Page 64 of Final Escape
But there was one more place to look.
Drawing in a ragged breath, she snagged a thin, hidden flap along the inner wall of one of the pockets meant for credit cards. She lifted it back, then awkwardly pinched at the edge of a faded photo, trying to snag it. Her head started to spin as the damp leather held on to it...then finally, it began to move.
If there’d ever been a question about Billy’s death being caused by a random hunter, this would put those thoughts to rest.
Because this was his billfold, no doubt about it, and someone had tried to hide all evidence of his campsite, as well.
So who was behind all of this—and why?
* * *
“YES, SIR, I UNDERSTAND. No problem. Maybe we’ll see you next year.” Logan cradled the office telephone and looked over at Penny, who was glaring at her computer screen. “Another cancellation.”
“I figured.” She didn’t look up. “Maybe you could give me some good news for once. I need it, because there’s nothing I hate more than this bookkeeping.”
“I see there are two more late July reservations that came in through the website.”
She angled a glance at him. “Great. Until those people come into town, pull into a gas station or café, and ask for directions or otherwise mention Wolf River Rafting. Maybe we should just save everyone the trouble and add a line to our website, like, ‘By the way, we’re really nice folks but every year, the cops suspect our owner of murder. So when you arrive, he may be at another trial.’”
Logan set his jaw. “I’m not letting it get that far this time.”
“On that note, I got a call an hour ago. The BCI and the sheriff have gone through the woods near that scout camp with a fine-tooth comb, and found nothing more than we already knew—that Billy had camped near there. Nothing that ties him to any crimes in the area or association with a bad element. Nothing that points to his killer.”
“Not the best news.” Logan sighed.
“How can there be so many dead ends? Right now, I’d bet that our county sheriff is busy trying to prove himself right about you. Since we live on this property, I have no doubt they’ll find evidence that you were in the vicinity of the murder atsomepoint.” Penny’s eyes glistened. “With Carrie’s shotgun still missing, how are we going to prove anything?”
“I’m going back out to search for Dante, for one thing.”
“And if that loony old guy gives you a statement, what will that prove? A prosecuting attorney could blast his testimony apart in seconds, just on the basis of his mental history.”
“But hehasgone into hiding. If he didn’t kill Danvers, maybe he saw something and he’s frightened of. If he could even give me a hint, maybe I can find out the truth before it’s too late.”
“That’s our sheriff’s job.” Penny made a sound of disgust. “And I wish he’d do it right. The man should’ve retired years ago.”
“I don’t trust the Lawler County legal system to get this right, either.” Logan drummed his fingers on the desk. “Remember those articles inNewsweek,about how many people are put in prison, then exonerated twenty years later based on DNA evidence? When this is over, I want to push for a review ofallof the convictions since Tyler was elected.”
“And I’d back you a hundred percent.”
He glanced at his watch. “That said, I need to get going.”
At the sound of tires crunching on the gravel outside, they both looked up.
“That’s odd. Carrie’s not due back yet.” Penny stood and went to the window. “And she definitely doesn’t look happy. I wonder what she has in that box?”
He looked out the window, then headed toward the door. “I’ve got a feeling it isn’t good.”
Carrie had her foot on the stairs when they came outside. She backed up and rested the box on the picnic table by the door, then turned to face them. “Bad news. I lost my job.”
“Oh, no,” Penny exclaimed, a hand at her throat. “What happened?”
She pulled a sad face. “I have to admit that the principal and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. But this is just beyond.”
“Because of the murder?”
“Apparently gossip is really flying in town, and a number of parents view me as a Very Bad Influence or something. Most of my students have been withdrawn, so it’s almost a moot point. But, I’m on unpaid leave. Presumably until I’m tried, convicted and hauled away for murder—or so Grover implied.”
“But there aren’t even any charges yet!”
