Page 116 of One Last Chance

Flynn stood up. “Okay, so the killer snatches a girl off the road. Parker’s car was here. She was on her way to a friend’s house down in Willow. Why would she stop?”

“She wouldn’t. She’s smart—she knows about the MS Killer. Everybody does. It’s a thing . . . Women know not to stop.”

“But she did. So why?” Flynn turned and looked at the board. “She has to know him. Not fear him. Not remotely think that he’s the killer.” She looked at her list. “Who would she know?”

Shasta stood next to her. “Whowouldn’tshe know on this list? She practically grew up here. She works at the ranger’s office with her dad, so she knows Sully because he picked up permits. She works at the pizza place, so she knows Levi and sometimes helps out Anuk Swenson at the vet clinic. I mean . . . it’s a really small town.”

“Does she know Ox?”

Shasta frowned. “Ox Remington? Of course. Everybody knows Ox, and he attends their church?—”

“Where is that? I haven’t seen one in town.”

“Most people go to Church on the Rock, just out of town.”

“So, Ox goes to her church.”

“And so do the Bowies. Which means Wilson and his family, when they’re in town, probably. And . . . yeah. She knows everyone.”

“That’s a big help.”

“Sorry. But—” She stepped up to the board and pointed to the picture of the Jane Doe with Kennedy’s necklace. “Icanhelp you with this Jane Doe. I knew her. I think that’s Dori Cooper. But I didn’t even know she was missing.”

“How do you know her?”

“My sister brings supplies to their commune. It’s . . . here.” She tracked a finger north of Bowie land, east of the national forest and cache cabin.

“Wait. There’s a commune here?”

“The art colony. Or maybe a commune. It’s called Woodcrest. It used to be this place for hippies, and then Jesus people, and then, I don’t know. They grow their own food and send crafts out to sell, and homeschool their kids. Nice people, keep to themselves. Don’t like outsiders much—I mean, they’re not going to shoot anyone, but generally, they like to stay off the grid.”

“And Dori was from there?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I’d go along with my dad, and we’d hang out while he delivered supplies or chatted up the elders. I liked her.”

“What was she doing on the highway? That’s, like, thirty miles. More.”

“Maybe she wasn’t on the highway. You don’t have an origin pin for her. But she was found here . . . near O’Kelly’s cabin. If you follow this trail, it leads into the national forest.”

She picked up a blue highlighter and ran it into the forest.

Flynn stood there, mentally placing herself on a mountain. Oh, she was an idiot. From there, it was a short hike to the cabin. “What’s this?” She traced a faint line along the bottom of the property.

“That’s Silver Salmon Drive. It’s a high-end, seasonal residential area. Gated properties. It’s near Willow.”

“Seasonal?”

“Yes.”

“I need a list of every single owner.”

Shasta nodded.

“Why was this not on any map?”

“It’s new . . . like, in the last ten years.”

“Who is the developer?”

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