Do you think it’s why I’m still here? Because I haven’t fully faced what happened?
I squeezed his hand tighter.
On the other hand, if there was anyone who could explain why Charlie was still around, wouldn’t it be her? Or maybe she could at least point us in the right direction for answers.
What if she can help bring him back?
I couldn’t look at that tiny flame of hope head-on, afraid it would snuff out the moment I wanted it too much.
Charlie peered over at me, his hand still firmly linked with mine. I felt like he could read every thought I’d ever had. Even that tiny, hushed flicker of an idea.
“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Charlie began uncertainly, turning back to Tate. “So if there’s something I could remember that would help, I want to try. But I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me why you think I did it. If I disappeared, how could they have been so certain it was me?”
Tate paused, weighing Charlie’s words. Probably calculating the risk of divulging information to the one and only suspect in the murders of six people, with the benefit of his restored memories.
He turned to me. “No one else, remember? By some miracle, this hasn’t been leaked. If it happens now, I’ll know it was you.”
I nodded. “Not a word.”
He sighed heavily. “They searched the lookout top to bottom. Tore the place apart. They never found you, or any indicationyou planned to leave. But they did find the murder weapons—covered in the victim’s blood.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Stunned, I stared at Tate for a moment. “Weapons?As in plural?” I asked.
He nodded. “I won’t say more than that. Not until you meet with my grandmother.”
Charlie looked shell-shocked, his gaze distant. “I didn’t do this,” he said softly, as though the weight of defending himself grew too heavy.
“I know,” I said vehemently. And then I remembered. “What about that police officer who came to see you?” I turned to Tate. “Don’t you have those reports? Surely more questions would’ve been asked if someone had been here only hours earlier and didn’t notice anything odd?”
His eyebrows lifted in realization. “That’swhat you were going on about at the ranger station. I thought you were hallucinating.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“You talked about Charles Randolph like you knew him. You said a police officer came to visit him, but that’s not real. I checked. There’s no record of anyone coming out to the lookout that day. You looked like death warmed over, though, so Ithought it was all nonsense.Uh, sorry,” he added in Charlie’s direction, cringing.
“It wasn’t nonsense,” I cut in, angry again. “Someone came to see him.”
Charlie focused on Tate. “It’s true. A police officer came out to ask if I’d seen anything unusual.”
Tate eyed him suspiciously. “Do you remember their name? What did you tell them?”
Charlie shook his head. “I don’t remember his name. He was young. Twenties, maybe? Said he was the sorry deputy saddled with hiking all the way out here to talk to the lookouts.” He shrugged. “He wasn’t here very long. I gave him my observation logs, and that’s really it. He said he’d pass them on to the ranger station for me unless there was something necessary for the investigation.”
“You gave him your logs?” Tate asked, tone sharp.
“Wait,” I interrupted, holding up a hand. “There’s no record of this at all? How is that possible?”
Tate made a non-committal noise. “It’s been almost forty years. Some information gets lost in the shuffle.”
If smoke could come out my ears, it would’ve. “Fuck that,” I snarled. “Lost in the shuffle? A cop was herehoursbefore he disappeared and didn’t notice a goddamnmurder weapon?And that was somehow overlooked when they decided to wrap this up and put a pretty bow on it? Sure, blame it all on the missing guy, who isn’t around anymore to defend himself!”
I stood and paced, gesticulating with my hands. “Get the fuck out of here with that. His family suffered for years because of that lazy excuse of an investigation. More people are going missing, now! And let’s all be transparent for once—they’re dead. I saw what he did to that bobcat. What if it wasn’t a cop that came to see Charlie, huh? What if it was the killer? Did no one look into thisat all?”
Tate looked cowed. Rocky perked up from his nap, whining softly.
“We’re trying to do the right thing, this time,” he said softly. “I’mtrying to do the right thing. I don’t know for sure who was responsible for the murders in eighty-six, and I don’t know who’s responsible for the ones in the last few months. Maybe it’s the same person, maybe it’s a copycat. We don’t know yet, but we are trying.”
