Chapter 34 Dex
DEX
Turning off the engine, I slid out and crossed to my brother. I could see now that he had one of Orion’s maps on the hood and was marking things off in pencil.
“Orion’s working on an incident-specific map for us, but this is what we’ve got in the meantime,” Kol muttered.
I knew what incident-specific meant: Any and all information that pertained to Nova’s disappearance.
Orion built one for every missing persons case we dealt with.
It wasn’t just things pertaining to the missing either.
Similar cases were also noted. Crimes with any chance of a link to ours.
Suspects’ residences and places of employment.
Orion created intricate, layered maps that he scanned on a massive scanner, and I put them into our team app. We could layer each of Orion’s findings as we needed. And he said it helped him with the geographic profiling of the case.
“You want to hike out and get a feel for the scene?” I asked.
Kol finally looked up. “Yeah.”
As he rolled up the map and put it back in his truck, I grabbed my lightweight pack from my SUV. It wasn’t as if we’d be going far, but you never knew what you’d come across. And the Archer brothers were always prepared. Well, all of us but Mav.
My pack held a satellite phone, a first-aid kit, water, energy bars, bear spray, and a SIG P226. I hated carrying it. Hated the weight it added to my pack. Despised having any sort of gun in my presence at all.
But sometimes you had to face the fear. It was why I’d mastered shooting every type of gun I could get my hands on. Why I knew how to disarm them all in a matter of seconds. Why I’d made sure I understood everything about them.
Because with that knowledge, the gun lost its power. Or at least that was what I’d hoped would happen. But every time I fired one, a flash of memory hit.
Orion squeezing the trigger. The shock on Dad’s face as he stumbled back. The knife clattering from his hand. So much blood.
“You good?” Kol’s voice cut into the memories.
I tightened the straps on my pack. “Yup.”
It was a lie, and we both knew it. But Kol didn’t push. He never did. He simply adjusted his own pack and started for the trail.
Normally, I’d take a second to appreciate the fresh air, the way the trees made an almost tunnel over the path, and the smattering of wildflowers in full bloom. But not today. Today, my head was focused on a missing woman…and on Brae—even if I tried to point it anywhere else.
“How were Brae and Owen this morning?” Kol asked, bringing me right back to the place I was trying to avoid.
But I had to appreciate that his question was a hell of a turnaround from refusing to help and cursing me for wanting to.
But I didn’t mention it. That would just turn Kol into a grizzly with a thorn in his paw.
“Good. Kids are resilient, man. Owen was chatting my head off about backdoors into mainframes and remote access tools.”
Kol chuckled as he scanned his surroundings, always looking for the things I couldn’t see. “Please, do not get that kid arrested for hacking at age eight.”
My lips twitched. “Who, me?”
“Jesus,” Kol muttered.
I laughed.
“And Brae’s holding up?” Kol pressed.
God, he was good. Cantankerous and guarded, but once you got behind his walls, Kol would protect you with everything he had. And Brae and Owen were starting to crack those shields.
“She’s holding it together but trying to hide how much this fucks her up.”
“How could it not?” Kol said, his voice low. “Whoever’s doing this is seriously twisted.”
The words had my heart picking up speed to that anxious, fluttering beat. I had the ridiculous urge to turn around and drive into town just to check on Brae. She’s fine. I spoke the words silently, over and over, until I finally pulled out my phone.
Barely any bars, but I managed to get off a text.
Me
All good?
Wylder
Besides Mav ruffling Aster’s feathers and nearly getting an iced tea poured on his head? Just peachy.
Me
What the hell is wrong with him?
Wylder
Maybe he’s a masochist.
Me
Or he just likes Aster’s brand of pain.
Wylder
Maybe.
Me
Brae’s good?
Pressing for info on her specifically was telling, and I knew it, but I wouldn’t be able to focus if I didn’t ask. And I needed my brain pointed in one direction—one that wasn’t Brae-centric.
Wylder
Your girl’s good. I got her back.
Your girl. Fuck me, that sounded way too good. I shoved the sensation down, locking it away with the stew of emotions I never let myself truly feel—nothing too bad but nothing too good either. I needed to live in the stable middle.
“This is it,” Kol called, looking down at his GPS.
That pulled my head out of my ass and into the present where it needed to be.
Kol pulled out his phone and selected Nova’s bio in our casefile app. It had a handful of photos of her, along with height, weight, and identifying features. Kol always wanted that information fresh because he said it impacted the trail someone might leave behind.
“Brae said she went off the trail toward the water to get a photo of the wildflowers. That’s gotta be here.” I could just make out the pops of peach poppies through the trees. The little bed of them grew in the one patch of unfiltered sunlight a ways up from the riverbank.
It made sense. Poppies needed plenty of sun to grow, and it was rare to find them in forested areas. But these had found a way.
“Let’s find her trail first.” Kol shoved his phone into his pocket and headed for the break in the brush.
A year after the incident, there wouldn’t be anything Brae left behind. There’d been rain, snow, and sun in heavy rotation since then. Wildlife would’ve tracked through. Possibly people, too.
But there were still things Kol would see—stuff the rest of us would miss. He’d told me once that it was like his mind saw all the infinite possibilities and then narrowed them down based on likelihood, as if he were constantly running a math equation.
Kol crouched low before stepping off the path. He cocked his head one way and then the other, taking it all in. He pointed in one direction. “Underbrush is broken down through here. My guess is that more than one person was lured off the trail by the wildflowers.”
