as if she was in his head, reciting his thoughts.

She slid her basket away. “So, this cold case you’re working on—I could help, if you like. I know you’re short-staffed.”

“First binder alone would take you all night.”

“Not paperwork. People. We could make the rounds again. Reinterview the friends who were with Kaylin that day.”

He leveled a look at her. “Don’t offer unless you’re serious. I’m liable to take you up on it.”

“I’m always serious. In light of everything new with the bone discoveries, it makes sense to talk to them again. You have any idea where they’d be tonight?”

“What, you want to go now?”

She nodded. “No time like the present.”

? ? ?

According to Nolan, the Swinging R Ranch had once been a thriving cattle operation before the heirs sold off the livestock and turned it into a private campground, complete with bathrooms, rec facilities, and RV hookups. The property was situated beside a high limestone bluff along a scenic stretch of Mesquite Creek.

It was nearly seven when they arrived at the gatehouse. The attendant had a dark braid down her back and a quick smile for Nolan.

“How’s it going, Tammy?”

“Hanging in.” The woman peered through the window at Sara. “Y’all looking for someone tonight?”

“Just passing through,” Nolan said. “We won’t be long.”