Chapter 12

TWELVE

“I recognize this place,” said Gretchen.

A light breeze cooled Josie’s face. The heat was still cloying and here, in this empty dirt lot, overgrown with weeds, the sun was relentless. Shading her eyes with one palm, Josie watched the ERT circle Sheila Hampton’s Hyundai. According to the Bluelink representative, the car had been parked in this lot since tenthirtya.m., six hours ago. Given how soon after Cleo’s abduction it had been dumped there and how long it had been sitting in the lot, Josie was certain they weren’t going to like what they found. Still, she, Noah, Gretchen, and a half dozen patrol units had nearly broken land speed records to get here. Turner stayed back to prepare the warrants for Cleo Tate’s phone.

The car was empty. Everyone had held their breath as the trunk was opened. It held nothing but a spare tire. Their relief was palpable but then came more anxiety. Where was she?

The initial search of the area around the car turned up nothing. Even though they hadn’t found Cleo’s body, Josie still had the sinking feeling that they were too late to help her. Now, they had to hope that her abductor had left something behind that would enable them to identify him and locate her.

“We’ve been here before,” Josie said. “The West Denton Five case.”

Gretchen spun slowly, taking in their surroundings again. The massive tract of land they now stood on was directly across the street from a line of houses. Tall trees blocked the residents’ view of the lot. It was accessible only through a narrow opening in the forest, large enough to accommodate a truck. Josie remembered the place as soon as they pulled up and saw the giant sign along the road that read “Land for Sale. Fifty Acres,” with a commercial realtor’s phone number beneath it. The text was significantly faded from the last time they’d been here.

“Right,” Gretchen said. “We found the body of that missing woman and then that kid almost ran us down in her dad’s truck. Nothing built here since.”

“The developers must still be fighting with the civic association,” Josie said.

“You think this could be where the polaroid was taken?”

“Possibly, although the photo looks like it’s taken next to water. This has been abandoned long enough that there might be standing water.”

“How far are we from the Tate home?” Gretchen asked.

Josie calculated the distance and time in her head. “Five or six miles. You’re wondering if this location eliminates Remy’s involvement? Depends on what we find here, although to get over here and back to his house by the time Turner showed up? Acting alone, I don’t think he could pull it off.”

“He could have had help. We shouldn’t discount him. Especially if he’s not able to provide an alibi.” Gretchen turned in the direction of the street. Although the trees blocked most of the view of the residences, there were small breaks in the foliage that gave them glimpses of a driveway or yard. “If I recall, none of those houses across the street have cameras.”

“I told the canvassing officers to ask anyway.”

“We need a geofence. You want to call the jackass, or should I?”

Josie watched as Noah moved around the scene, speaking with an ERT officer and then giving instructions to a group of uniformed officers. “The jackass is on a roll with warrants today. I’ll call.”

As the officers dispersed to do a wider search of the lot, Josie called Turner and requested that he prepare a geofence warrant. For once, he didn’t complain. Maybe it was just because he got to be in the air-conditioned office while the rest of them sweated their asses off in the field.

A geofence was a relatively new tool available to law enforcement. It allowed police to draw a virtual border around a particular geographic area. Then they could track which smart devices, including cell phones and vehicular infotainment centers, were inside that area during a specific period of time. Law enforcement had first started using geofence warrants in 2016. Many people had protested against the use of them, arguing they constituted an invasion of privacy. In response to that, Google had recently changed the way it stored users’ location history, making it more difficult for law enforcement to use geofence warrants. However, the practice was still legal in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. It was worth a try.

After hanging up with Turner, Josie called their K-9 unit which consisted of her former fiancé, Luke Creighton, and his bloodhound, Blue. They weren’t officially employed by the city of Denton. Luke worked for a nonprofit that provided search-and-rescue dogs to police departments that could not afford their own full-time K-9 units at a nominal cost. Fifty acres was a lot of ground for Denton PD to cover on foot. Blue would be able to scent the passenger’s seat and hopefully follow Cleo’s trail from there. He’d also be able to track the killer.

She hung up just as Noah approached. “That was Luke. He said they can be here in twenty minutes.”

“Great.”

Josie could tell by his pinched expression that nothing he’d learned so far was good news. “What is it?”

“No one saw anything. There are no cameras across the street. Canvasses turned up nothing.”

“We’ll still have the geofence,” Josie said. “Turner’s working on it now. Anything in the car?”

Noah used his forearm to wipe sweat from his brow. “If you mean blood, signs of a struggle, no. They’ll impound it and process it to see if they can pull prints but that’s going to take time.”

Beyond the Hampton car were piles of dirt, now covered with brush, some as high as a house. The rest of the acreage appeared to be forested. Josie tried to put herself in the abductor’s place. He’d successfully kidnapped Cleo Tate and immediately brought her here. He’d managed to do it before her photo or the information about the car went out to the press. He could have lingered here for an hour, maybe two. Josie hated to think what he might have been doing to Cleo during that time. If he’d ultimately decided to kill her, the most logical next step would be to walk her out into the middle of the nearby woods, potentially sexually assault her—if that was his intent—take her life, leave her body, and exit on foot.

Noah, who had an uncanny ability to read her mind, said, “I’ve already got units out to canvass the streets surrounding the property in case he left on foot. Josie, we’re at a standstill. I think you should go home. You’ve been at this all day. Gretchen and I have it from here. I’ll send Turner home, too, once he finishes the warrants.”

“Noah.”

She didn’t need to say it. They both knew that there was a very high probability that Cleo Tate was already dead. It was just a matter of how quickly they found her and whether the killer had left behind enough evidence for them to make him pay for his crime. With or without Josie’s presence, the outcome would be the same. As usual, she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to see this through, sleep and nourishment be damned. But she knew she’d only hurt the investigation and the entire team if she pushed herself too hard.

“If you find something?—”

“I’ll call you,” he promised. “I’ll keep you updated. Your sister and Drake are at the house. Your parents are coming over as well. You should go home and see them.”

At some point, she’d have to tell him Drake’s news. “I’ll see you at home.”