Page 22 of One Last Chance

“Seemed like the right thing to do. All the DNA evidence we gathered is in the file. Only two matches—your sister, and the victim, still unknown. And with the wounds consistent with the Midnight Sun Killer’s MO, and you coming here to search for her…we’re sorry we’ve never had any more leads.”

She nodded. “Me too. Is the victim’s information in here too?”

He shook his head. “That’s an open case, what with the newest victim.”

She sighed. “I heard about that. A woman near the Copper Mountain Ski Resort?”

“Yes. She and a group of friends got lost during a snowstorm and all but she were found. A SAR team found her, shot, on the edge of the property, not far from the chalet. We didn’t know if she was running from the lodge or toward it. But the bullet matched the rest—a .270 Winchester.”

Flynn had turned to the map to find the ski resort. Put a finger on it. “It’s next to Remington land, where a couple of the other victims were found.”

“Yes. But there were others, located farther downstream. I’m not sure there’s a connection to Remington land.”

She opened the file and looked at the summary. “There’s no mention of an interview with the owner.”

“Oh, we talked. I know Ox personally. He runs the gold-mining operation west of here. That land was bought by his father years ago, before he arrived here. Hunting land. He never uses it.”

“Someone does.” She closed the file. “Maybe a son, or a relative?”

She liked Deke, overall. Good-looking, dark hair, pale blue eyes. He seemed like he cared, like he wasn’t putting her off.

“Maybe. He has two sons who work the claim with him—Jude and Nash. I saw Nash in town earlier, talking with Peyton, his fiancée, over at the forest ranger’s office.”

“Peyton Samson?” She opened the file again. “That’s the ranger who runs the wolf-tracking program. She was Kennedy’s boss.”

“We’ve already interviewed her—the copy is in the file. She didn’t sense that Kennedy was in any distress when she left her at the cabin.”

Flynn turned to the map again, checked the black-and-white copy of the map in the file, then found it on the grid. “Here, on the Copper River, just a few miles from the Bowie road.”

“That’s the one.” He stepped up to the map. “You can only get there by four-wheeler—or dogsled in the winter. Or good, old-fashioned hiking. Only trouble out there is black bears and grizzlies.”

She gave him a look.

“Sorry. I . . . Listen, Flynn. People go missing in Alaska all the time, whether by choice or by animal accident or, yes, occasionally foul play. I’m sorry to say that there is no reason to believe that Kennedy was murdered.”

“Except for her necklace ending up on a murder victim.”

He lifted a shoulder. “She could have lost it, maybe in the bathroom at the Midnight Sun, and it got picked up by this girl. Any number of scenarios could explain this.”

He spoke quietly, gently, and she recognized the tone. She’d used it herself, especially when talking to relatives of people gone missing, family who were desperate for answers.

And she couldn’t argue with him—she might hand out the same explanation. Except, “My parents want to have a memorial service. It’s not like Kennedy to just . . . vanish. We were on good terms. I mean, yeah, we had a disagreement the last time I saw her?—”

“Where was that?”

“Actually, the Copper Mountain resort. We came out here to go skiing, and she wanted to stay.” She palmed the file. “Apparently she did.” She looked out the window to the ranger station down the street. “You know that feeling as a detective, when you just feel that you’re missing something, but it’s out there just beyond your reach, like you’re reaching into a fog, and if you just put your hand on it . . .”

“I think that’s called faith.”

“Or just desperate hope.”

“Could be the same thing.”

Right.“You said Peyton was here, with Nash?”

“Probably stopping in to see her folks before she heads out to the bush again. The Samsons have a summer home in Copper Mountain. Try the ranger station first, though. And, Flynn, I’m not saying that she’s dead or alive. I just don’t know where to go from here.”

“Thanks, Sheriff,” she said and shook his hand.

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