Chapter Five

Shelby sat at a table in a small interview room at the Rayford County Sheriff's Department. Next to her, Sheriff Travis Walker listened to the statement of a witness from the campground where Camille Gregory's body had been found. The sheriff had the most perfect poker face Shelby had ever seen. Tall, dark-haired, looking more like an actor hired to play the part of a county sheriff than an actual law enforcement officer, Sheriff Walker had agreed to let Shelby sit in on the interview. Actually, he had said, "Suit yourself," when she had asked to be present for the interview, and then led the way to the interview room.

Brent Baker shifted in the hard metal chair across from them. He tapped his fingers on the table, tilted his neck back and forth, yawned, then smoothed his hands down his thighs. He reminded her of addicts she had seen, jonesing for a hit, except that Baker looked too healthy to have a drug habit. He wore a tight T-shirt that showed sculpted pecs and abs and moved like an athlete. "I camped out there for three nights, rode some of the backcountry trails," he said in answer to the sheriff's question about what he was doing at the campground. "I ran into Carla, and we started talking." He frowned and scooted his chair forward a couple of inches. "She introduced herself as Carla, though I heard later her name is really Camille?"

Travis didn't deny or confirm this. "What did the two of you talk about?" he asked.

Brent scratched his cheek. "Oh, you know, just what a pretty day it was and what a nice campground. She said she had rented the van and was traveling around, seeing the country. I asked if she biked, and she said no, but she was hoping to do some hiking while she was in the area." Another frown. "I prefer biking to hiking, but I asked her if she wanted to go hiking with me."

"Why did you do that?" Travis asked. A legitimate question, maybe, though it made Shelby want to wince. Brent the Biker was clearly flirting with Carla/Camille and wanted an excuse to spend more time with her.

"I thought she was hot," he said. "I was hoping maybe we could hook up." He glanced at Shelby. "No disrespect meant, ma'am."

She nodded. "I appreciate your honesty."

"Did Carla say anything about where she had traveled from or where she was headed?" Travis asked.

"No. She just said she'd been traveling around. She asked if I lived in Eagle Mountain. I told her I was from Lake City, but I'd spent plenty of time around here."

"Did she act nervous, or afraid of anyone?" Travis asked.

"No. She was pretty relaxed. Friendly." The chair squeaked as Brent shifted again. "She turned me down on the hike, though. Said she would probably leave the next day. Then we started talking about the weather. It was clouding up and the wind picked up, and I told her I had seen a forecast that called for rain. She didn't like that much."

"Did you see her talking to anyone else at the campground?" Travis asked. "Other campers or anyone else?"

Brent cracked his knuckles and scuffed one toe on the floor. "That's why I'm here, right? Right when it first started raining, I came out of my tent to throw a cover over my bike. I looked toward Carla's van and saw this guy running down the road, away from her campsite. I mentioned it to the cop who came around interviewing everybody, and he said I needed to come in and talk to you." He spread his hands wide. "And here I am."

"What did the man look like?" Shelby asked before the sheriff could.

"He was about six feet tall. Kind of thin. He was wearing black pants and a black rain shell with the hood up, so I really couldn't see his face."

"How did he run?" Shelby asked.

Both men stared at her, and she forced herself not to squirm. "Did he have an easy lope, like a practiced runner?" she asked. "Did he do a sort of walk-run thing of someone who's hurrying but doesn't like to run? Or did he run like someone in a hurry to get away?"

Brent nodded. "I get you. He ran like a runner. Long strides, kind of fluid."

"But you're sure he came from Carla's campsite?" Travis asked.

Brent squinted and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm pretty sure. But maybe he was just out for a jog and stopped by her van to tie his shoe. I mean, it was raining, and I just glanced over." He shrugged.

"Had you seen this man at the campground before?"

"I don't think so. But like I said, he had the hood of his jacket pulled up, and he was running away from me."

"Did he have anything in his hands?" Shelby asked.

"Like what?" Brent asked.

"Anything. A knife?"

Brent's eyes widened. "Is that what killed Carla? We all thought it must have been the tree that hit her van, but the article I saw online said she was murdered."

"Did you see anything in the running man's hands?" Shelby pressed.

"No."

"The man ran away, then what happened?" Travis asked.

