Chapter 6

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

Staring at a decapitated corpse managed to curb my appetite right past lunch and well into dinner.

I'm not a novice when it comes to corpses, but I'll admit, seeing that poor woman lying in pieces was gut-wrenching.

I kept seeing Erin's face, Erin's body in her place. For all I know, Erin could be a Jane Doe Number One with a toe tag stuck in some county morgue. And boy, was I tempted to start opening and closing those refrigerated drawers at the coroner's office at random. It took everything in me to stop from shoving a picture of my sister in the coroner's face.

But I know all too well that corpses rarely resemble the smiling faces frozen in a snapshot. Besides, I didn't want Jack Stone gawking at my grief. And I do grieve my sister even though I refuse to believe she's gone.

A thought comes to me. Rob has evidence of her from just three months ago at some liquor store out in Elmwood.

I wince at the thought.

Elmwood isn't too far from here, but it's the seediest town in all of Colorado. The only things I associate Elmwood with are crack whores and the crack addict boyfriends who pimp them out. I doubt anything good has ever come from Elmwood, and I'd hate to think that Erin is stuck in some seedy motel turning tricks for her next hit. If that's true, then she needs me more than ever.

The last we heard from her was about six weeks after she took off. She sent a message to the group chat with my mother, my sister Riley, and me that simply said, I don't want to be found. Nothing more, nothing less.

Speaking of Riley, she texted before I left the coroner's office and said she had a big job out in Denver that would bleed into the evening. She promised we'd get together soon enough.

I pull into the Whispering Woods' enclave of cabins that are scattered throughout a rugged landscape brimming with evergreens. Pine Ridge Lake sits to the right, and some of the more expensive rentals have a decent view of the water. That's exactly what I paid for.

I've made a few nickels working for the feds, and seeing that I'm lousy at spending it on myself, I thought I'd splurge when it came to housing. But now that I'll have to repeat the monetary offence once a month, I'm starting to have renter's remorse.

My cabin is a two-bedroom beauty that looks as if it was crafted entirely out of Lincoln logs. I wheel my suitcase up the gravel driveway and to the porch, before letting myself in to find an idyllic cozy cabin furnished with a plush gray sectional that faces a TV big enough to outfit a drive-in. The floors, the walls, the dining room table, and the coffee table are all fashioned from honey-stained pine. The living room opens up to the dining room and kitchen. The cold white marble counters look shiny and new, the cabinets match the floors, and the appliances are gleaming stainless. If I knew anything about a kitchen appliance, I'm sure I would be impressed.

I give a quick glance in the bedrooms, one double-wide bed, one queen. The property management company assured me that everything had been laundered and is ready to go. A washer-dryer combo sits in an alcove in the hall. There's a shared bathroom, one for the whole place, and that's more than enough for me.

The view of the lake is from the rear and the bedroom window. But outside of the view to the lake, it was the hot tub sitting out back that sealed the deal. In fact, a nice long soak in a boiling cauldron doesn't sound half bad right about now. Just thinking about it relaxes every inch of me.

A knock erupts at the door and my muscles tense right back up again.

"It's Stone," a deep voice gruffs.

That's right. I seemed to have acquired Jack Stone as both a co-worker and an obnoxious neighbor.

I head to the door to let him in and am more than surprised to see Nikki right there with him.

She's traded her pantsuit for yoga pants and a T-shirt, and her crimson locks are piled on top of her head. Jack is still wearing his suit, and in his arms he's carrying a pizza with a hot pink box on top of that with the word donuts stamped over it.

"Pizza and donuts?" I muse as the two of them file in.

"Clearly, he's not interested in meeting our nutritional needs," Nikki says as she takes in the place.

"Hey, I'm interested in meeting the needs of women," he quips as he lands the food on the coffee table. "Just not the nutritional variety."

"Oh, he's funny," I say, shooting Nikki a look.

She nods. "About as funny as the rest of the men on the team. Welcome aboard, Baxter." She pulls a few water bottles out of her tote bag. "I brought the libations."

"Thank you." At least those I approve of. Heck, I approve of the pizza and donuts, too. I haven't exactly been meeting my nutritional needs either.

Jack does a quick search of the inside of the cabin as if he were hunting down a criminal before peeking out the back slider.

"Sweet," he says. "Looks like we've got a hot tub. Can't wait."

My mouth opens for a moment. "It looks like I've got a hot tub," I correct him before looking over at Nikki. "You're welcome to try it out any time."

"What about me?" Jack says as they settle onto the sofa and I dig out a few paper towels to accommodate us.

"I wouldn't hold my breath for an invite."

