Page 45 of Line of Sight
“Uh-uh. Something was on his mind, and it must have been important because it’s as though he kept repeating it over and over again.”
“Repeating what?”
Dan glanced at him. “Don’t let them find out.”
As for what Mark had been so desperate to keep secret, Dan had no idea.
“So nothing that points to Jennifer?”
He chuckled. “Sorry, but no. I know Riley would love us to prove his theory right, but there’s no evidence for it.”
Riley wasn’t the only one who wanted to prove a link between Jennifer Sullivan and Mark Wilson’s death. The coincidence of the little band of friends being such a short distance from where Wilson’s body was discovered, the names given in the bookings….
Dan’s gut told him there was a link.
All they had to do now was find it.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sunday, August 17, 1997
Acadia National Park
Before dawn
HE HADto be a climber. He couldn’t have been interested in… oh, I don’t know… some hobby that he could do from the warmth of his fuckingbed? What the hell was wrong with these people? Running? Walks through freakingnature? What was wrong with burying your nose in a good book?
Yeah, I was cranky as hell. I tended to get that way when I’d spent a rough night in what had to be the most uncomfortable bedever.I’d gotten up while it was still dark to drive from Camden to Mount Desert island, and now I was in my rental car in a tiny parking lot at the foot of Mount Champlain, hoping Mark Wilson was going to be as big a creature of habit as my previous victims. I’d already taken my flashlight and found the perfect spot to execute my plan—and Mark, of course.
Now all I had to do was wait for him to show.
I wasn’t stressed about it—I didn’t do stress—but the thought of having to organize this shindig all over againreallypissed me off.
The previous day I’d carried out a recon mission, and what had surprised me was how few people were around. I’d expected to find lots of health freaks hurling themselves over boulders and up rock faces, but while I’d seen tons of walkers heading out on roads and paths all over the island, there’d been no one attempting the Precipice Trail, Mark Wilson’s favorite hike if Jennifer had gotten her facts straight.
When I got back to my hotel room, I solved the mystery. The Precipice Trail was closed from the beginning of March until the middle of August, due to peregrine falcon nesting.
You’d better believe I was kicking myself for missingthatlittle gem.
August seventeenth is past the halfway mark, right?
Mark’ll want to get back to his favorite climb after being unable to do that for more than five and a half months, won’t he?
I was also kicking myself for how fuckingwhinyI sounded.
Come on, you’re better than this. Youknowhe’s going to show, right? What does your gut tell you?
Yeah, my gut said everything would work out just fine, because it always did.
Why?
Because I planned for every eventuality, and I was one lucky son of a bitch.
Headlights came into view as a car pulled into the lot. I waited for my first glimpse of the driver, Mark’s college photo on my phone on the passenger seat. When the interior light came on, I smiled.
Bingo.
I grabbed my day pack and got out of the car, ignoring him and heading for the start of the trail. Dawn would make an appearance soon, so I had to be quick. There was always the possibility that some other hiking idiots would get the same idea.
