The Hunt

Harris stared at him. “Let me ask you something, Agent Peterson. Put your friendship with Sheriff Thomas aside. Can you honestly say everything that could be done has been done?”

“I’m not going to stand here and play Monday-morning quarterback when we have two missing people,” Quinn said. “I can assure you, I have found no fault with the Gallatin County Sheriff’s Department.”

“We’re not a big department. We don’t have the resources for two major missing person’s cases. Maybe the sheriff just needed a little time. He’s been under intense pressure.” Harris attempted to sound understanding, but an undercurrent of disdain was evident in his tone.

Quinn was about to respond when Harris cut him off.

“Perhaps now’s the time to bring in some more of your people,” he said, standing with his hands behind his back. “Since the sheriff is unable to request the assistance at this time, I would be more than happy to do it.”

It was subtle to be sure, but coupled with Harris’s tone, Quinn didn’t miss the insinuation that Nick should have requested additional FBI assistance.

He took a deep breath before answering. “Thank you,” he said diplomatically, “but a pair of agents are already on their way to assist with the interviews. They’ll be here tonight. In fact, I need to get on it right now.”

Miranda burst through the door while asking breathlessly, “Quinn, have they found Nick yet?”

She almost ran into Sam Harris. A look of distaste swam over her face, then she hid it. “Sam,” she acknowledged.

“Miranda,” he said in the same formal tone. He looked back at Quinn. “I’ll be happy to talk to the mayor for you, Agent Peterson,” Harris said with another curt nod.

“What was that about?” Miranda asked as she closed the door behind the undersheriff.

“Hell if I know. Power game?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Last thing we need are egos getting in the way of the job.”

“No word?”

“Nothing.”

“Was Sam acting his usual asshole self?” She rolled her eyes.

“More or less. Harris was right about one thing.”

“What?”

“We don’t have the resources for two major missing persons cases.”

“Don’t say that. We can work them simultaneously.”

“As best we can, we will. But the priority right now is Ashley van Auden.” The phone on Nick’s desk buzzed. Quinn answered it, and a few moments later hung up.

“That was Jeanne Price, the assistant clerk from the Clerk and Recorder’s Office. Apparently, Nick spent five hours copying maps and property records yesterday afternoon.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

Three hours later, Quinn and Miranda sat at the Clerk and Recorder’s Office staring at the piles of maps and land records Nick had pulled.

Neither Quinn nor Miranda could make any sense of the thousand pages of information. When Miranda asked Jeanne Price what specific copies she’d made for Nick, she was informed that Nick made all his own copies.

“Do you think he had a lead and pursued it? Got into an accident or some sort of trouble?” Miranda stared at Quinn, worried.

“Nick’s too smart to go off without backup,” Quinn said. He frowned.

“What?” she asked.

“He was feeling overwhelmed yesterday. Between the press, and the lack of evidence, and the national media coming in-I don’t know. I can’t see him doing anything on his own, but maybe it was a long shot.”

“Long shot. He should have told somebody where he was going!” She’d always been ready to run off in any direction, but Nick had repeatedly insisted she alert dispatch every time she went into the field. Finally, it had become a habit. Why hadn’t he followed his own established protocol?

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t even know where to start.” She stared at the documents in front of her. “Land ownership records going back twenty years… maps of the entire county… he had to have had some thought, but I can’t make the connection.”

“I don’t know,” Quinn began, when his cell phone rang. “Peterson.” He listened for several minutes, then said, “Great, we’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Who was that?” Miranda asked when he’d pocketed the phone.

“Olivia. She’s coming down with the state lab director to talk to your professor. The preliminary results from Quantico came back on the red clay. Your professor was right-it’s from the Four Corners states and the analyst is leaning toward Utah. Olivia is hoping he can take a look at the sample and technical data to narrow it down further. Quantico is calling in an expert from the U.S. Geological Survey, but that’s going to take another day.”

“What about these maps and records?” Miranda stared at the overwhelming stack of paper.

Quinn looked both frustrated and angry. “I don’t know what the hell Nick was thinking. We might spend all day on this and still not come up with something. And frankly, without something specific to go on, we can’t waste any more time here.” He stood. “It’s three o’clock and you haven’t stopped to eat.”

“Neither have you,” Miranda countered. She didn’t need to be baby-sat, though in the back of her mind she appreciated that Quinn noticed.

“My stomach isn’t growling as loudly as yours.”

“My stomach does not growl!”

“Wanna bet?”

She almost laughed. “Let’s pick something up on the way to campus.”

“Fast food?” He wrinkled his nose. “If we must.”

“We must,” she teased.

It felt so good, so comfortable, to be back just chatting with Quinn. Though the stress of the Butcher investigation and now Nick’s disappearance should have made them tense, Miranda realized that they had developed an easy camaraderie. Like they used to have.

She didn’t want it to end.

CHAPTER 25

“Liv!” Miranda exclaimed in the courtyard of Traphagen Hall.

Miranda wrapped her arms around Olivia St. Martin, though she kept the hug short. Olivia didn’t like hugs and casual touches, something Miranda had never understood but respected. Olivia had always been a class act.

“You look good,” Olivia said as she tucked her chin-length bob behind her ear. “Considering you haven’t slept much,” she added with concern.

Miranda glanced over at Quinn and frowned. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“Quinn didn’t have to say anything. I know you.” She touched Miranda’s arm lightly. “Are you doing okay? I know this is a really bad time for you.”

Miranda took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m okay. Really.” She glanced again at Quinn discreetly, but Olivia still noticed.

“You and Quinn patch things up?”

“Not really.” She shrugged. “But it’s a little better. He’s been a rock.” Quinn had always been solid. The realization that she’d started leaning on him again unnerved her. He hadn’t become her crutch by any stretch, but she found herself more comforted by his presence than angered.

When had that happened?

“How are you doing?” Miranda asked.

“I’m okay.”

“When’s the next parole hearing?”

A cloud passed over Olivia’s expression. “Three weeks.”

“That soon? It’s been less than three years since the last one!”