Page 10 of Truth is the Ultimate Weapon

“If that,” Kenzie replied, grabbing a file off the top of the pile, Coy following suit.

“I’m also surprised by the amount of missing persons there have been in Coyote Creek over the years.”

“Many of the missing individuals aren't residents of Coyote Creek ––rather, they're essentially BOLOs from neighboring counties. In the past, with limited resources in small, rural areas, expanding the search beyond borders was standard practice with a be on the lookout, BOLO, until technology picked up the slack.”

“So, we don’t know if these people are from here or if they just went missing here?”

Kenzie nodded, “Or, neither. You could have a missing person from five counties over who went missing three counties over in the opposite direction. And being a border state with a history of trafficking and cartel activity… the pile is pretty large.”

“We really are hunting for a needle in a haystack, then.” Coy sighed. “I wish there was more we could narrow it down by.”

“Not knowing exactly when, or even a more specific year he went missing, makes it even more challenging.” Kenzie shared.

“I blame Nash. It’s his fault we found human remains to begin with.” Coy chided and dropped the file he was looking at in his lap in frustration. “What the hell happened here? A dead body, Kenz? On top of everything else going on…”

“That’s why it has to be connected,” Kenzie said. “What are the odds that you make that kind of discovery at the same time as… well, everything else of late.”

“Do you realize what that means?” Coy questioned. “If this thing goes back twenty, thirty years?”

“It means your mother and your father kept a very big secret for a very long time.”

“It just doesn’t fit, Kenz. They weren’t those kinds of people.”

“Okay, then what? Is the timing just a coincidence? They didn’t have any idea what happened or that a body was buried on their property?”

“It’s possible, right? This could have happened right under their noses.” Coy stated. “An old ranch hand or some riffraff passing through town found a nice rural spot to hide a body.”

“It could have gone that way.”

“But you don’t think it did.”

“I don’t, Coy. Not given where it is. The barn went up after that, and isn’t it awfully convenient it went right there?” she said. “It isn’t anywhere near any of the livestock or working parts of the ranch. It’s a hobby barn at best –– unlike all the other barns around the property.”

“You think it was built to hide the body?”

“Maybe they missed the mark.” She shrugged. “Who knows, Coy. At this point, almost anything is possible until we find something more, anything that can shed even a shred of light and give us a jumping-off point.”

“Story of my damn life.” Coy dropped his head on the back of the sofa. “I’m not used to this.”

“Being a crime family? Most people aren’t.” She teased.

“That isn’t funny, Kenzie. Not even a little bit. I’m not used to being so stuck on a case. Sometimes they move slow, sure, but this one… it’s like I finally found an adversary who could outsmart me. This isn’t sloppy amateur random crap. This is too organized, and the thought of that…”

“It’s intimidating.” She said, reaching for another file.

“I was going to say, pissing me off. I’m not easily intimidated.”

“Keep reading these files, Stone. You aren’t going to find what you’re looking for by just sitting there.” She said. “If we’re lucky, something will shed a little more light, and we’ll know where to look. Until then, we read every one of these musty files until we find something.”

“Out of all the files we’ve read so far, I find it strange that there isn’t a single may be in the group. The ones who were mothers are too old, and the ones in our age range aren’t mothers.” Coy went on. “What if this is cartel dumping bodies over the border for this very reason? Hard to trace.”

“Or, what if it isn’t, and there are answers in one of these boxes?” Kenzie tossed her file in a discard pile and went for another one, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way before.”

“What way is that?”

“Defeated. Whining.”

“I’m hardly whining. It’s called venting, and I don’t concede to defeat. If anything, it motivates me more.”

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