“Was there anything helpful on the memory card of his camera?” Ellie asked.
“Not really,” Deputy Landrum said. “He did photograph the area where he found the remains, but didn’t catch anyone running or lurking around in the shots.”
A dead end, Ellie thought.
“Dr. Whitefeather and her forensic anthropologist assistant should be working on the autopsy today, so we’ll know more then. She did speculate that the girl was a teenager but not how long the remains had been there so hopefully she can narrow that down and get us an ID.”
Captain Hale addressed the room. “Everyone know the history of Brambletown?”
Deputy Eastwood nodded and spoke up, “Some folks are lobbying for the government to finally clean up the toxins. The killer may have left the body on that land to draw attention to the cause or speed up decomp and throw us off with the timeline.”
The captain frowned and popped a mint in his mouth. “The fire and toxins aren’t the only problem in Brambletown.”
“I didn’t grow up around here. Fill me in,” Deputy Landrum said.
Ellie responded. “Fifteen years ago, a teenager girl named Ruth Higgins, the mayor’s daughter, disappeared from Brambletown. Police investigated and searched but her body was never recovered. They speculated she was murdered but found no proof.”
“There’s miles and miles of untamed land where her body could have been dumped or buried,” Cord said. “Or she could have simply run away.”
“True, and the police considered every theory, but eventually the case went cold.”
Shondra rolled a pen between her fingers. “Do you think our body is the Higgins girl?”
“I don’t know,” Ellie said honestly. “Again, we’re waiting on an ID. It’s possible it’s Ruth or also possible it’s someone else. It has been a decade and a half since Ruth Higgins disappeared. If the cases are related, it might suggest a repeat offender. If so, where has he been? Serial predators usually don’t wait that long in between kills.” She took a sip of her coffee then set it down. “This may be an isolated event so let’s start with identifying the girl, then locating her family and friends. They may know something about how she wound up dead in the mountains.”
She angled her head toward Deputy Eastwood. “Shondra, while Landrum looks into Emanuel Black, pull all the files on the investigation into the Higgins girl. In town, we may come across some of those questioned in that investigation and if so, I want to know background information in advance.”
“Copy that,” Shondra said.
“So far no missing persons reports have come in from Brambletown so if the body isn’t Ruth, the girl may not be a local,” Captain Hale said.
“I’ll search missing persons reports across the state,” Ellie said. “Shondra, once I look at those and you study the files on the Higgins’ investigation, let’s head to Brambletown and talk to the locals. Ranger McClain, arrange a search team, expand the search grid and look for anything in those woods that seems suspicious. A button off a shirt, cigarette butt, soda can, something that could have belonged to the killer.”
“ERT combed the area,” he said gruffly.
She narrowed her eyes. “I know, but they might have missed something. Even the smallest clue could help us figure out what happened in those woods.”
SIXTEEN
Brambletown
Tilly couldn’t survive without her coffee. The diner she’d stopped at when she’d first driven into town didn’t serve a vanilla latte with oat milk, but black would do. Hell, any coffee would do. As long as it was caffeinated.
Decaf was for the wusses. Or for those who’d slept eight hours, not those like her who spent half the night tossing and turning and tearing up the sheets with nightmares and images of her dead sister’s face.
She threw on sweats, yanked her layered, wavy hair into a low knot at the base of her neck, grabbed her keys and hurried from her room. She passed Ruth’s where she’d spent half the night combing through the high school annual and the love letters Clint Wallace had sent Ruth—gawd, those had been sickening. She couldn’t believe her father hadn’t burned them and tossed the ashes over a cliff. He had been so protective of Ruth. Almost possessive as if she was some prize to sit on a shelf and show off.
Ruth would have been mortified if she’d known the police had seen the letters, especially since Clint was the sheriff’s son.
When questioned, their mother had pointed out their father’s obsession with Ruth which had triggered suspicion toward him. Had he been too attentive toward Ruth? Had he been…
Tilly squashed the vile thoughts. She’d barely survived the accusations against her father and brother, and the rumors had definitely created a chasm between her parents. But according to her research, her parents were still together in Finch Gardens.
Back then, she’d cut them slack over their arguments though. Even a stable happy couple would have trouble overcoming the stigma of those allegations.
At least the rain had died down during the night, but a winter chill hovered in the air. Or maybe it never left this part of the mountain, not with all the death and decay the area had seen.
Her car engine chugged to life, and five minutes later, she headed toward town. With no fast-food chains in these parts except for the DQ, she found the small diner on the edge of Brambletown, a place called Daisy’s Diner that had been there at least twenty-five years, and ducked inside. The place had been given a facelift though, and at odds with the age and deterioration of other businesses, looked bright and cheery. During her high school years, the drab diner was struggling. Today it was hopping with locals and tourists, probably drawn to the memorial. Coffee cups and plates clanked and rattled as people enjoyed stacks of pancakes, sausages and plump homemade biscuits with southern ham and red-eyed gravy.
