Page 31 of Once Hidden
“Road’s mostly gravel and hardpack,” Peckham replied.“We did find some tire impressions about fifty yards back from Morris’s truck, pulled off onto the shoulder.Could be our unsub’s vehicle, waiting for Morris to come along.”
“Or just someone who pulled over to take a call,” Hodge suggested.
“True,” Peckham acknowledged.“But a witness—elderly woman who lives about a quarter mile down that road—reported seeing a dark-colored SUV parked there about an hour before Morris would have come through.Said it caught her attention because it’s not a spot people usually stop.”
Riley turned back to face them.“Did she get a look at the driver?”
Peckham shook his head.“Tinted windows.She couldn’t see inside.”
Ann Marie looked up from her notes.“Any ransom demands?Contact from the abductor?”
“Nothing,” Peckham said grimly.“Same as your Lindeen case, from what I understand.”
Riley returned to the table and picked up her coffee, now cooled to a temperature she could drink more easily.“What do we know about Cable Morris?Any connection to Amanda Lindeen?Did they know each other?”
“Not that we’ve found,” Peckham replied.“Different companies, different towns, different social circles.Only connection we can see is their job—both delivery drivers with regular routes in rural areas.”
“Predictable,” Riley murmured.“The unsub knew exactly when and where to find them.”
“That’s our thinking,” Peckham agreed.“He studied their routines, set his trap accordingly.”
Riley took another sip of her coffee, organizing her thoughts.“I’d like to visit the abduction site,” she said finally.“See it firsthand.”
“Figured you would.I can take you there now if you want.It’s about fifteen minutes outside town.”
“Let’s go,” Riley said, setting down her empty cup.
They gathered their things and followed Peckham back through the station.As they stepped outside, the late afternoon heat hit them like a wall after the air-conditioned interior.The sky had taken on the golden quality of approaching evening, though sunset was still hours away in the height of summer.
“I’ll lead the way,” Peckham said, heading toward his patrol car.“Road can be a bit tricky to find if you don’t know the area.”
Riley, Ann Marie, and Hodge returned to their respective vehicles.“You’re hoping to get a feeling at the scene,” Ann Marie said as Riley pulled out of the parking lot.
Following Peckham’s patrol car, Riley watched Peckham’s taillights as he turned onto the main road heading out of town.“Maybe,” she replied.“Sometimes being at the actual location helps me see things more clearly.”
The road quickly transitioned from town to country, the buildings giving way to fields and patches of woodland.They passed small farms with big old barns, roadside produce stands now closed for the evening, and the occasional cluster of mailboxes marking the entrance to a private drive.
They followed Peckham‘s car as it turned onto progressively narrower roads, the pavement eventually giving way to gravel.The woods grew thicker on either side, creating the impression of driving through a tunnel of green.
“What’s bothering me,” Riley said, “is the feeling I got at the scene of Amanda’s abductions that it was no kidnapping.Amanda was gone.”
“Gone,” Ann Marie repeated, understanding the unspoken meaning.“You think she was already dead when we were there.”
Keeping her eyes on the road ahead, Riley added, “And that’s what worries me about Cable Morris.If the same person took him, using the same method, following the same pattern...”
She didn’t finish the sentence.She didn’t need to.
“You think he’s already dead too,” Ann Marie said softly.
“Yes,” Riley finally said, the admission tasting like ash in her mouth.“I think Cable Morris is dead.And if we don’t figure out who’s doing this quickly, someone else will be next.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bob Montgomery walked the familiar trail through the Bundydale woods, his worn hiking boots crunching over fallen twigs and last autumn’s forgotten leaves.The late afternoon sun slanted through trees, casting long shadows across his path.He moved with the ease of someone who had traversed these woods his entire life, from boyhood adventures to these solitary walks that had become his ritual—a way to clear his mind after long days managing the hardware store his father had passed down to him.
Ahead, through a thinning line of trees, he glimpsed the stone walls of an abandoned church that waited for him like an old friend with secrets to share.
At 28, Bob was already carrying a gentle softness around his waist, the result of too many evenings spent sampling his wife’s cooking rather than joining her for evening jogs.His face, a bit weather-beaten from weekend fishing trips and working in the yard, carried the laugh lines of a man who found joy in simple things.The hardware store consumed most of his waking hours, especially since his assistant manager had quit three weeks ago.These walks had become essential—the only times when inventory counts and customer complaints couldn’t reach him.
