by Sarah Sutton
“I understand your frustration sir, I’m so sorry,” she replied. “The National Park Service closed down twenty miles of the trail. We hoped that was enough.”
A flash of anger took hold of the man’s face before his lip curled and he started sobbing. He cupped his face in his hands and closed his eyes, trying to steady himself.
“Do you think my girls are still alive?” he asked through his hands.
His wife shot him a horrified expression.
Tara remembered the scene, the amount of blood, and she knew deep down that anyone who lost that much blood would most likely not survive. Her eyes drifted for a moment to the picture of the girls, which now rested on the coffee table in front of her. They were the center of this family and in Tara’s gut she knew this family would never be the same and it pained her deeply, for she understood it too. But, as she looked at the girls’ parents, she knew she couldn’t extinguish the flicker of hope they had, for it was all they had left.
“We will find your girls,” Tara finally replied. “And we will find the person responsible.”
Chapter Twenty Five
Moments later Tara and Warren stood on the street facing the perfectly lined houses. Warren held his phone to his ear as he listened intently to the forensics analyst on the other end. The analyst had just confirmed that the blood results were in, and Tara waited eagerly as the results were read to Warren. His face remained emotionless and Tara had a feeling the results were only confirmation of what they already assumed.
When he hung up, he spoke to Tara, his voice low to prevent anyone from overhearing even though they were a good distance away. The bustling scene around them had since died down. Many news crews had come and gone and those that remained carefully packed up their vans preparing for their departure.
“It’s almost certain that those girls were the victims,” he started. “They were able to determine from the blood that both victims were female—one in her early twenties, the other late teens.”
His words hung heavy in the air as Tara’s gaze moved to the houses in front of her and became fixated on the one they just came from. She imagined that it would’ve normally been a lively house, but now the blinds remained closed and if she didn’t just come from there, she would’ve assumed no one was home. She knew that house would never be the same. It would never see graduation parties or birthday parties. It would never hold the excitement of the girls getting married, or grandchildren running around. There would always be a hole where those new memories should form.
Tara’s stomach twisted in a knot at the thought. It was a feeling she knew all too well—that someone you loved was never coming home, and there was no doubt in her mind that the girls were not alive. Not only did the amount of blood make her assume the worst, but she also felt it in every bone of her body.
“We need some sort of lead,” Warren finally added.
But movement in the corner of Tara’s eye caught her attention and they darted to the house directly next to the victims’. An old woman was kneeling, weeding a flowerbed in her front lawn. Tara hadn’t even noticed her before, and she wondered how long she had been there. Every once in a while, her eyes would peek up, discreetly looking toward them, and Tara assumed she wasn’t just there to weed, but to get a glimpse of whatever was occurring on her street.
“Maybe we should talk to some neighbors,” Tara finally replied as she nodded her head in the direction of the woman. Warren’s gaze followed, noticing her for the first time.
***
The woman suddenly stood up in anticipation as Tara and Warren approached her lawn. “Can I help you?” she asked with a mix of concern and eagerness as she slid off her flower-print gardening gloves.
Tara flashed her badge. “I’m sure you’re aware of the investigation taking place on the trail?”
“Oh, of course,” the woman said as she placed her hand over her heart. “How could I not? After all that’s been happening on this street—and those poor girls.” She squeezed her eyes hard in anguish and shook her head. “I saw their parents out here earlier. They were hysterical. I can’t even imagine if I were them. I have a daughter too, you know. She’s much older, but the thought of her going missing is heart-wrenching.” She then lowered her voice into an audible whisper as if the parents would somehow overhear. “But I would’ve never let my daughter go camping after all that’s been happening on that trail, even if it wasn’t closed down by us.”
Tara was already starting to dislike this woman and she was sure the victims’ parents probably felt the same. She was nosy, and most likely had opinions about everything her neighbors did. But Tara also knew that a nosy neighbor might also benefit her.
“Anyway, I’m sure you’re not here for my parenting opinions,” the woman continued. “What can I help you with?”
“We were just wondering if you’ve seen any strange activity around here recently. I know there’s often people parking on your street to hike. Has anyone seemed off to you?” Tara asked.
