Allison Brennan - The Hunt

Dr. Eric Fields offered to help with evidence collection at the crime scene, and he and Olivia followed Quinn and Miranda to the highway where Nick’s truck had been found. By the time they arrived, a dozen Sheriff’s Department vehicles lined the road. Two deputies directed the minimal traffic, and crime scene tape had been posted around Nick’s truck.

Quinn doubted Nick was still alive, but he didn’t say that to Miranda.

He wondered what Nick had been after. Had he been following up on a hunch? Why had he gone out without backup? Or at least letting someone know where he was headed. Or, had he simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time?

Sam Harris barked orders to his deputies, then spotted Quinn and Miranda as they got out of the Jeep. “I have everything under control,” the undersheriff said as he approached.

“I’m sure you do,” Quinn acknowledged.

Dr. Fields approached. “Sam, good to see you again.” He extended his hand.

“Dr. Fields. I didn’t know you were down here.” Harris seemed flustered and impressed with the lab director.

“I came down with Dr. St. Martin on another case, and when we heard about Sheriff Thomas’s disappearance, I wanted to see if I could help. We’re heading back to Helena as soon as we’re done here, and I’ll expedite any processing of evidence. Do you think this is connected with the Butcher investigation?”

Quinn didn’t like the way Fields was playing right into Harris’s ego, but then he caught Fields’s eye. The doctor gave him a slight smile and Quinn had to give him credit for diplomacy. Quinn expected Fields was older-and wiser-than he appeared.

“We’re not jumping to any conclusions right now, Dr. Fields,” Harris said. “Sheriff Thomas may have been following a lead in the van Auden disappearance; we’re still piecing together his day.”

“May I take a look at his truck?”

“Absolutely. I have my crime scene technicians processing it right now. I’m sure they would be pleased to have your guidance.” Harris walked Fields over to Nick’s truck.

Quinn couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t think Fields had it in him to manipulate Harris. He seems so… Doogie Hauser.”

Olivia laughed. “Eric has a huge list of credentials, including running the Oklahoma City crime lab. He worked closely with our people after the bombing in 1995 and has been very happy to have our help in his lab. I don’t always get such a warm reception.”

“Harris has been a thorn,” Quinn said.

“I told Nick when he first made him undersheriff that it would be a problem,” Miranda said. “Harris was his opponent in the election.”

“That explains it.”

Miranda’s eyes clouded with unshed tears as she stared down the road at Nick’s truck. “Quinn, Nick’s dead, isn’t he?”

“We don’t know that,” Quinn said, hating to see her hurting. He touched her arm. “We don’t know much of anything at this point. Think positive.”

She looked at him, chewed on her upper lip. “I feel so helpless!”

“You’re not. We have two deputies scouring the files right now based on the information Professor Austin gave us. We’ll have that list narrowed down to a handful. I have two agents coming in tonight. We’ll have answers sooner rather than later. We’re getting close, Miranda. We’re going to get this guy. I can feel it.”

“Before he kills Ashley?”

“God, I hope so.”

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Fields motioned for Quinn. They leaned against Fields’s car.

“Anything?” Quinn asked.

The lab director tapped his bag. “I’m taking custody of the evidence. The interior was wiped clean.”

“No fingerprints?”

“Not Nick’s, not anyone’s, on the steering wheel, dash, or doors. Harris said that he had a witness, a trucker, who called in the abandoned vehicle.”

“Witness?” Quinn fumed. Harris was keeping valuable information from him. Quinn was ready to take over jurisdiction and nail the jerk for obstruction of justice if it continued.

“The witness didn’t see anyone in or around the truck. He drove down this road at one thirty this afternoon, turned south on 191 to eat and gas up at a popular truck stop about three miles down. He logged it all in his book. He left the restaurant at three and the sheriff’s truck was here. He almost hit it coming around the bend. Called it right in.”

“Gives us a time line. Good.” Quinn’s mind grappled with the information. “Someone dumped Nick’s truck. Why? Because he wanted it to be found. There’s a million places it could have been left where no one would find it for days, or longer. He did it to divert attention,” Quinn answered his own question.

“Sounds right to me,” Fields said. “One more thing. Though the car was wiped down, I collected a sample of dirt in the grooves of the brake pedal. At first glance, it looks like the same dark red clay we found in the Douglas murder. It’s a very small sample, less than a gram. I can’t say for sure it’s identical until I run tests, but I think for caution’s sake you should assume it’s from the same source.”

“Meaning, the Butcher has Nick.”

Olivia and Dr. Fields left directly from the scene to return to Helena. Quinn and Miranda headed back to the Sheriff’s Department and upon their arrival, Deputy Booker called them over.

“We have four possibles,” he said, his pale eyes darting back and forth with excitement. “I can’t believe out of all those files, we could narrow it down so fast.”

“Follow the evidence,” Quinn said. “Every detail helps.” He took the list from Booker, mindful that Miranda was looking over his shoulder.

“The first guy,” Booker said, “is still on campus. Mitch Groggins. He’s a cook at the cafeteria. Been there for seventeen years. Forty years old. His mother lives in Green River, Utah.”

Quinn nodded, his entire body humming with anticipation. This was it. The killer was on this list. He felt it.

“Have you talked to his mother? Found out if he visited recently?”

Booker shook his head. “We’ve been busy narrowing down the list, we haven’t had time, I’m sorry-”

Quinn put up his hand. “You did the right thing.” He made a note in his pad.

“The next guy graduated the year after Penny Thompson went missing. He only had one class with her, an advanced biology class, and he didn’t live on campus. David Larsen. He left town after he graduated and got his master’s in wildlife biology at the University of Denver. I checked their records and he’s on staff there.”

Denver-that was in the middle of Colorado. Quinn consulted the map Professor Austin had outlined. Denver was out of the region. Still, a wildlife biologist would probably work outdoors. It warranted follow-up to find out if the guy worked in the field. “How old is he?” Quinn asked as he flipped to the fact sheet in the file Booker had put together.

“Thirty-seven.”

“Okay. Next?”

“Bryce Younger. Thirty-five. Freshman at the time of Penny’s disappearance. He was in the same dorm as her-North Hedges. MSU has co-ed dorms, you know, guys on one floor, girls on another.”

“I know,” Quinn said.

“So, he was on the floor directly beneath hers. They knew each other, had one class together. And get this-he’s from St. George, Utah. He went back there when he graduated and is in construction. Never married, no kids.”

Construction-probably physically fit, capable of subduing a woman.

“Any reason to believe he’s come up to Montana recently?”

“His construction company is pretty big, they have projects all over the western U.S.-including building the new science wing at Missoula.”

The University of Montana in Missoula was about two hours northwest of Bozeman.