“Do you think this could have anything to do with the other disappearances?” Bellamy asks.
I take a long sip of coffee. “I really don't think so. It wouldn't make any sense.”
“Why not?”
“Well, to start with, everybody else was alive when they disappeared. Jake's father very distinctly wasn't. It's like the town is starting to unravel. People are remembering feuds and trying to settle old scores. I'm afraid it's just going to get worse.”
“Where's Jake now?
“He went to the bar. I thought he should stay home and try to get some rest, but he's too worked up. He says being at the bar makes him feel more secure and in control. I guess I can understand that. Working is his normal. He needs that right now.”
“That's definitely the way it was with you when Greg...”
Her voice drifts off, but that doesn't cover up the rest of the sentence.
“Disappeared?” I ask. “It's alright. You can say it. That's what happened. And, you're right. I did the exact same thing. When I found out he was gone, I buried myself in work and did everything I could to not even come up for air. It made it easier to deal with when I didn't have the time or space in my brain to think about what was really going on. I'm sure that's what Jake is feeling right now. He just wants to go about his daily life and try not to dwell. There's really nothing he can do until the police figure out what happened.”
“What about you? What are you going to do? Do you have any other leads to follow?”
“That would imply I had any, to begin with.” I let out a breath and sift through the pictures spread out across the table again. “I'm starting to feel like this is the real reason Creagan picked me to do this job. It's not that he had any faith in me or even that he wanted me to lay the foundation before he sent in the rest of the team. He sent me here because he knows this case is impossible.”
“It's not impossible. Not for you,” Bellamy reassures me. “You're going to figure this out. Just do what you always do.”
“Freak out and try to beat up a suspect in a moving bait vehicle?” I ask with a laugh.
“That was one time. I mean, what you've done since you first started working for the Bureau. Go back to the beginning. See how far you've come, then go from there. I'm sure you've found out a lot more than you think.”
I pick up a picture that's been at the bottom of the stack and stare at it for a few seconds. “You know, Bell, sometimes you really know what you're talking about.”
“What did you figure out?” she asks.
“Nothing. But I have a place to start,” I tell her, standing from the couch and shucking off the blanket.
“Good. Be careful.”
“I will. Call you later.”
I end the call and head into the bedroom to add a layer of clothes on top of what I'm wearing, then stuff my feet into my boots. I send a quick text to Jake, letting him know I might be out of range so he doesn't worry if he can't reach me and promise to drop by the bar later that evening. Using the information jotted on the back of the picture, I pull up a map on my phone, throw on my coat and gloves, and head out.
It's just as cold as it was when I got back from Jake's earlier, but I hope tromping through the woods will warm me up. I could drive. That would be the most time-effective option. But to do that would mean going on the same road I’ve followed countless times during the investigation. Instead, I'm going to walk along the edge of the woods and dip back through the corner of town to the train tracks. Maybe I'll notice something I haven't seen or thought of before.
The drive from the train station took forty-five minutes, but that was because of the strange way the road turned and curved, making the train go well past the town before dropping me off. Using the overhead view of the area on my phone, I trace the most direct way to the spot where the first of the two bodies was found. It takes me a few minutes to get to where my self-designed path begins, and I carefully begin to pick my way through the thickly overgrown woods.
I'm thankful for my thick pants and layers as I delve into the trees. Branches and thorns scrape and cling to my clothes, and I pull my hood tighter to prevent my hair from getting snagged. I've been walking for about fifteen minutes when the trees in front of me thin slightly, and I notice a change in their pattern to one side. I climb through a covering of bushes and vines, finding myself on what looks like an old path. It's neglected and overgrown, but the thick carpeting of pine needles and leaves creates a path several feet wide between the trees.
My instincts keep my feet on it, and I watch my surroundings carefully as I step forward. I strain my neck this way and that, trying to see where the path leads in the opposite direction. I'm tempted to head back in that way, but I decide to turn around and keep going toward the train tracks.
It isn't too much longer that my instincts are proven right. I step out of the trees and onto the gravel barrier before the tracks. I take out my phone and snap a few pictures of the area, including the spot where I emerged from the trees. It isn't a clear mouth to the path. Instead, the trail itself closed in and became less distinct for a few hundred yards, then opened out through an arch between narrow trees. It would be easy to miss for anyone not looking for it or not very familiar with the area.
I'm only a few feet away from the pink marker I found the first time I visited the tracks. Looking to the other side, I note where I parked my car that afternoon. I didn't even notice this path that day. I walked right past it, stood only feet from it, and had no idea it was here. Making my way back to that spot, I look over to the marker.
Out of the corner of my eye, the woods look even and unbroken. Even as I walk up to the marker, I barely notice anything different about the trees. The only reason I can perceive the opening of the path as much as I do is because I know it's there. If I was coming on it for the first time, absorbed in the gruesome sight of a mangled body in front of me, there's no way I would know it was there.
I think back to the notes from the local police’s examination of the crime scene. There was nothing about the path or anything related to it. Of course, not having access to the full investigation notes because of their refusal to cooperate with the Bureau means I don't know everything they found out or are looking into. But I would think if they knew about the path that led into the outskirts of town, they would still have this area marked and under scrutiny.
Unless they already tossed it out as being meaningless. I only found it by chance, and it doesn't seem to be used with any sort of regularity. It wasn't even visible on the map I used to find my way from the cabin. Dipping back through the narrow entrance, I find the path again and follow it back in the direction I came. A chill settles down the length of my spine with each step further down the path, like eyes watching me. I stop suddenly and listen for the sound of anything moving in the trees. The ice on the ground and tightly tangled branches and twigs would make it next to impossible to navigate the area without making some sound. But it's eerily quiet around me.
A sound behind me makes me turn sharply. My own breath creates a white gust in the air, and for a moment, I can't see. The vibrant splash of red in front of me is out of place, but the flutter of the cardinal's wings make it settle into its surroundings. It doesn't move from where it's sitting on the ground, and I walk up to it cautiously. Another frantic flutter of its wings combines with a shrill cry. It's hurt.
Taking off my gloves, I crouch down and carefully scoop the small bird into my palm. As I lift it, I see its foot stuck in something embedded in the leaves. The dirty, rusted buckle comes up slightly when I release the foot, then settles back to the ground. I touch the bird's foot, and it continues to struggle against me holding it but doesn't seem seriously hurt. When I place it back down, the vibrant crimson bird immediately hops away, then flutters into the air. I watch it for a few seconds before turning back to the buckle on the ground.