The three of us dive into the pizza first, pepperoni with sausage. It's from a place called Luigi's that I used to live off of. Extra cheese is just a part of the recipe. They're not shy with the pizza sauce either, and lucky for me, it has just the right tang.

"Oh, I've missed Luigi's," I moan through a bite. "They have the best pizza in all of Pine Ridge Falls."

"All of Colorado," Jack says before taking a bite that encompasses half the slice in his hand.

"What brings you to Pine Ridge?" I ask while balancing my pizza with the remote and turning on a basketball game on low volume.

"It's not Elmwood," he says. "That's where I grew up. My family is still there."

And I'm back to wondering if anything good can come from Elmwood.

"How about you, Nikki?" I ask.

"Other side of the falls," she says, taking a quick sip of her water. "I'm up in Silver Peak."

Silver Peak is less than a ten-minute drive, and it has less of a rural appeal than Pine Ridge Falls since the town was highly redeveloped about fifteen years ago. It's a polished stone in a sea of untamed wilderness.

"Well"—I say, toasting her with my pizza—"everyone knows Silver Peak has better coffee."

We share a quick laugh before scarfing down two-thirds of the pizza and half of the donut box before busting out our laptops.

"So what did you do before deciding to join the FBI?" Nikki asks, glancing my way. "I worked cybersecurity in the medical system."

"Homicide detective," Jack offers as the two of them zero in on me, awaiting an answer.

"I actually—I have a couple of distant relatives in the force and they inspired me. One was a behavioral analyst for the FBI and the other is a judge up in Vermont. I got my bachelor's in criminal justice and my graduate degree in forensic psychology." I tell them. "Then I went on to work as a criminal analyst for a few private investigators. There were three. It didn't pay much and every case revolved around a cheating spouse."

"I'm impressed," Jack says, holding my gaze a second too long. "All right, Nikki Knight." He nods her way. "What did you get from forensics?"

"The victim's prints yielded the jackpot this afternoon. Her name is Emily Gannon. She was twenty-seven years old. A graduate of Colorado University who majored in journalism. No job history to speak of. Her social media presence was hit-and-miss before she stopped indulging a couple of years back. Someone named Linda Gannon has left an entire slew of messages begging for Emily to speak with her. And judging by all of the pictures of Emily on Linda's social media, Linda is the mother."

"Good work," Jack says, his fingers tapping away at his keyboard. "I'll track down an address."

"I'll probably beat you to it," Nikki says, tapping away at her own laptop at twice the speed.

I head to my emails to send Rob a message about those cold cases, and there's already a message from him waiting for me. I open it up, and the information I want is just within reach.

"I just got a link to the case files of those cold cases Rob is working on," I say. "I'll forward it to both of you." I do just that, and soon the three of us are knee-deep in corpses and a hotbed of hopelessness.

I click on the first case file and begin to read. "Bill Atwood."

"White male, twenty-six," Jack takes over. "No employment history to speak of. Throat slashed, most likely from behind."

"The other three are all women," Nikki says while slipping a pair of reading glasses on. "Melissa Kilpatrick, twenty-nine, strangled and found in the brush out on the Devil's Peak Trail. Janelle Medina, thirty-two, died from a nasty gash on her head, found naked in the woods out in Evergreen Pass. And then there's Brandy Richardson, twenty-eight. Throat slashed, body discovered on a trail in Shadow Valley."

Jack tips his head a notch. "That's a lot of trails. Were they hikers?"

"Let's dig into the notes," Nikki says and we do just that.

We comb through pages of interviews, ranging from family and friends, but there's nothing remarkable in them. Bill Atwood would rather play his guitar than hold down a job. He drifted from one nightclub to the next. Melissa Kilpatrick was a free spirit who loved art and animals. Janelle Medina used to work as a ranch hand. And Brandy Richardson waited tables for a short time at the wildlife park downtown.

"None of them were married," Jack points out.

"None of them had any children according to the notes either," I say. "They have that in common, I guess."

"They have something else in common," Nikki says. "None of them were buried."

Jack and I exchange a glance.

"She's good," I say.

"I'm good," he counters as he frowns at his laptop. "I just got the address to Emily Gannon's mother's house. We can hit that tomorrow."

"You two hit it," Nikki says. "I'm going to pull the coroner reports for our new dead friends."

"Thank you," I tell her. "And I know Rob would thank you, too."

"He can thank me with dinner," she says, collecting her things. "He's a cutie."

She takes off and Jack closes his laptop as well. "Welcome to the neighborhood, Baxter," he says, making his way to the door and I walk him out. "There's one thing to remember in our line of work"—he says, turning back—"the monsters don't always lurk in the shadows. Some of them walk in broad daylight."

I know it all too well.