Chapter 17

Before leaving the police department, I’d pulled Whitlock to the side to discuss his interview with Danny. Whitlock expressed disappointment that Danny had changed his story, but he was glad to hear what we hoped was the truth this time around. Then he excused himself so he could relay the details of the interview to Foley, who was in two minds about how to handle Danny.

As Giovanni and I drove up to the cabin, Whitlock called to inform me they’d agreed not to charge Danny but gave him strict instructions not to leave town.

The winding road to the crime scene offered frequent scenic views of the surrounding area. The sun had just begun its descent, dipping behind the mountains as it offered a soft glow to the start of the evening.

We pulled up to the cabin, and I sat for a moment with the window open, taking in the tranquility—a sharp contrast to what had happened here all those years ago.

When we stepped out of the car, Giovanni stayed in the background, understanding my need to immerse myself in the here and now—and even more important—to the there and then.

In the distance, birds chirped and crickets began their nightly songs. The cabin was surrounded by a variety of trees—oaks, redwoods, and pines, each offering a picturesque, peaceful feeling—a feeling like nothing bad had ever happened there, even though it had.

I took in a lungful of fresh forest air and turned toward Giovanni.

“It’s so calm and tranquil,” I said. “And yet, I can almost feel their spirits all around me.”

Giovanni raised a finger and said, “If you don’t seek death, you won’t die.”

“What?”

“It’s a Chinese proverb. I’ve always taken it to mean if you don’t seek out trouble, trouble won’t find you. Thinking about what took place here, I’m not sure I believe it to be true. They came here to celebrate life, an end of an era following high school graduation and the beginning of a new, bright future. They didn’t invite death. Death invited itself.”

I wanted to believe he was right, that they were, in fact, innocent. I wanted to believe they hadn’t brought their own deaths on themselves in some way.

My thoughts turned toward Xander. Earlier, Hunter had texted me his home address. He still lived in Cambria. I planned on paying him a visit in the morning.

I wondered what he’d have to say about his old classmates.

After all this time, what did he think of them now?

Giovanni wrapped his arm around me. “What would you like to do first?”

I retrieved the case file I’d set on the passenger seat, flipping it open and searching through the pages until I came to the one I was looking for—a handwritten map showing the exact location where the teens were found.

“We’re losing daylight,” I said. “I figure we have a little over an hour to look around. I’d like to go to the places where Aidan, Jackson, and Owen were found.”

Giovanni looked at the map. The areas the teens were found had been circled. Owen was the closest to the cabin, less than twenty feet away from the cabin’s front steps, which made sense. He’d gone out to his car to retrieve something, a task that should have taken him no more than a minute or two.

“Owen was the first one to be attacked,” I said. “I believe it happened right after he opened the car door. According to the police report, blood was found inside the car on the driver’s seat, and there was also a bloody fingerprint on the window. Both the blood from the seat and the fingerprint were a match to Owen. But he didn’t die here at the car, where he was assaulted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Owen was struck twice. The police report states there were distinct dirt marks leading to the side of the cabin, a side that has no windows. Owen must have been dragged there from the car. I assume it’s because the killer wanted to get him out of the way to a place where he couldn’t be seen from the cabin’s front windows.”

I walked to the area where the police had found Owen. There wasn’t much to see. Twenty years ago, there had been a flower garden on this side of the house. Now it was overgrown with weeds. All that remained of the garden were a few empty terra cotta pots and a rusted, red wheelbarrow, which was tipped on its side.

“It’s so different now than it was in the pictures I’ve seen,” I said.

“Time changes everything.”

Indeed.

I glanced back at the map. “Next up is Jackson.”

I pivoted, heading in the opposite direction. Giovanni followed. We hadn’t made it far when I stopped.

“I’m not sure I’m leading us to the right spot,” I said.

“Let me have a look at the map,” Giovanni said.

I handed it to him. While he looked it over, I cupped a hand over my forehead like a visor, turning all the way around as I looked for clues as to where we’d find the place the police had found Jackson.

I grabbed Giovanni’s arm. “Wait a minute. I see what looks like a memorial of some kind. Over there.”

I took off toward a large wooden cross that had been nailed to a tree. Once painted white, the harsh winter weather had not been kind, picking away at the wood-grain layers of the cross, which caused it to split and peel.

In front of the cross, a variety of fake flowers had been stuck into the ground. They, too, looked old, as did all the other trinkets that had been left there, save for one thing—a football. It was in pristine condition.

Giovanni joined me, bending down to examine the mementos that had been placed to honor young Jackson’s life. Weathered photos, a football jersey bearing his number, and a beaded necklace in the school colors, among other things.

