The sheriff confirmed through Salt Lake PD that the Barstows’ relatives hadn’t heard from Gerard. Unless he suddenly reappeared, it seemed unlikely that we would be able to find him to question him about what he knew and Evan’s whereabouts.
Instead, we focused our attention on our theory that Evan had fled with Delilah to the mountains. That gave him tens of thousands of acres of forest to hide in. Our only advantage: If he did have Delilah, and maybe a second hostage, he would have to travel slowly. But none of us knew how big a head start Evan had or where he’d go.
The darkness complicated our situation. Traditional tracking methods would be far less effective at night. Ground and vegetation disturbances could be too easily missed.
It made no sense to simply head into the wilderness and hope we’d find Evan. Instead, Max and I drew up a plan. To carry it out, we called in specialized equipment and people to operate it.
I handled the call to the state police. We needed state-of-the-art equipment, helicopters and drones equipped with thermal imaging cameras. Since Evan had a horse, he’d be a big target, generating a lot of body heat. If he had Delilah or any other girl with him, they would give us multiple targets. The disappointing response came first: the drones were unavailable. The agency had three, but they were spread across the state and in use for other cases. The news on the choppers was better; two left immediately to join us, but both were an hour out.
While I worked on getting the choppers, Sheriff Holmes tracked down a K-9 search unit. The dogs, housed at a state prison, would take a couple of hours to reach us. He also contacted one of his SWAT units and requested radio equipment, tactical vests and assault weapons.
Meanwhile, the forensic folks combed through Evan’s house and barn. Once we had the body on its way with Doc Wiley, much of the attention centered on the two rooms fitted with the wall anchors. My heart nearly jumped from my chest when luminol sprayed on a stain on the upstairs pad glowed blue. I understood the results before the tech conducting the test turned to me and said, “Looks like we’ve got blood. Lots of it.”
After the initial testing, they logged the pad and the downstairs mattress into evidence. On the cellar floor, we found a blue dress with a white sash. Delilah’s, I guessed. It looked the way my mothers and the others had described it. We boxed it and sent it to the lab.
The forensic work going well, I looked at my watch. It was closing in on midnight. “How far out are the choppers?”
“Half an hour, tops,” Max said. “The dogs won’t be here for another hour, though. What do you want to do?”
“Let’s speed this up and get in position under the mountain.”
Mullins had called a neighboring ranch, the owner a friend of his, and secured five horses. He had them saddled up—growing up in rural Utah, we were all comfortable on horseback. Since Mullins and Conroy knew Evan—they’d both worked with him when he was Alber’s chief—Max and I decided that bringing them might give us an advantage. We needed the fifth horse for a professional tracker, a contact of the sheriff’s, who’d driven flat out to join us from a town on the other side of Pine City.
I’d just finished suiting up in my bulletproof vest when another car arrived, this one a beat-up red Camry. Stephanie Jonas climbed out carrying two big brown paper bags.
“Stef, why are you here?” I asked.
“I heard about what’s going on,” she said, holding up the bags. “I brought sandwiches, and I want to help.”
She’d risked her job to show me the file room. If she hadn’t, we might not be as far along as we were. I owed her.
I thought about what we needed, and a second set of eyes on the laptop seemed like a good idea. We were all wearing transceivers, so our positions would be visible to the techs on the helicopters, and on the laptop the sheriff would monitor on the ground. “You can compare coordinates on the map with the info coming in from the choppers. Track us to verify that we’re heading in the right direction.”
“Great,” she said.
My morning hard-boiled egg less than a memory, my ham-and-cheese sandwich disappeared in a few bites. As soon as the others finished, I said, “Okay, let’s go.”
We climbed onto our mounts, handguns in our holsters and rifles hanging in leather scabbards on the sides.
“One last reminder,” Max said. He looked around at all of us, making sure we were listening. “Evan Barstow is undoubtedly armed. He’ll be watching for us. Remember, he’s a cop. He’s had the same training we have. Be careful.”
“You got it,” Conroy said. All of us were high on adrenaline, but the kid looked more scared than excited.
“Just listen to orders and keep alert,” I said.
Conroy gave a brave nod.
In a moment, we’d be on our way. But as I pulled the reins and turned my horse toward the mountains, Sheriff Holmes shouted, “Detective Jefferies. There’s a call for you. A woman. Won’t say who she is.”
“Now?”
“Yes,” he said. “She says it’s important.”
He handed me his phone, and I walked my horse a short distance away from the others.
“It’s Jessica Barstow,” the woman on the phone said. “I overheard the deputies you have here at the ranch talking. They said you’re going up into the mountains to look for Evan.”
It surprised me to hear from her, but then I realized that she undoubtedly understood the man she’d married, and what he was capable of. Perhaps she had a vested interest in stopping him. Yet, I couldn’t assume her motives were friendly. “I can’t comment—”
“Detective, there’s a cave up there where Evan and his brothers used to