"I thought I'd go over and talk to Carla again. It was raining a lot harder, and all I had was a tent, and she was in that nice van, so I thought maybe I could talk her into taking pity and letting me in." He smiled in a way Shelby thought might be intended as charming but reminded her too much of the boyish types who hit on her in bars. As if the way into a woman's bed was to make her feel sorry for you. "I was headed over there when a guy drove in and said I should think about packing up and clearing out because there was a flash-flood warning, and if the creek across the road into camp rose, we'd be cut off. Then some other people came over, and we were all debating the issue. Then the first guy said he would go around and warn the other campers, and I went to take down my tent and get everything into my truck."

"Do you know if the first man talked to Carla?" Travis asked.

"I don't know."

"What was the man's name?" Travis asked.

"Sorry, I don't know that either."

"You only saw the running man one time—is that correct?" Travis asked.

Brent nodded. "Just the one time."

"Did you see Carla at all after you saw him?" Shelby asked.

"No. And I never did get around to talking to her again. Then I saw the tree on her van." He grew still, the sudden cessation of movement striking. "I should have gone over and helped her. Maybe if I'd gotten to her soon enough she would still be alive."

"Or maybe not," Travis said.

After a few more questions that established that Brent had no more information to offer, Travis thanked him, and a deputy escorted him out. Travis turned to Shelby. "I read the file you sent over, and I know the basics about why Camille Gregory was in witness security," he said. "Do you think the Chalk brothers found her and had her killed?"

"That is the most likely scenario," she said. "But we can't be sure."

"Maybe some other guy flirted with her, didn't take no for an answer, then stabbed her and ran away," Travis said.

"Maybe," Shelby said. "She wouldn't be the first woman traveling alone who was murdered. But I don't think so. Camille was very aware of her surroundings. She was in good physical condition, and she knew how to protect herself. She had taken self-defense classes, and she knew that as soon as she moved out of our circle of protection, she was a potential target. She wasn't naive."

"And you think she came to Eagle Mountain to see her brother, Zach?"

"She was worried about him," Shelby said.

"Why was she worried?"

"She learned through social media that a man who said he worked for the Chalk brothers came back to the pub six months ago and talked to a woman Camille had worked with. He wanted to know if Zach was with Camille that night. Camille said he wasn't, but she was afraid the Chalk brothers didn't believe that, and they might hurt Zach."

"Did the FBI follow up on this?" Travis asked.

Shelby gave him a look that let him know what she thought of the question. It wasn't as if she didn't know how to do her job. "We looked into it. We found the guy, but he swore he didn't know the Chalk brothers. He said he was a freelance writer, following a theory he had. It turned out to be nothing."

"Maybe he was lying," Travis said.

"Maybe he was." Fear that he was right made her throat tight, so she had to force the words out. "I told Camille what we had learned, and I thought she was calmer, but then she disappeared. She left a note saying she needed to see her parents, but that she would be back soon, and to please not come after her."

"But you did go after her."

"Of course we did. But we went to her parents'. There was no sign she had ever been there."

"What do you know about Zach Gregory?" Travis asked.

"Not a lot. He's two years younger than Camille, but the two of them were close. Her death—or what he thought was her death—hit him hard. He drifted around a lot after her funeral, dropped out of college, took a series of dead-end jobs. Lately, he seems to have turned things around. He started working at Zenith Mine and joined Search and Rescue."

"You kept tabs on him?"

She flushed. "We kept track of all her family, in case any threats to them surfaced. And it made Camille feel better to know they were all right. Despite what some people might think, witness security isn't about depriving people of their liberty or making them miserable. We do what we can to help people adjust."

"If you had a good idea where Camille was headed when she left WITSEC, why didn't you come after her?" Travis asked.

Shelby wanted to snap that she wasn't an idiot, but reminded herself that in his boots, she would have asked the same question. "She misled us. She left things that made it appear she had gone to see her parents. By the time we realized we had been duped and headed here, it was too late." She would never forgive herself for that. No matter what her bosses said about not getting personally involved with witnesses or victims, Shelby and Camille were friends. And Shelby would never stop feeling she had let her friend down.

"Do we need to be worried about these men, the Chalk brothers, causing trouble in Eagle Mountain?" Travis asked.

"I don't know. It depends if Camille was right and her brother had become a target. If they were only after her, you don't have anything to worry about." She hesitated, then added, "I went with Zach to see his parents in Junction last night. I thought a car followed us from Eagle Mountain—a white Toyota. I thought I saw the same car again on the way home, but they turned off and there was never any trouble, so maybe I was wrong. It wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on Zach for a few days, at least."

If he was displeased to hear this, his expression didn't show it. "What are your plans?" he asked.

