Page 25 of Crosshairs

Before she looked at the actual crime scene, Ainsley peered through the leaves, making out glimpses of a brick building. Looked like Hannah may have been running toward the church. Did she think she could hide there? Steeling herself, Ainsley flipped to the photos of Hannah and compared them to the area where tape fluttered from a huge oak growing at the edge of an overhang, its exposed roots grasping the eroded ground below like a three-foot claw. Almost cave-like.

Hannah had been running from someone. Did the girl crawl inside the roots to hide and the killer found her? Or had the footprints been innocent? The girl was pregnant ... the area was isolated. Was she meeting the baby’s father and they argued?

It was also a perfect place to do drugs. “Were any needles or drug paraphernalia found at the scene?” she asked.

“No.”

“When do you expect to get the toxicology report back?” One look at the district ranger’s face gave her the answer. “Backlogged again?”

“Yep.”

Ainsley used her phone to snap photos and hoped the last thing Hannah saw wasn’t the grotesque tree roots. She pocketed her phone, and they walked closer to the site. All three of them removed their flat hats and stood silently for a minute. Ainsley never visited a murder scene without thinking about the life lost and the family left behind. Hannah Dyson had her whole life ahead of her until someone took it away.Lord, help me find whoever did this.

The prayer caught her by surprise. It’d been more than ten years since she’d last uttered any kind of prayer. Not since ... She shook her thoughts off. Solving this crime was up to her.

She turned to Sam. “Were there any shoe prints leaving the area?”

“Not that we could find. Either he—and judging by the size and the type of shoe, it was a he—returned by way of the gravel path or walked to the Old Trace and left that way.”

“How about on the other side of the church?” Linc asked.

“That’s a possibility, as well. Could’ve cut through the cemetery to a hiking trail,” Sam said. “There are several of those around here.”

So many ways he could have left after he killed Hannah. “Is the church open?”

“I’ve never found it locked,” Sam replied.

Ainsley tilted her head. “What do you say we split up. I’ll take the church and cemetery.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll take the Old Trace and meet up with you back at our vehicles.”

Ainsley glanced at Linc, and the expression on his face indicated he didn’t like her idea. “Problem?”

He didn’t answer right away but instead turned and scanned the area.

“Linc,” she said impatiently.

“It’s nothing, I guess. Just a gut feeling someone’s watching us.”

“Have you seen anyone?”

“Just the boy.” He shook his head. “Probably my overactive imagination. I’ll check out the cemetery with you and then hike the trail on the other side that leads back to where we’re parked.”

“Good idea.”

Sam walked toward the Old Trace while Ainsley and Linc walked the short distance to the opening in the chain-link fence around the cemetery.

“To save time, why don’t you go ahead and check out the church while I look around here,” Linc said. “Then we can walk back to the truck together.”

She agreed and checked the names on the tombstones as she walked to the brick building. Proof people had lived here once. Barrett, Harrison, Lum, Powers, Winters ... it was so hard to imagine a town in this overgrown wilderness. She paused a minute under the towering trees, their limbs draping Spanish moss like gray streamers.

It was peaceful here, but she wasn’t here to relax. She kept her attention on the ground, looking for signs the murderer had passed this way. When she reached the edge of the cemetery, she strode to the front of the building, stopping to read the sign between the two entrances. The church had been built in 1837. Ainsley climbed the steps on the right and tried the front door. Like Sam said, it was unlocked. A shiver ran down her back, and she looked over her shoulder to see where Linc was. Maybe he would like to search the building with her.

Where did that thought come from? Ainsley shrugged it offand entered the church, the coolness surprising her. The musty odor did not. She paused to take stock of her surroundings. Three sections of wooden pews. Two aisles. At the front, a white altar and pulpit. Exits on either side matched the entrance doors. It was much like the old country church where she’d gone to homecomings with her grandmother and aunt every spring.

Ainsley didn’t detect any movement signifying anyone was here, and she wandered farther inside. Had Hannah ever been here before? If so, maybe the familiarity was what drew her to the church? Otherwise why hadn’t she run to the families who were camped at Rocky Springs?

Ainsley paused in front of the altar. The peace she’d felt in the cemetery wasn’t here. Instead, a heavy atmosphere weighted her down. A sense she wasn’t alone stood the hair on her arms on end.

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