“The cabin may not have been occupied all these years, but someone’s been out here,” he said.

“I’m assuming it’s Jackson’s family.”

“The football’s new.”

“I thought the same thing,” I said. “This month marks the twentieth anniversary of their deaths. Maybe someone from his family brought the football in remembrance.”

Giovanni glanced at the cross and then turned toward the cabin. “How far was Jackson from the third kid they found?”

“Aidan was discovered fifteen feet away from here. If it wasn’t dark at the time Cora found Jackson, I’m sure she would have also seen Aidan. She said as much. In the notes from the case file, Harvey mentioned they thought Aidan might have put up a fight against his attacker. It leads me to believe Jackson was attacked first, but he was unsuccessful. It’s a miracle Cora made it out alive.”

“She’s a lucky woman.”

I wasn’t so sure Cora would agree.

“Aidan was the only victim to have skin under his fingernails, hence the reason they think he’d fought back,” I said. “Skin cells can get trapped beneath fingernails, so scrapings were taken and tested with the available DNA technology at the time. None of the testing went anywhere, though.”

“It’s possible the killer wasn’t in the criminal database twenty years ago, but perhaps he is now.”

I was hopeful he might be.

“I need to talk to Silas,” I said. “But I imagine it’s going to be a while before he has any test results.”

I looked around.

Darkness was fast approaching, and with it, the visibility was all but gone.

“Let’s head back to the cabin,” I said. “Since Cora’s family abandoned this place, I imagine there won’t be any electricity. Good thing we brought our own source of light.”

I’d had enough foresight to put a work light that attached to a tripod in the car when I left the office that morning. I’d also grabbed a couple of high-powered flashlights.

We trekked back to the car, removing what we needed, and made our way up the cabin steps.

I reached in my pocket to pull out the key Cora had given me, but Giovanni stopped me, saying, “We don’t need it. The door is open.”

I looked at where he was pointing. The door was a couple of inches ajar.

“Huh,” I said. “How strange.”

I used my foot to ease the door open. The tripod with the work light was in my left hand, and a flashlight in the right. I set the tripod down and turned both lights on.

Looking around, the first thing I noticed was the dust. Every inch of the cabin was caked in it. Old furniture was scattered around, none of it covered or preserved in any way. We’d stepped back into a place that had been frozen in time, a place full of memories, including the last few moments of the teens’ lives.

“The dust is so thick, and the air is stale, I’m finding it hard to breathe,” I said. “I wish we’d come earlier in the day. If there is something to see here, I’m worried I won’t see it.”

“We can always return tomorrow.”

I didn’t want to make the drive again tomorrow, but if I had to, I would.

“Let’s do a quick walkthrough, and then we’ll leave,” I said.

We made our way through the kitchen, crossed the dining room, and entered the living room, where the bloodstains from Brynn and Aubree’s murders were still visible. Standing there was surreal. I thought about how scared they must have been and how alone they must have felt at the end.

A stereo sat on the fireplace mantel. Next to it was a stack of CDs—50 Cent, Avril Lavigne, Eminem, and Toby Keith, among others.

“How are you doing?” Giovanni asked.

“It’s always hard to witness the place where someone died. My feelings are all over the place. I can imagine the excitement they all felt when they first arrived, oblivious of what was to come. It’s a shame. They were all too young to have their lives stripped away at the hands of a psycho.”

A wave of emotion came over me, and I swallowed hard, pushing it down. I was here to do a job. What I needed now was to focus.

“Let’s head upstairs,” I said. “I had a chance to take a look at Cora’s initial statement on the way here. She detailed who stayed in what room.”

We focused our flashlights on the stairs and made our ascent.

The first room we entered was Owen’s. A coat and a pair of socks were sitting on the bed. Hiking boots on the floor. In the ensuite bathroom, I found a pack of gum, a comb, and men’s hair gel. Signs of life in a place that had seen too much death.

We moved across the hall, entering the room Brynn and Aidan had stayed in. It, too, appeared to have remained untouched. Aside from the unmade bed, there were no signs of Brynn and Aidan ever being there. Whatever they had with them that day, it wasn’t here any longer.

I skipped over Aubree and Jackson’s room and focused on the grandmother’s room, the same room Cora had locked herself in while waiting for the police.

The door squeaked as I pushed it opened.

I steadied my flashlight, peered into the room, and gasped.

“What is it?” Giovanni asked. “What do you see?”

I moved the flashlight from left to right and clarity came in the form of words written on the wall in thick red marker:

WELCOME BACK, CORA

GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN