Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(87)

Nolan cursed on the other end of the phone. “So he was raised by his grandparents. The widow knew something was up, and she was covering for him. That’s why she lied to me.”

“That’s speculation, but yeah, that’s what it looks like. You want the rest of this?”

“Yeah.”

“If Bryce has any juvie charges, I don’t have them yet, but from Google, I learned he graduated from high school here in town and got a scholarship to Belleview Bible College in western Tennessee. He didn’t last a year.”

“Expelled?”

“I called the college, thinking maybe I could get something about an on-campus assault, rape, cheating, whatever, but the college would only tell me he withdrew from school for undisclosed reasons. Few months later—this was five years ago—he was arrested in Rocky Shoals Park for illegal camping.”

“Timing works.”

“I know.” Talia flipped a page. “Then he dropped off the radar for a while. Santos has an arrest for him three years later on a DUI in Maverick, near Big Bend National Park. And get this, a ranger out there knows him.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Santos talked to this guy. He caught Gaines sleeping in his car in the park a few times. Felt sorry for him. Helped him get some work inside the park doing odd jobs. Apparently, he was pretty good at the work, because this ranger later recommended him for their summer internship program. He didn’t make the cut, and then he disappeared. This was three years ago. Guy said he hasn’t seen him or heard from him since.”

“Yeah, that’s about when we got him,” Nolan said. “He joined Allen County Search and Rescue that same year.”

“How did that happen, anyway? Doesn’t ACSAR vet its people?”

“No idea. But even if they do, it’s probably not thorough. Illegal camping isn’t a felony. Neither is sleeping in your car.”

“I bet he did some shit at that college, and that’s why they kicked him out.”

“Yeah, well, if it was sexual assault, it probably got swept under the rug and wouldn’t be on record. Anyway, I talked to ACSAR,” Nolan said. “They haven’t seen him since last weekend, when he rescued a pair of dehydrated hikers up in Dove Canyon. Nobody’s heard from him since.”

Talia spotted the turnoff and shifted lanes. “Question is, where is he now?”

“We’re working on it,” Nolan said. “We’re taking this place apart.”

“You got a search warrant already?”

“Exigent circumstances.”

He meant Grace Murray. If there was a chance they might find her alive, they could let themselves in and look around.

“What have you found?” Talia asked.

“So far, zilch. We’ve got a hysterical mutt closed up in the utility room, a car up on blocks in the garage, and an empty house. Elaine Hansen is missing, and so are her other vehicles. We’ve got an APB out for her Volkswagen and the Chevy.”

“I’m almost there,” Talia said. “And be on the lookout for Dax Harper. He’s on his way, too.”

“Tell him to step on it. We need all the help we can get.”

? ? ?

Sara bumped along the gravel road, looking for any sign of a low-water bridge. This was the right place. Had to be. A mile back, she’d passed some pumpjacks and then a sleepy herd of black cows with white stripes down the middle. Oreo cows.

She checked the map on her cell phone. But she wasn’t getting service, and it still wouldn’t refresh. She curved around a bend, and her pulse sped up as a low-water bridge came into view. She followed the dip in the road, then passed through a narrow canyon. As the walls sloped down, she took a hopeful look at her phone. Bars. Finally.

A gate came into view, and Sara pulled over. This had to be the place. She got out of her car and glanced around. Everything looked right—the ground, the trees, the craggy cliffs rising up to her left. There had to be caves nearby, the very caves Will Merritt had written about and possibly where he’d held his victims.

Sara grabbed her phone and called Nolan. It went straight to voice mail, so she searched through her contacts and found Talia.

“Hey, it’s Sara Lockhart,” she said. “I’m trying to reach Nolan. Any chance he’s with you?”

“Yeah, he’s a little busy right now. We ID’d our suspect, and we’re conducting a search of his house.”

“You mean . . . it’s official? You’ve identified Will Merritt?”

“Merritt? No, Bryce Gaines. He’s local.”

Sara’s blood ran cold. She pictured the lanky rescue worker with the friendly blue eyes who’d lent her his rappelling helmet. “Bryce Gaines, the S-and-R guy?”

“Yeah, he’s been ID’d by several witnesses, including a bouncer in Austin. His sketch is all over the news. You didn’t know?”

“No, I—” She glanced down at her phone and saw she’d missed a call from Nolan. Had he gotten her message? She’d told him to meet her here with backup, but it sounded like he was sidetracked. Shit.

“Talia, listen to me. I think I know where Grace is,” Sara said. “I think he took her to a cave complex not far from the park.”

“Where?”