Page 110 of Montana Manhunt

“Good idea. I’ll get on that as soon as we finish this.”

They talked about each murder victim, but Violet could not offer more information on the others.

“Did Camilla mention the murders to you?” Noah asked.

“She talked about positive or fun things happening in Morrison and the surrounding area. It was her way of making sure I didn’t worry about her.”

“Did you talk to your Aunt Rosalie at all?” Rayne asked.

“Never. When she kicked us out of the house, she cut ties with us. Occasionally, Cami would cross paths with her in town.”

“How did your aunt react?”

“Ignored her or made some cutting remark.”

Noah’s heart ached anew at those words. How could Rosalie Trevelyan treat her own kin like that? “Rosalie’s loss.”

Violet gave a slight nod. “Cami was special. I’m sorry my aunt never figured that out.”

“You’re positive you didn’t know the rest of these women, Violet?” Grant asked.

“I don’t recognize the names or remember Cami mentioning them.”

He frowned. “That shoots down one theory.”

“What theory?”

“The one that pins you in the bullseye of this map. You aren’t the connection between the victims.”

She studied the map. “Why would I be in the center of these crimes?”

He shrugged. “It was a starting point since the murders began your senior year, and the only thing you’ve mentioned besides having to fend for yourselves is your run-in with Fitz Hanson.”

Rayne’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the screen. “And Noah thinks the perp is a cop.”

“That might be a viable theory if Hanson was broken up about Violet refusing to sleep with him.” Noah squeezed Violet’s shoulder gently. “He was angry but not devastated by the refusal. He just moved on to the next woman.”

“We need to find out if you’re right,” Grant murmured.

Noah clenched his teeth. Hanson was the last man he wanted near Violet. Unfortunately, his friend was right. The swaggering cop had answers if he’d share them. No guarantees on that. He had a chip on his shoulder and an attitude that rubbed Noah the wrong way.

With a growl, he grabbed his phone and called Zane. When his friend answered, Noah said, “I need a location for a Morrison cop. Name’s Fitz Hanson.”

Silence, then, “Is this the clown who gave Violet a hard time her last year of high school?”

“That’s the one.”

“Do me a favor.”

“Name it.”

“Punch him for me.”

Noah snorted. “I wish, buddy. I’d rather not end up in jail.”

“Too bad. Hold.” Seconds later, Zane said, “You will not believe this, but he’s sitting in a donut shop on Maple Road.”

Seriously? Hanson would give all cops a poor reputation if he camped out in donut shops. Noah couldn’t count the number of citizens who either teased or insulted him with remarks about cops and their donut consumption. They forgot that most restaurants weren’t open overnight. Coffee and donut shops kept odd hours. “Monitor him. We’ll head out in five minutes.”

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