Page 7 of Seeking Evil

This wasn’t how she envisioned today ending. For days, she’d been enjoying the breathtaking views from atop the Wind River Mountains. Sierra planned to work her way up to the Cirque of the Towers on her final day, which would be soon. It was known for its stunning granite peaks and challenging routes.

So far, she’d climbed Gannett Peak, the highest in Wyoming, and several of the more than three hundred climbing routes of Wild Iris. She was ready for Cirque of the Towers.

Not ready for her Jeep to take a nosedive.

The desolate Wyoming country road stretched before her, flanked by dense coniferous forests and towering mountains in the distance. She fussed under her breath, her mind racing with the options before her.

“Great,” she muttered and reached for her phone. The service indicator showed no signal. Of course. Stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no means of communication.

Dark clouds had been gathering over the mountains for a while. The first fat drops of rain from the storm that had threatened for hours hit the windshield.

She was exhausted, and all she wanted to do was go back to her cabin and clean up. Maybe take a hike over to the diner for a meal and, with any luck, obtain a few more details from Florence.

Sierra visited the diner every evening. She was slowly breaking through Florence’s resistance. Little by little, the story of what happened twenty-five years ago came out from someone who had been here at the time.

In the summer of 2000, women began disappearing from around Pinedale. All were staying at the Wind River Cabins like Sierra, and all were climbers.

According to one article she’d pulled up on her laptop, there were a total of six that summer before the disappearances ended just as suddenly as they’d begun.

None of the women were ever found, nor were their vehicles. All left their possessions in their rooms. Law enforcement believed they were taken by the same person. After the kidnapper stopped his reign of terror, the town slowly returned to normal. The fear that hung over the area like the current dark clouds had lifted. People went about their lives without worrying who would disappear next.

The families of the victims demanded answers. Florence mentioned that through each of those years, they came to Pinedale during the summer to hold a memorial for their loved ones and then meet with the sheriff to go over the progress of the case. So far, no new leads had emerged.

And now, with the disappearance of Dawn Collins, many wondered if their worst nightmare had returned.

Sierra got out of the Jeep. Maybe she could walk down the road and find enough service to call for help.

The solitude of the area closed in, conjuring mixed feelings as the raindrops continued to fall. She loved the peacefulness of the space. Yet, after everything she’d read about the cases from the past and now Dawn’s disappearance, the quiet she so longed for held a hint of danger in it.

She stopped periodically to try the phone. Nothing. Frustrated, Sierra returned to her Jeep. It was maybe three miles into town. If she started walking now, she’d be there before dark. The Jeep was far enough off the road that no one should hit it.

Shoving the phone into her jacket pocket, she put the hood up over her head to protect against the rain. Sierra retrieved her backpack that held her wallet and locked the vehicle. Hoisting the backpack into place, Sierra started walking. She was in good shape. She jogged every morning. Worked out. Boxed. And mountain climbed. Still, she’d been climbing all week, and today’s climb had been particularly challenging. Her body was physically exhausted. Making it to town in her current condition might take longer than she thought.

She reached a bend in the road when she heard the distant hum of a vehicle coming up from behind. Perhaps she could get a ride. She jogged back to her vehicle as an old tow truck came into view, its headlights piercing the growing twilight.

“Thank you, God.”

Sierra flagged it down, her FBI training reminding her to be cautious since a possible predator lurked out there somewhere. She retrieved her Glock and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans. She couldn’t ignore the pressing need for assistance.

The truck halted, and the driver, an older man with a friendly smile hopped out. “Car trouble?” he asked, his voice tinged with a local drawl.

Sierra noticed he appeared familiar. Had she seen him around town? “Yeah. It just died on me. Any chance you could give me a tow into town?”

His kind smile reminded her of her grandfather. “Sure thing. Let me take a look first. Maybe I can get it running.” The old man’s smile revealed nothing suspicious. “You want to pop the hood?”

She hesitated. Her better judgment told her to be careful. The driver waited near his truck. A shock of gray hair peeked out from his baseball cap with the logo Pinedale Towing.

“You work for the city?” she asked, still trying to convince herself it was okay to trust this old guy.

He smiled. “Sure do. Name’s Henry.” He leaned over and held out his hand. “Been working as a tow truck driver for going on thirty years.”

Sierra was impressed. “Really? That’s a long time.” She unlocked the Jeep’s door and popped the hood.

“You a climber?” Henry asked as he opened the hood to examine the engine.

Sierra shot him a look. “How did you know?”

He chuckled. “No one comes here unless they’re climbers.”

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