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Chapter Three

Tammy met with Sheriff Travis Walker on Monday morning. When she had first moved to Eagle Mountain, the handsome dark-haired sheriff was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in town. Now the married father of twins, he had a reputation for being an honest, hardworking lawman who had run unopposed in the last election. Not long after Tammy had started work at the newspaper, she had been attacked by a pair of men who had been preying on women in the area. She had escaped unharmed, and Travis had been gentle, but firm, in digging out all the information she could remember about her attackers.

As she waited in his office, she studied the photo of his smiling wife, a baby in each arm. It probably wasn’t easy being married to a man who had to face his share of danger, but Lacey Walker looked happy. Tammy felt a pinch of jealousy as she stared at the photo. She wanted that kind of happiness—that settledness of having a mate who loved you and children who were part of you. So far, that had eluded her.

“Hello, Tammy.” She turned as Travis entered the office. He settled behind the desk, the chair creaking as he sat back. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“I haven’t been here long.”

“I had a copy of the Valerie Shepherd file made for you. There’s not a lot of information here.” He handed a single file folder across the desk.

“I spoke with Vince Shepherd Friday,” she said. “He told me the consensus was that Valerie must have fallen and either been killed instantly or so injured she wasn’t able to cry for help.”

“By all accounts, she was an active, adventurous little girl,” Travis said. “There are a lot of steep drop-offs, deep canyons and unstable rock formations in the area.”

“But if that was the case, don’t you think someone would have found her? According to the accounts I’ve read, there were literally hundreds of people searching for her for weeks. And yet not one item of clothing or any part of her remains has been found.”

He shrugged. “If she ended up deep in a canyon, or in a cave or rock crevice, her remains might never be discovered.”

“What about the other camper who was in the area? A single man.”

“I can only tell you what’s in the file, since I wasn’t part of the force then. The notes you’ll find in there indicate that while Valerie mentioned seeing a man camping a short distance away from the Shepherd family, no one else in the family actually saw him, and no one else we talked to saw him either.”

“Do you think she was making him up? Was she like that?”

“I don’t know. I’m mentioning it as one possibility.”

She opened the file folder and began flipping through the notes and reports inside, scanning each page. She stopped at one report. “This says a deputy spoke to a couple of hikers who saw a man with a backpack in the area. He was alone, and they never saw him again.”

“He might be the man Valerie saw, or he might be someone else,” Travis said. “The department put out an appeal asking anyone who had been in the area that day to come forward, but no one ever did.”

She closed the file and looked at him again. “Were there ever any suspects?”

“None,” Travis said.

“What about the family? Could one of them have done something to Valerie and hidden it from the others? I know it’s horrible to think about, but it does happen.”

“There are copies of interviews with each family member, as well as background information from neighbors and teachers who knew them. Everyone agreed that Valerie was a loved, well-cared-for child. The parents and her brother were devastated by her loss.”

“Whenever I write stories like this, I always hope someone will come forward with new information,” she said. “We usually run a box at the end of the article that asks anyone who might have information to contact the sheriff’s department.”

“I’d be happy to hear from anyone who could shed more light on what happened that day, but I think it’s doubtful that will happen.”

“Probably not. Of course, the main point of the article is to highlight the efforts of search and rescue that day. Can I get a quote from you about that?”

“My understanding is that prior to Valerie’s disappearance, the group was a loose-knit band of volunteers without the formal structure they have today. They worked with local law enforcement, but they weren’t under the direction of the sheriff’s department, as they are today. Today Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue is a professional, highly trained organization I would consider one of the best in the mountain west.”

She scribbled the quote in her notebook. “That’s great,” she said. “Exactly what I’m looking for.”

He flashed one of his rare smiles. “I’m glad I could help.”

She left the sheriff’s department and was walking back to the newspaper office when a voice hailed her. She turned and was surprised to see her younger brother, Mitch, striding toward her. Mitch had inherited their father’s darker, straighter hair, which he wore long and pulled back in a ponytail. Dressed in fashionably cut jeans and a loose linen shirt, he looked ready to make a deal on Wall Street or—a more likely scenario—sell a luxurious vacation home to that Wall Street denizen.

“How’s the real estate business?” she asked as Mitch drew even with her.

“I just came from a showing I hope will result in a sale of a ranch over near the county line,” he said. “Now I have time to kill and thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch.”

“I do if you’re buying,” she said. She nudged him with her elbow. “Seeing as you’re about to earn a big commission and everything.”

“It’s not a done deal yet,” he said. “But I can buy my sister lunch.” He hugged her briefly. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing okay.”

“Not better than okay? Are you still upset about Darrell?”

“No, I am not upset about Darrell.” Not anymore. Breaking things off with him had been the right decision, she knew. He wasn’t interested in ever settling down and she was ready to look for something long term. “Ending things between us was sad,” she said. “But I know it was the right thing to do.”

“You’ll find someone else,” he said. “Maybe a handsome, wealthy, single, straight man looking to make his home in Eagle Mountain will walk into my office this afternoon and I’ll introduce him to you.”

“Please do,” she said, and laughed.

“Where should we have lunch?” he asked.

“Let me drop this off at my office, then you can pick,” she said, holding up the file folder.

He gestured at the file. “Something you’re working on?”

“I’m writing about the search fifteen years ago for a little girl who went missing.”

“How old was this girl?”

“Ten.”

The lines across his forehead deepened. “Why are you writing about something that happened that long ago?”

She explained her planned series of articles focusing on Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue.

“And she was ten, huh?”

