Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(66)

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Sara hunched over the big map, trying to understand all the codes and symbols. She traced her finger over the line that paralleled Highway 12 and then made a snaking connection to Rattlesnake Gorge. The line looked like a creek, but she hadn’t seen it on any other maps, so maybe it had dried up long ago. The reference librarian had warned her this map was forty years old.

Frustrated, Sara slid the map aside and checked her watch. Damn it, she’d been here two hours already. She’d come to the library on her lunch hour, and she’d lost track of time. It was easy to get immersed surrounded by the silent stacks and the musty smell of books.

She grabbed the next map on the pile. This one showed detailed topographical features of Allen and the surrounding counties. This map was newer, and she studied landmarks, trying to locate White Falls Park. She found the highway and traced her finger along it, looking for the turnoff.

The chime of her phone shattered the quiet. Sara stood up, pushing her chair back with a screech as she reached for her purse. The phone chimed again as she dug it out and read the number on the screen.

“Hello?” she answered eagerly.

“Uh, I’m looking for Sara Lockhart?”

“This is she. Is this Will Merritt?”

Students glared up at her from the surrounding tables.

Sorry, she mouthed, grabbing her bag.

“Yeah, I got your message from the other day. Sorry it’s taken a while. I’ve been off the grid.”

Sara hurried past rows of bookshelves.

“Hello?”

“I’m here,” she said. “Thanks for returning my call.”

A librarian shot her a death scowl as Sara strode past the reference desk and pushed through the turnstile.

“Your message said something about an article on caving,” he said. “Who do you write for again?”

“I don’t.” Sara plowed through the glass door and into the sunlight, and the heat slapped her like a wet towel. “I wanted to talk about your article. The one that appeared in Outside.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while,” Will said. “That was back, let’s see, two summers ago.”

Sara swiped at her phone, looking for the bookmarked article. It was all about caving, and the photographs showed caverns as big as cathedrals, with jagged stalactites dripping down from the top. “Actually, it was last March, I believe.” Sara stepped into some shade beside the library and dug a notepad from her purse. “You wrote about various caves in the Texas Hill Country, and I’m particularly interested in the ones near Springville.”

“Springville, Texas.”

“That’s correct. We’re conducting an investigation here into a missing-persons case, and—”

“Wait, who did you say you write for?”

“I don’t write for anybody.” Sara took a deep breath, annoyed that he hadn’t really listened to her message. “Let me back up. I’m a forensic anthropologist with the Delphi Center Crime Lab. One of my cases involves some bones discovered in a gorge not far from the caves you featured in your article. I wanted to know—”

“White Falls Park.”

“Correct.” She slumped against the building. “You remember it?”

“Yeah, I was back down there a couple months ago for some mountain biking. Did a piece for my blog, High Life.”

“Yes, I read it, as a matter of fact. Anyway, these remains were found within the park boundaries, and in your article, you mention that the caves you toured were near White Falls Park, and I wanted to understand where exactly. I’m having trouble locating any maps of the local caves.”

“I’m not sure there are any. Least, not that I’ve ever seen.”

Sweat trickled down Sara’s back, and she glanced at her watch again. She needed to get back to the lab.

“So, how did you learn about the caves?” she asked.

“Some of my biking buddies told me about them. Word of mouth, you know. They’re on private property, so you can’t get to them from the park.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sara jotted the details in her notepad. “How did you get to them?”

“Some locals drove me out there on an old dirt road.”

“Well, do you have GPS coordinates?”

“No.”

“How about landmarks?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some of that recorded on my phone.”

Sara’s pulse sped up. Finally, a lead on the caves.

“I’d have to go back and listen. I do everything audio when I’m climbing or biking. Keeps my hands free.”

“I understand. Would you mind checking? We could really use the help pinpointing a few things. You remember offhand what any of the landmarks were?”

He sighed. “You know, it’s been a while. I remember a couple of those bobbing oil wells.”

“Pumpjacks?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t moving and looked abandoned. And I think we went over a low-water bridge and passed some grazing black-and-white cows. I remember because my girlfriend called them Oreo cows.”

“Your girlfriend was with you?”

“She took the photos they ran with the piece.”

Pumpjacks and Oreo cows. Sara would have much rather had GPS coordinates, but at least it was something.