Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

EMERALD FALLS

Cord met his coworker, Milo, and two other team members at Emerald Falls. They decided to search a wide radius surrounding the falls while ERT combed the area nearest the falls and pond. Although the snow had accumulated to six inches the night before, this morning the sun streaked the sky, and white puffy clouds that resembled cotton candy danced above. The gray clouds were moving north and the frozen ground was starting to melt, creating a slushy mess.

Carrying hand-held radios for communication, they divided the territory into grids, then split up. Cord hiked northeast along the AT. The wilderness was his home and had somehow helped him turn a life around and find purpose when he'd thought he wasn't worthy of living.

The creek water gurgled as he followed it, twigs and sticks that had been torn from the trees last night floating downstream. Weeds poked through the snow as he wove through the thick rows of trees. AT shelters had been built for hikers to seek cover and rest although they were nothing but wooden lean-tos for a person to park a sleeping bag and escape the elements for a few hours.

Except for rodents, the first shelter he came to was empty. He searched for signs of blood in case the killer had come this way but found none. He moved on, scanning the woods and ground as he walked, but the snow had obliterated any footprints that might have been created by the killer.

Another few miles and he reached another shelter. Inside, he spotted a tin can someone had eaten from and the embers of a fire having burned out. No signs of blood though. And no track marks.

If the killer hadn't murdered the girls at the falls, he had to have carried the twins there. Most likely he'd have come on an all-terrain vehicle or used a sled or wagon to transport the bodies.

Unless he'd killed them near the falls and carried them one by one to the ridge.

In the next shelter, he found two teens who'd camped out for the night. They were packing up their supplies and gathering trash from the snacks they'd brought with them.

"You okay, guys?" Cord asked, running his gaze over the teens. No blood on either of them.

"Yeah, we got lost out here last night when the storm hit and took shelter."

"Were you near Emerald Falls?" Cord asked.

"Naw, we never made it that far," the other boy said. "Besides, we've been there before. We were heading toward the old mine but decided to shelter for the night."

Cord knew the area they spoke of. It was three miles east. "Did you see anyone else out here?"

Both boys shook their head and yanked on their gloves. "Why you asking?"

"Two girls were found dead by the falls last night. The killer could still be out here. Head home. If you see anyone, steer clear and call for help."

A sliver of fear darkened the boys' eyes, but they gave a nod.

"We'll go straight back," one of the boys said.

"You have compasses?" Cord asked.

The first boy pulled his from his coat pocket. "Yeah, we can find our way back."

"Be careful. There are a lot of downed trees," Cord said. "Call for help if you need it."

They agreed and set out, while Cord veered in the direction of the abandoned mine. Although deserted, abandoned mines belong to someone and trespassing charges could be enforced; still, curious people were always drawn to explore them.

They also made a perfect place for the homeless or criminals to hide.

The temperature was climbing now, and rays of sunshine flickered off the blanket of white. His footprints created deep indentations in the snow as he hiked, animals skittering through the woods, his boots crunching ice.

Three more miles and he reached the abandoned mine, which was once used for mining precious gemstones. Some said they'd scavenged all the gold there, but others believed rumors that gold was still hidden in the area and came with hopes of getting rich.

Overgrown weeds and brush almost covered the entrance. He studied it and noted weeds had been crushed as if stepped on. Realizing someone might have been inside, he ducked into the narrow space. An animal growled somewhere in the dark narrow interior, and he shined his flashlight across it. He stooped to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling and panned the ground and walls.

Something glinted near a rock and the wall, and he crossed to it and knelt. With gloved hands, he raked dirt to the side and uncovered a hunting knife. More specifically, a River Traders Courer de Bois knife. The larger-sized blade had a slight drop- point profile and was suitable for butchering, skinning and other wilderness tasks. He peered at the blade and thought he saw blood. And tiny hairs.

His pulse jumped. Any hiker or hunter could have dropped it.

But what if the killer had been in here and it belonged to him?