Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Vance
A snowmobile. Claire was convinced that was how Katelyn’s body had gotten into the park. I was starting to think she might be onto something.
There wasn’t much security for the area, but they did have cameras on the gates along with a timestamp record of every time it opened.
Between March thirteenth and May fifteenth, the gate had only opened a handful of times, and each incident had been connected to specific work being done at the park.
I got the names of every contractor and employee who’d been on site.
It was possible one of them was our killer, that they’d brought Katelyn there and dumped her body hoping the animals would take care of it before the park opened.
That would have been risky though. You never wanted a body to be found somewhere connected to you.
After talking with the park director, I had Claire walk me through the campground and show me trail connections and possibilities.
She knew the place like the back of her hand.
We tossed ideas back and forth, running different scenarios, and I was surprised to find how much I enjoyed working with her.
We ended up back where we’d started, standing at the top of the embankment that led to where we’d found Katelyn.
“There are far better places here to dump a body,” I said.
“Definitely,” Claire agreed. “And I haven’t even shown you everything. There are some places here where she would never have been found.”
I chuckled. “Do you spend a lot of time thinking about where to hide your victims?”
“The opposite, actually.” The weight of regret was in her voice.
I turned my head, looked at her. She stared down the slope with a troubled look on her face.
“Your SAR victims?” I asked.
She swallowed hard. “Yeah. We don’t lose people often, but… Man, it sucks when we do.”
I stayed quiet, giving her space to keep going.
But she squared her shoulders and turned the conversation back to Katelyn. “This is the Bighorns. Most beautiful place on earth, if you ask me. But unlike Glacier and Yellowstone, you can hike for days here and not run across another human being. There’s a million places to hide a body. Why here?”
The answer came to me quickly. “Because it was easy.”
“It’s still not smart,” she said, shaking her head.
I turned, looking back toward the campsite. “You’re right about that. But if the killer came here on snowmobile, this spot makes perfect sense. This is the most secluded site of all. It’s tucked into the trees, and you can’t see it until you’re right up on it.”
“Yeah. That’s why I always pick it when I camp here. It’s private.”
“Exactly. Killers like privacy.” I pictured it in my mind, watching it play out.
“Maybe he doesn’t have snowshoes or isn’t physically capable of carrying a body very far.
So he comes in on the trail, drives the loop, and finds this spot.
It’s perfect. Pulls in, starts looking for a place to dump the body.
He could have driven the snowmobile right up to the tree line.
Getting back up the hill would have been brutal, but pulling a body down it? Not so hard.”
“He could have taken the snowmobile way past the tree line,” Claire pointed out. “The path is wide enough up here that an experienced snowmobiler could drive all the way to where the trail narrows.”
I whistled. “Wide, but steep. I wouldn’t want to do that.”
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Claire grinned and started walking down the path. I followed her until she stopped at the spot where the trail narrowed.
“In March, this would have been covered in at least two feet of snow,” she mused. “The stones and saplings would all have been buried. If the killer drove here, he could have just pushed her off the snowmobile. It’s a straight shot to the bottom. One smooth slide.”
I pictured it, realizing she was right. “Easy for the killer. Very little physical effort. And the snowpack would have reduced additional trauma to the body. The ME ruled out a fall, but a slide would explain why she didn’t have any additional broken bones.”
“Yeah.” Claire blew out a breath. “No way to prove it, but… It works.”
“It does,” I agreed. “I’ve got to admit, it’s a great theory.”
She looked up at me with a playful grin. “You’ve ‘got to admit’? What, is it killing you that I might actually be better than you at this?”
“Better than me ?” I smirked. “I wouldn’t go that far. But you’re better than I thought you’d be.”
She rolled her eyes, and I realized I owed her more than that. Because the truth was that I’d judged her unfairly.
The smile dropped from my face. “I’m sorry, Claire.”
“For what?” She looked puzzled.
I stuck my hands into my pockets, struggling to find the right words.
“You and I are different. We come from different worlds, and we’ve had very different experiences, both in life and in work.
I assumed your lack of investigative experience meant that you’d be worthless as a partner on this case. ”
Her eyebrows shot up. I wasn’t sure if she was shocked or offended—or both.
“But”—I looked her in the eye, hoping she could see my sincerity—“I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong, and I was. I was wrong to judge you before even giving you a chance. You’re good at this. And I’m honored to have you as a partner.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I–I appreciate you saying that.”
Seeing how much my apology meant to her made me angry that she’d worked so long with someone who would never admit how valuable she was on the team. “Collins is an ass. Don’t let him get to you.”
A little smile played on her lips. “Yes, he is. And he’s going to be pissed that you didn’t take my badge after all. He was so excited to see me get dressed down.”
I snorted. “Just wait until we solve this case and I publicly commend you for your invaluable assistance. He’ll have steam coming out of his ears.”