"The FBI is conducting its own investigation into the murder. I appreciate you sharing the information you've already uncovered. I'll need to talk to more people who might have come into contact with Camille or her murderer. And I'll stay in town long enough to determine if Zach Gregory is in real danger. If he is a target, we'll do our best to protect him." She owed Camille at least that much.

"H EY , Z ACH . I'm really sorry about your sister."

Zach looked up from the ropes he was coiling and saw Sheri Stevens, one of the Search and Rescue veterans who was helping train rookies like him. He hadn't known how to handle these expressions of sympathy the first time Camille died. Four years hadn't made him any better at it. "Thanks," he said and went back to helping to pack the climbing ropes. He braced himself for the onslaught of questions he was sure would come—about his sister, about her murder, about the judge's murder. They had caught him off guard the first time, before and after the trial. Everyone he met back then, from neighbors to news reporters, wanted some scrap of detail from him that would bring the tragedy closer. Why couldn't they understand this wasn't something he wanted to share with anyone?

But Sheri didn't ask any questions, and neither did any of the other members of the team, though several of them asked how he was doing and said they were sorry for his loss. After a while, he began to relax and accept their condolences as sincere.

"Are you up for this?" Danny asked as they prepared to leave for a callout to an ATV accident on one of the Jeep trails.

"I'm good," Zach said.

Danny nodded. "Then let's get after it."

The network of dirt roads that wound through the mountains above town attracted adventurers on dirt bikes and in Jeeps and all manner of four-wheel drive vehicles, but invariably some of them weren't prepared for the steep terrain, tight turns and rough conditions. Zach had already learned that, next to traffic accidents on the highway that led out of town, calls from the Jeep trails were the second most common crises Search and Rescue responded to each summer.

This accident involved a single rental ATV that had rolled on its side. Zach and the others arrived to find half a dozen other drivers and riders gathered around a lanky man with blond hair to his shoulders and a scruffy goatee, who sat on a boulder a few yards from his overturned vehicle. Blood, already drying, trickled from a cut on his forehead, and the right sleeve of his shirt was in tatters where he had evidently scraped it on the rocks. Danny, a nurse, knelt beside the man. "I'm Danny, with Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue," he introduced himself. "What's your name?"

The blond lifted his head to take in the circle of volunteers around him. "Todd," he said. "Todd Arniston. That's Todd with two Ds."

"Let's take a look at that head wound, Todd." Danny, who had already donned nitrile gloves, gently probed the cut on the young man's forehead. "This doesn't look too bad," he said and began to clean the wound. "How are you feeling? Any headache? Dizziness?"

While Danny and volunteer Christine Mercer tended to Todd, Zach and some of the others examined the overturned ATV. An older man wearing an All Who Wander Are Not Lost T-shirt joined them. "I saw the whole thing," he said. "I was waiting my turn to navigate this narrow, rocky section of the trail when he came tearing around the corner. He took that curve on two wheels, and he was going too fast to stay in control when he saw the backup of vehicles here. He lost control in the gravel and went over on his side and skid a long way." The man shook his head. "The whole point of being up here in this beautiful country is to take your time and enjoy the scenery—not race around recklessly."

Eldon Ramsey, one of the group's best climbers, circled the ATV. He looked over at Zach. "This doesn't look too banged up, really," he said. "I bet the two of us could get it upright." Eldon, originally from Hawaii, was as tall as Zach and even more muscular.

"Sure," Zach said. "Let's give it a try."

The others stepped back as Zach joined Eldon on the other side of the ATV. "On three," Eldon said. "One...two...three!" They heaved, and with a groan of springs and metal, the ATV bounced onto its tires. Eldon leaned in and set the brake, then slid into the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine coughed, then growled to life. He shut it off and climbed out.

Todd, on his feet now, walked over to them. Danny had cleaned and bandaged the cut on his forehead and the scrape on his forearm. "Thanks." He shook hands with Eldon then Zach. "What are your names?" he asked. "I want to remember you two." He had a pronounced Southern accent, like someone from Georgia or Alabama, Zach thought.

They introduced themselves. "I can't believe there are people who just volunteer to help others way up here like this," Todd said. "I can't thank you all enough."

Danny shouldered his pack and joined them. "It's a good idea to wear a helmet on these rough roads," he said. "Those side-by-sides will tip over easier than most people think."

"And you need to slow down," the older man who had witnessed the accident said. "You could kill yourself or somebody else."