“Yeah, I know.” The same age as their older brother, Adam, when he had been killed by a speeding car. “I interviewed the girl’s twin brother Friday. When he talked about feeling lost after she was gone, I knew exactly what he was going through.” She had been nine when Adam was killed, Mitch seven. Young enough to not fully comprehend how someone could suddenly be gone. Old enough to see the way their family changed forever on that day.

“Did you tell him about Adam?” Mitch asked.

“No. It’s not something I talk about with anyone but you.” Her mother, the only parent left now, had long ago stopped talking about her eldest son, the memories too painful.

“Yeah, me either.”

She left the file on her desk; then she and Mitch walked over two blocks to the edge of the park and a food truck that sold tacos and other Mexican street food. She and Mitch had just settled at a picnic table with their purchases when Vince and two other men in the khaki uniform shirts of Eagle Mountain Road and Bridge took their place in line. “Hey, Tammy,” Vince said.

“Hi, Vince. How are you?”

“Can’t complain.” Then he was called to place his order, and he turned away.

“Who is that?” Mitch asked.

“Vince Shepherd. Valerie’s brother.”

“Is he single?”

“Why? Are you interested?”

He made a face. “I was thinking for you.”

It was her turn to scowl at him.

“I’m just saying,” he said. “The two of you seem to get along well.”

She laughed. “Saying hello to each other doesn’t tell you anything about how we’d get along.”

He held up both hands in a defensive gesture. “Don’t blame me for wanting you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” she said. Maybe not the level of happiness she craved, but life wasn’t all bliss and she didn’t expect it to be. She touched her brother’s wrist. “I’m fine, Mitch. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Just don’t go stirring up trouble with this article.”

“Oh, please. There’s nothing about this article that could cause me trouble. I’m not an investigative reporter digging up dirt in a big city.” Maybe in another life, she would have chosen a more exciting career, but being the sole reporter at a small-town paper suited her. It was comfortable and safe, and that’s what she craved—most of the time, at least.

“I DIDN ’ T KNOW you knew Tammy Patterson,” Vince’s coworker, Cavin, said when the three of them were seated at a table a short distance from where Tammy and her friend were eating.

“We’ve met.” Vince poured salsa onto his tacos.

“I heard she split up with the guy she was dating,” the third man at the table, Sandor, said.

Vince stared at him. “How do you know these things?”

“My wife works at the salon where Tammy gets her hair cut. She knows everything there is to know about half the female population in town. And then she comes home and tells me everything.”

“The scary thing is, you remember it,” Cavin said.

Sandor shrugged. “People are interesting.”

“If you say so.” Vince bit into his taco. He glanced over at Tammy. She was pretty, in a friendly, down-to-earth kind of way. All those soft curls. She was laughing with the guy she was with.

Cavin nudged him. “Caught you looking,” he said.

Vince focused on his food once more. “She and that guy look pretty cozy, so I’d say she isn’t available,” he said.

“That’s her brother,” Sandor said. “He’s a real estate agent over at Brown Realty. He helped us find the house we’re in.”

Vince couldn’t help himself—he had to look at the pair again. Maybe a family resemblance was there. Tammy rested a hand on the man’s forearm and smiled into his eyes. He felt a pang. What would it be like to have a lunch with a grown-up Valerie like that? To have someone besides your parents who had known you your whole life, who had seen life from a similar perspective and had the same frame of reference? He would never know.

Cavin shifted the conversation to a discussion of parts he needed to order for one of the county graders, and Vince turned his back on Tammy and her brother. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for relationships. He didn’t like getting too close to people. That was okay. Everybody was different, and he was happy enough. Most of the time.

“A S WE SAY goodbye to our friend Paul, it is with great sadness, as well as gratitude for having him in our lives. Though his physical body is gone from us, his memory endures, and we will hold him in our hearts forever.” The black-suited man from the funeral home who had agreed to lead this graveside burial looked across the open grave at the trio of mourners. “Go in peace,” he said. “And I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Valerie choked out the words, then cleared her throat, pulling herself together. Paul never liked it when she cried. It was the one thing she did that ever made him angry. She turned away, not wanting to see them shovel dirt onto the coffin.

“It’s hard to believe he’s gone.”

She glanced at the speaker—Bill, who had played on the local softball team with Paul. “I guess so,” she said. Though after staring at his dead body, slumped in his favorite chair in front of the TV, she hadn’t any doubts that he had died. An asthma attack, the coroner had said.

“I mean, he was so young,” Bill continued. “Only forty-five.”

Thirty-nine , she silently corrected. But he told everyone he was older because of her. She hadn’t realized herself until she had found papers with his real age on them one day when she was sixteen. It made sense, though. No one would have believed he was her father if they knew he was only fourteen years older. Not that it was anyone’s business.

“I know there’s not any formal wake or anything, but do you want to get coffee or something?”

She stopped walking. So did Bill. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his baggy suit and hunched his shoulders the way tall people sometimes did, as if trying to look smaller. He was thin and bony, and already losing his hair despite the fact that he was still in his twenties. He wasn’t bad looking, but his cloying infatuation with her was grating. “No thank you,” she said. “I don’t feel like company.”

“Well, sure. Of course.” He took a step back. “Maybe another time.”

She walked alone to her car and drove back to the house that had been home the past fifteen years, in a drab suburb of Omaha, Nebraska. She had been happy here while Paul was alive. Happy enough. Happy as a person could be who had been abandoned by the people who were supposed to take care of her. As Paul had often reminded her, she was lucky he had come along when he did, to look after her.

But now Paul was gone. She had no one.

She was alone now. Free to do whatever she wanted. Paul had left her a little money—several thousand in cash he kept in the safe in his bedroom closet, as well as the house and ample funds in the bank accounts they shared. She would take that money and spend some time making things right.

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