Kol led the way, taking note of some broken branches and trampled earth.
We spotted a few slide marks that told us how easy it would’ve been for Brae to slip.
And if Nova had wandered off trail, too, she might’ve fallen into the river.
But it didn’t explain her water bottle in the parking lot or someone having her phone and necklace. It didn’t explain the dried blood.
And it wasn’t logical. If Nova moved off trail toward the river, she would’ve followed Brae. And Brae would’ve heard her.
After studying where the makeshift trail came to an end, we turned around and headed back up the embankment. But as we did, I heard a muttered curse.
Kol’s hand went to the butt of his gun as he put a finger to his lips. He moved stealthily up the trail, then frowned. “Sheriff Miller?”
The man whirled around, his hand going to the butt of his weapon as well, as his mustache twitched wildly. “Jesus, Kol. Make a little noise, would ya?”
Kol frowned as we stepped out onto the trail. “What are you doing out here?”
Miller’s eyes shifted to the side in that cagey way of his, and I thought he’d tell us to get lost or something more colorful. But he didn’t. Instead, he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I fucked up.”
I stiffened, bracing for whatever was to come.
“I thought she was just a flighty tourist, in over her head, and got herself killed. I was wrong. So I’m trying to start from the beginning,” Miller muttered. “Wanted to walk the trail they did to get a feel.”
The same thing we were doing. Because Miller had good skills behind the assholishness. He just needed to be motivated to use them.
“We’re doing the same,” Kol said gruffly.
Miller jerked his head in a nod. “Let me know if you come up with anything helpful. I gotta get back to the station.”
He headed down the trail toward the parking area without another word. I turned to Kol. “What the hell was that? Did Miller grow a heart?”
Kol watched the sheriff go. “I guess miracles do happen.”
* * *
Setting the grocery bags on Brae’s kitchen counter, I slid an earbud into one ear and then hit Anson’s name in my contacts.
“About time,” he answered.
“Nice to talk to you, too,” I grumbled.
“Where were you?”
“Grocery shopping. Are you my jealous husband now?” I sniped.
Anson chuckled. “I think I’ve got all I can handle with Rhodes.”
His soon-to-be wife was certainly a handful, and there was a reason he’d nicknamed her Reckless. But she also lit his whole world.
I started pulling out ingredients for a make-your-own-pizza night. It had been one of my favorites growing up—one of the few memories of my mom I clung to. She made a scoreboard, marking us all on presentation, flavor, and creativity. Now, I’d give that to Owen.
“You have a chance to look at everything?” I asked.
“Going through it all a third time now.” Anson’s brain and Kol’s brain worked in similar ways but on completely different planes.
Kol looked at the physical, nature. Anson looked at the human mind. But they both saw patterns and trails the rest of us missed.
“And?” I pressed.
“I’m not sure.”
I could hear the frustration in Anson’s voice. It was something I rarely had to identify with him because he always had it all figured out. I placed the dough in the fridge and straightened. “Talk it out. What’s holding you up?”
“The victims. There are zero common threads if you look at local missing persons cases.”
I frowned but kept unpacking bags: veggies, pepperoni, hot peppers, olives. “Could one or two of them be skewing the profile?”
One incorrect victim in a pool could send you in a completely wrong direction. A few could be a disaster.
“Maybe,” Anson muttered. “But even if I removed all the males, there’s not a through line with the women. Different ages, races, and hair and eye color. Usually, a serial offender has a type.”
“Crimes of opportunity?” I pulled out the pizza sauce and set it on the counter.
“Maybe. But they’d need a hell of a lot of patience. Typically, that wanes, too. The unsub gets more reckless.”
“Isn’t that what they’re doing now? Calling Brae from Nova’s phone? Leaving the necklace and note? That’s escalation.”
“I guess you do listen to what I try to teach you,” Anson said, a hint of humor in his voice.
I scowled down at my phone. “Fuck off.”
“You’re right. That make you feel better?”
“No. No, it doesn’t.”
Anson sobered. “We’ll figure out who’s doing this. I had a thought. But it’s a risk.”
I straightened, setting down the pack of ricotta. “Tell me.”
“You have that friend who does the podcast. Sounds Like Serial.”
In my work with missing persons, my path had crossed with a true crime podcaster on a mission to give a voice to the forgotten. Ridley Sawyer fought for victims and their families with everything she had.
“What about her?” I asked.
“I wonder if she could do an episode on the case. You know how she does those one-offs between her deep dives.”
“Didn’t know you were a fanboy. Want me to get you an autograph?”
“I’m trying to help your ornery ass,” Anson griped.
“I know. I know. It’s not a bad idea. Could flush out new information.”
Anson was silent for a moment.
I stilled, a weight settling deep. “That’s not why you want me to do it.”
“I think it could spook the unsub, or they could like the attention and want more, do something to get it.”
“You’re trying to get them to make a mistake,” I surmised.
“Yes. But you’d have to keep a close eye on Brae, make sure she doesn’t become a target.”
My back molars ground together. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s your polite way of saying get fucked.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I’ll think about it. And thank you for looking at all this.”
“I’ll keep looking. Maybe I’ll find something new.”
“Yeah. Appreciate it.”
Anson hung up before I could thank him again. He hated gratitude. But when I looked at my phone, I frowned.
It was almost five. Owen had a playdate, so Brae should’ve been home forty-five minutes ago.
A sick feeling slid through me. I called her phone. It rang and rang before going to voicemail. I tried again. Same thing.
All I could think was one thing.
Escalation.