See Her Die (Bree Taggert #2)(8)

When she’d first taken over the department, she’d reviewed all her deputies’ files to get a sense of their skill sets. Todd was the top marksman with a long gun.

In order to reach the woods, they’d have to cross fifty feet of open ground. The morning sky had brightened to pale shades of pink and orange. A few evergreens clustered at the edge of the woods. The shooter could be hiding behind them. Todd brought his AR-15 from the trunk of his patrol vehicle and took up a position behind a boulder. He knelt and aimed his rifle across the top of the rock.

Bree and Rogers ran across the snow. Once they reached the trees, she pressed her shoulder to a tree, then peered around the trunk. She saw nothing but snow and woods. She met Rogers’s gaze and circled her finger in the air. Rogers’s flushed face had gone pale and clammy. They separated and went around the evergreens from opposite sides.

The snow was heavily trampled behind the pines, but no one was there.

Bree turned in a circle. She could see no additional hiding places in the stark woods, but the hairs on the back of her neck refused to relax. Though she’d been raised by a cousin in the city after the deaths of her parents, she’d been born in Grey’s Hollow. Her family had owned a rural chunk of land. The first eight years of her life had been spent running half-wild in woods like these. But this morning, the forest was creeping her out.

She turned back to Rogers. He was studying the ground. Lines creased around his eyes as he concentrated. He was reportedly the best tracker in the department. Bree was all about letting people do what they did best. She kept one eye on the woods and watched him read the tracks.

Rogers cleared his throat and pointed to the snowy clearing. “Someone used this spot as a latrine.”

“Makes sense,” Bree said. “There’s no water in the cabin, and the evergreens create privacy.”

Back in his element, Rogers seemed to calm. “Most of the tracks just go back and forth to the cabin, except these.” He gestured to footprints that led away from the latrine area and ran in a track parallel to the lake.

“Too bad the snow is too powdery to see any real imprints.”

“Can’t even tell the size of the boots,” Rogers agreed.

Bree and Rogers followed the footprints along the shoreline. Behind the next cabin, number nineteen, the tracks led to the back porch. From there, the prints turned toward the lake and disappeared on the ice.

Todd left his position behind the boulder and followed them. His head swiveled as he scanned the woods while he walked.

Rogers said, “The wind blew the snow off the ice.”

Bree brushed some snow dust from her jacket. “Any thoughts on which way the shooter went?”

“Are we sure there really was a shooter?” Rogers shook his head. “If somebody got shot, where’s the body? Where’s the blood?”

Bree stared out over Grey Lake. Long and narrow, it stretched out for miles. It was the beginning of March, and the lake was still frozen over.

Rogers cleared his throat. “There’s also the possibility she’s lying. Maybe she made up the whole story.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Attention.”

Bree raised a brow.

Rogers continued. “Think about it. She has nowhere to go, and it’s fucking cold out. That cabin has no water, and the only source of heat is the fireplace. Surviving out here is rough. Just gathering dry wood every day would take a serious effort, especially for a girl.”

Bree pictured the girl clutching her ax. Definitely not the helpless type.

“You think she invented a friend and gunshots?” Bree asked. “Seems like an elaborate plan. Why would she bother?”

Rogers shrugged. “I’ve had people commit crimes to get back into jail, especially in the winter.”

“How does reporting a crime get her a place to stay? By calling us, she admitted to trespassing and lost access to her only shelter.” Bree saw more motivation for Alyssa to remain silent.

“Maybe she didn’t want to stay here,” he said. “Maybe she isn’t stable. Most homeless people are either drug addicts or have mental problems.”

“Plenty of people are homeless for reasons beyond their control,” Bree said.

Rogers scowled and swept an arm out. “I find it hard to believe someone was shot out here, and we haven’t found a single drop of blood on all this white snow and ice. All I’m saying is that it’s one possibility. We don’t have any proof that a second girl exists, let alone a shooter.”

Bree didn’t know what to believe. She had a pretty accurate bullshit meter. The girl had seemed genuinely traumatized. But the circumstances were strange. “It’s our job to figure out what happened.”

The corner of Rogers’s mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something and was having a hard time holding back the words. A few seconds later, he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “All I’m saying is that we’re already spread thin.”

“So, you want to walk away from a citizen’s report of a shooting because we’re busy?”

He shifted his weight. “The citizen isn’t very credible.” He mashed his lips together for a second, but again, couldn’t keep them that way. “Sheriff King wouldn’t have wasted resources until he had real proof a crime was committed.”