CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
"Jennifer, I'd known for years. She'd run my races before, volunteered at a few.
We weren't close friends, but we'd shared meals, talked about training, the usual stuff you do in this community.
" Dalton paused. "Jordan I knew less well.
He was newer to the scene, hadn't run any of my other events.
But I'd watched his results, talked to him at a few pre-race meetings. Good kid. Talented."
"And Jessica?"
Dalton hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Jessica I'd gotten to know better recently. She reached out a few months ago, asking for advice about training in the desert. She'd moved to Arizona specifically to prepare for this race, and she wanted to learn from people who knew the terrain."
That caught Kari's attention. "What kind of advice did you give her?" she asked.
"The usual. Hydration strategies, heat acclimation, route selection.
I suggested some training areas that would help her get used to the conditions she'd face during the race.
" Dalton's hands tightened around his water bottle.
"I keep thinking about that. Wondering if something I told her—some route I suggested—led her into danger. "
"Did you suggest the area where she was found?"
"I don't know exactly where she was found. The news reports were vague." Dalton met her eyes. "But I know that general area, yes. It's good training ground—remote, challenging, the kind of terrain that separates serious runners from casual ones. I've recommended it to other runners too."
Kari let the silence stretch for a moment as she watched Dalton's face. He held her gaze, but she could see the strain behind it—the effort of maintaining his composure while his world crumbled around him.
"Mr. Dalton, I need to ask you something directly. Where were you on the days when each of the victims disappeared?"
The question landed like a blow. Dalton's face went pale, his mouth opening and closing before he found words. "You think—you think I had something to do with this?"
"I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm asking where you were."
"I was—" He stopped, visibly struggling to compose himself. "I'd have to check my calendar. I was probably here, or at my home office, or out on the trails training. I run every day, Detective. It's what I do."
"Can anyone verify your whereabouts on those specific days?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I live alone, I work alone, I train alone." Dalton's voice had taken on a defensive edge. "That's not unusual in this community. Most serious runners train alone—it's how you build the mental toughness you need for races like this."
"What about the race registration data? Who has access to the list of participants, their contact information, their emergency contacts?"
"I do. My volunteers do, the ones who help with logistics and safety coordination." Dalton frowned. "But that information isn't secret. We post the participant roster on our website. Anyone who wanted to know who was running the Sonoran 100 could find out with a few clicks."
"Including their training schedules? Their preferred routes?"
"No, that's not public. That would come from—" Dalton stopped, a new realization crossing his face. "From conversations. From the forums, the social media groups, the places where runners share information with each other."
"Or from someone who reached out offering advice. Someone who positioned themselves as an experienced desert runner, willing to help newcomers prepare for the race."
Dalton stared at her. "You think someone is targeting my runners specifically. Using the race as a hunting ground."
Kari said nothing. She just watched him, letting him form his own conclusions.
"I don't—" Dalton shook his head, looking shaken. "I can't think of anyone who would do something like this. The ultra community is small. We know each other. We support each other. The idea that one of us might be..." He couldn't finish the sentence.
"I'm going to need a copy of your registration data. All participants, their contact information, any notes you have about their experience levels or training plans. I'm also going to need access to any forums or groups where your runners communicate with each other."
"I can get you the registration data. The forums are public—I can send you links." Dalton looked up at her desperately. "Detective, I want to help. I need to help. These were my people—my runners, my community. If someone is hunting them, I want them caught more than anyone."
"Then help me catch them." Kari stood, pulling out a business card. "Send me everything you have. And if you think of anyone—anyone at all—who might have a reason to target these runners, call me. Day or night."
Dalton took the card, turning it over in his hands.
"I've been organizing this race for fifteen years.
I know every mile of the course, every training route in the area, every rock and wash and ridge line.
If someone is using that knowledge to hurt people.
.." His voice cracked. "I'll do whatever I can to stop them. "
Kari studied him for a long moment. Then she rose.
"I'll be in touch," she said, and left him sitting at the picnic table, staring at her card as the desert sun sank toward the horizon.