Todd looked sheepish. "I think I've learned my lesson," he said. "I'll take it a lot slower." He moved toward the vehicle. "I'm just glad I can get this down the mountain without having to pay to have someone haul it."

"Are you sure you're up to driving?" Christine asked.

"Y'all said I didn't have any sign of concussion, and I feel fine now." Todd slid into the driver's seat. "I'll take it nice and slow from here on," he said. "I promise." He nodded to Zach and the others. "It was nice to meet you all. Maybe we'll run into each other in town, and I can buy you a beer." He turned the key in the ignition then gave them a thumbs-up. They all moved back as he guided the ATV onto the trail and puttered down the road.

"Should we have let him leave on his own?" Christine asked as they headed back to the Search and Rescue vehicle.

"I can make medical recommendations, but we can't stop him," Danny said. He stowed his pack in the back of the specially outfitted Jeep used by Search and Rescue. "He'll probably be okay. That knock he took on the head wasn't nearly as bad as it might have been. I told him he should check with his doctor to make sure there's no internal damage, but he probably won't."

"If he does run into trouble, there are plenty of people around who can call for help again," Eldon said. He hoisted himself into the driver's seat. "If it was me, I'd have probably driven down. He'll lose his damage deposit on the rental, but that's probably less than the cost of getting someone up here to retrieve the thing."

"That's the first call I've been on with only minor injuries," Zach said.

"We don't get many like that." Danny settled in the passenger seat, and Christine, Zach, Sheri and Caleb piled in the back. "We see a lot of serious injuries on these trails and more than a few fatalities."

"Were you here when that Jeep exploded?" Christine asked. "I still hear people in town talk about that one."

"That was right after I started." Danny looked grim. "The vehicle rolled three times then exploded. There were five people in it, two adults and three children. Two of the children lived, though it was touch-and-go for them for a while." He shook his head. "The organization paid for a counselor to come in and work with us for a while after that one," he said. "I still think of it every time we come up here."

Zach hadn't responded to a fatality yet. Except for Camille, and she hadn't been the victim of an accident or anything. Seeing her lying on that litter had been surreal. He had thought of her as dead for so long that he still hadn't come to terms with the idea that she had lived another life in the past four years, with a different name, a different job and friends he had never met.

"Dealing with the dead is one of the toughest parts of search and rescue work," Danny said. "But we have resources to help. And if you decide you can't handle that part of it, there's no shame in stepping aside. For me, helping the live victims outweighs the sadness from those we couldn't save."

They murmured agreement. Zach didn't think he'd have trouble dealing with dead strangers, but he wouldn't mind if he had to wait until he had more experience with search and rescue work before he found out.

His phone buzzed with a text message as they pulled into Search and Rescue headquarters.

I need to talk to you. When can we meet? Shelby

He frowned. She had signed her name Shelby . Not Special Agent Dryden . As if the two of them were pals. She had said she and Camille had been friends, but was that true? Shelby Dryden was investigating the Chalk brothers, and Camille had been a witness to a murder where the brothers were present—and probably responsible. The FBI wanted to know everything Camille knew. How could Shelby interrogate his sister and be her friend?

Had Camille told Shelby that Zach was with her that night at the restaurant? Not inside with her, but waiting outside? Had she confided that Zach had seen a man run away from the direction of the restaurant?

Four years ago, Camille had convinced Zach that what he had seen didn't matter. He had managed to believe that right up until the end of the trial, when the Chalk brothers were acquitted of murder. But even then, Camille had pleaded with him not to say anything. "It doesn't make any difference now," she had said. "And if you speak up, they'll kill you. Promise me you'll keep silent. You have to promise me."

So he had promised. He told himself he did it for Camille. So that she wouldn't worry about him. And for his parents, so that they would have at least one child safe and with them. But all this time another thought had festered inside him—the knowledge that as much as he had wanted to protect his sister, he wanted to protect himself more. He was afraid of the Chalk brothers. After Camille had died the first time, supposedly murdered by the Chalks, he had been even more afraid. He had told himself Camille had been right—that his story about the man in the street wouldn't make any difference.

But now Camille had died again—for real this time. Shelby said she had left the safety of her new life to come and talk to him. Someone had found her and killed her. If Zach had found the courage to speak up, would his sister be alive now?

He didn't know how to live with that kind of guilt, but he was going to have to figure it out. He deleted the text message. He didn't want to talk to Agent Dryden. He didn't want to have anything to do with her.