Huck shrugged. “So far, there isn’t any true connection between Jason Abbott and the three murdered blondes, so right now, yeah. I’m off the drowning cases but not Abbott.”
That was quite the ambitious extrapolation. Yet, Laurel wanted Huck there. He was the only one she trusted who was still around, although she was becoming accustomed to working with Monty. “We’ll find Abbott,” she said.
Monty nodded. “We traced the call as soon as you contacted your techs. It took us about twenty-five minutes to get out here. We hurried, but we didn’t find anybody else on the road. There have been no sightings of Abbott yet.”
“How many back roads are there from this area?” Laurel asked.
Huck sighed. “A lot. There are many mountain roads, and even trails that a vehicle could have gone down.”
“So he may have left the state?” Her head pounded. Why would he call and then disappear? Or had he gone after somebody new?
“Why would he call you?” Huck asked.
“I don’t know. It’s part of his game.” She wandered over to the scraped-clean campfire. He had burned his journals. She would’ve bet almost anything he wouldn’t have done that, but Abigail would. She would’ve wanted this more than anything. “Did you secure any salvageable pages?”
“No,” Monty said. “We gathered all of the ashes, but they were burned pretty good and then got wet in the rain.”
Jason would hate for his memories to be burned. Laurel ducked as a pinecone burst through the air. “We need somebody at Abigail’s place—now.”
Huck jolted. “You think?”
“Absolutely. We have to see if she’s home.” Had Jason taken her? What kind of hold did Abigail still have on the serial killer?
“I don’t have anybody to spare,” Huck said.
“Call in the county police or even the city,” Laurel said.
He grasped his radio. “Good idea. Just a sec.” He loped toward his truck, his body strong and sure in the pounding storm.
Wiping rain off her face, she bent down to look at the campfire spot. The techs had done an admirable job of securing everything. “Nothing appeared readable to you?”
Monty pushed sopping wet hair away from his face. “Smell that?”
Laurel sniffed the air. “Yeah. Is that turpentine?”
“It’s an accelerant. We can send these to the lab, what’s left, but—”
“We’re not going to get anything.” Laurel couldn’t believe this.
She straightened and walked across the campfire area to a dilapidated cabin with holes in the wood. Jason must’ve been freezing out here. Moving inside, she stayed out of the way of the crime techs who were already dusting the area. The place held a mattress on the ground with several heavy blankets next to cans of chili and soup. He must’ve cooked over the fire outside.
Had he fled? Called her to say goodbye to torment her?
She crouched to look at the cans. The most common soup brand. They’d be hard to trace. Right next to the bed was a photograph of Jason with Haylee, both smiling in front of a garden. Why had he kept the picture?
Huck returned. “I have somebody heading to Abigail’s now, and we’ve had a report of an explosion close to the river beneath these peaks.”
“Explosion?” Laurel pushed to her feet.
“Yeah,” Huck noted. “A group of fishermen camping out, planning to ice fish in the river tomorrow. They saw a huge explosion and reported that a vehicle is on fire right now.”
Laurel looked around. “Is there a place that Abbott could have driven a truck off around here?”
“There’s Widow’s Peak,” Huck said. “It’s about fifteen minutes from here by foot. Driving, maybe two or three. I’ll send a deputy there, and I have people going to check out the scene below. It could just be some kids goofing off.”
Experience told her nothing was that easy. She walked back outside with him. “Let’s search this area as soon as the techs are finished.”
“You bet.”