She grinned. “Probably. But I do feel kind of sorry for him.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Working for DCI is his dream. He got turned down due to lack of experience. This kind of thing doesn’t happen often in Sage County. It might be his only chance to do something that would get him a shot at DCI.”
Understanding dawned. “So that’s why he kept trying to get me to ask Sheriff McGrath for a change.”
Her jaw dropped. “Did he really?”
“Yep,” I said, nodding. “Texted me directly. I told him no, that you and I had it handled.”
She blushed again. “Thank you. Again.”
“Probably shouldn’t thank me for that one, since I was still planning on cutting you out of the case at that point,” I admitted.
“So you were just using me as an excuse to not have to work with Collins?”
“Basically.”
She punched me lightly on the arm, but then she laughed. “Aw, it’s alright. Can’t say I blame you on that one.”
“I’m starving,” Claire announced on the drive back toward town. “There’s a gas station coming up on the left. Pull over. They have great hot dogs.”
I glanced at the clock, realizing we’d worked straight through lunch. My stomach rumbled, thanks to Claire’s reminder.
But a gas station hot dog? I’d rather go hungry.
“Your mom will be serving dinner in a couple of hours. Wouldn’t you rather wait? It’s got to be better than gas station food.”
“So we’ll eat again in a couple of hours,” Claire said, shrugging. “That doesn’t fix my empty stomach now.”
“Alright,” I said, chuckling as I turned into the parking lot.
When I parked, Claire jumped out.
I didn’t follow.
She turned around and opened the door. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No, thanks. I’ll wait until dinner.”
“Ah,” she said, smirking. “I see. You’re a snob. Guess I should have realized, with those fancy boots and all.”
“I am not a snob.”
“What was your favorite food as a kid?” she asked, grinning.
I opened my mouth to answer, then realized all it would do was prove her point. Lobster was a staple in Maine, but it wasn’t exactly on most kids’ menus out west.
“Fine,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt. “We’ll eat hot dogs.”
“There you go,” she said, laughing as she led the way inside.
The clerk behind the counter greeted her by name, giving her a friendly smile before turning suspicious eyes toward me. Claire ordered for both of us, paid, then led me to a booth in the back and handed me mine.
I eyed it warily. It didn’t look terrible. It even smelled halfway decent.
Decent enough to make my stomach growl again.
Claire certainly seemed to be enjoying hers, and she couldn’t have terrible taste, since she’d grown up with Naomi Hawkins cooking her meals. I bit into the dog and was pleasantly surprised.
“Not bad,” I admitted. “Not quite as good as a New York dog, but… Not bad.”
She rolled her eyes, laughing. “Wow. First, you don’t even want to try one. Then, you have to compare it to the ones in NYC. You’re something else, Vance.”
It was the first time she’d called Vance, and the intimacy of it sparked unexpected pleasure.
“Right back at you, Claire.”
Her lips twisted into a teasing smile. I prepared for her next jab, but she surprised me, asking a personal question instead.
“Does your dad still live in the city?”
“No.” Normally, I’d leave it there. But she cocked her head, waiting for me to continue.
And I did.
“He moved to Wyoming right before I graduated college,” I explained. “That’s why I joined DCI after a few years as a detective with the NYPD.”
Her face turned serious. “I get it now. You moved here to be with him.”
“Kind of.” I took another bite.
“Is that why you went to college in New York? To be close to him?”
“Yeah.” Only one other person had ever asked me that question—my mother. She’d thrown it in my face as a guilt trip for years after I’d admitted it. To her, that meant he’d won. That I’d chosen him over her. And that was unforgivable.
Claire studied me. “Sucks that you moved there to be with him and he left. Did he have a job transfer or something?”
“Nosy,” I murmured, shaking my head.
Guilt flashed on her face. “Oh. Sorry. I have a habit of that. I’m not trying to be intrusive.”
“It’s okay. It’s just… I don’t normally talk about them.”
“Why not?” Her eyes were full of curiosity, but as I stared into them, I realized that it wasn’t the kind that made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t her prying for information she could leverage.
She was just trying to be a friend.
I blew out a breath. “My parents are somewhat well-known. It’s always been our policy to keep family drama to ourselves.” Especially in New York.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Gotcha. I should have known, considering where you grew up. Again, I’m sorry. I won’t ask any personal questions.”
“No, it’s okay.” I realized at that moment that I trusted Claire more than I’d trusted anyone in a very long time.
She was the most refreshing person I’d met in years.
She didn’t play games, and she wasn’t constantly looking for an edge or leverage to propel herself up.
She was simply herself. Unapologetically, refreshingly herself.
A smart and sassy woman who didn’t force herself to fit into someone else’s box.
Because of it, she was breaking down all my walls, coaxing me past my boundaries.
Normally, if someone tried that, I’d resent it. Build my walls higher, thicker. That’s what the Westons did. We prized security, privacy, excellence, and self-discipline. Not friendship. Not intimacy. Certainly not love.
But Claire Hawkins was making me wonder what it might be like to live by a different set of values.