The woman bit her lower lip as she thought. “No, not really,” she said. “I see a lot of hikers on this street, but no one that’s concerned me. This has always been a really safe area.”
Tara continued to prod her, asking if she interacted recently with any hikers, if she’d seen anyone enter the trail late at night, but Tara couldn’t quite get a lead out of her.
“Do you ever see anyone here often that isn’t a hiker?” Tara questioned.
The woman thought for another moment and then looked around her as if checking to make sure no one else was around listening.
“Well,” she whispered. “I always have my morning coffee on the porch, and I’ve been seeing a state park truck out by the entrance a lot lately.” She paused as a thought struck her. “In fact, it was parked there yesterday morning and I saw the girls enter the trail soon after.”
“Do you know when it left?”
The woman shook her head. She had gone to her daughter’s house that night. She was staying over to babysit her granddaughter, and when she arrived back this morning, it was gone, and then soon after the flurry of police activity began.
“And you said you’ve seen it parked there a few times?” Tara asked.
“Mmhm.” She nodded. “Which isn’t all that odd. I’ve spoken to the driver before. He isn’t much of a talker, but he said he just comes to groom the trails. He was a bit strange.”
“Why’s that?” Tara could feel she was on the brink of something and that it was only a few questions away.
“He was just always very anxious,” she replied before a pause. “In fact, I’m not too sure he always told me the truth. I saw him speaking with someone on the phone one day. I take it that it was his boss, but I overheard him saying where he was, and it was not the truth.”
“Did he ever have a four-wheeler with him?” Tara asked.
The woman looked at her in confusion, before Tara realized that she didn’t quite understand what a four-wheeler was. But after explaining to the woman what it looked like, she replied.
“Oh, yes. He’s brought it in the bed of his truck a few times. He said it helped with grooming the trail.”
Tara glanced at Warren. They both knew where they needed to head next and Tara quickly got the man’s name—James—from the woman and a location of the hiking information center he told her he worked at. They then hurried to the car.
***
Tara and Warren stepped out in the unpaved parking lot, and the fresh smell of the forest that surrounded them filled Tara’s lungs. The lot was almost empty except for one lonely car, which Tara assumed belonged to the person managing the information center, which sat between the parking lot and the thick of trees. She didn’t know what she would find—if the man they were looking for would even be here—but she hoped they would at least find answers. If the man was not a suspect, she was hoping he would at least have seen something along the trail.
Tara and Warren quickly walked toward the information cente
r until they opened the heavy wooden door and entered. Hiking gear lined the walls on shelves and hangers, but not one customer was seen throughout the center. Only a young woman stood behind the counter with a phone to her ear.
“Yes, it’s still closed,” she said into the phone. “Yes, unfortunately—I’m not sure yet. I can give you a list of other trails you can hike—yes, I understand.”
At her last words she looked up and noticed Tara and Warren for the first time. She placed the palm of her hand over the phone.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” she whispered before directing her attention back to the person on the other end. “Yes, I’m still here—just keep checking our website, or you can call. I’m sorry, I don’t have any more information for you at this time.”
There was a brief pause before she said her goodbyes and then hung up. She placed the phone down on the counter in front of her and heaved a big sigh before looking up at Tara and Warren.
“Can I help you two?” she asked.
Tara flashed her badge.
“Are you two investigating the Appalachian Trail disappearances?” the woman asked, intrigued.
“Yes, we are,” Tara affirmed.
“Everyone keeps calling about it—asking when the trail’s going to be reopened.” The woman reached for a packet of gum on the counter, took a strip out, and popped it into her mouth. “What do you need to ask me?”
“Do you work with someone by the name of James?” Tara asked.
The woman stopped chewing. “Yes, why?”
“We just wanted to talk to him. Is he around?”
The woman shook her head. “He actually didn’t show up for work this morning.”
Tara’s suspicion suddenly heightened. “Has he ever not showed up for work before?”
The woman nodded as she rolled her eyes. “He’s really annoying. I was supposed to have off today but he never came so I had to come in.” She paused. “He’s been late a lot lately actually and often cuts out early.” She sighed and rolled her eyes again. “Apparently my boss is trying to fire him, but she can’t even get in touch with him.”
“Do you work with him often?”
“Pretty regularly.”
“And do you get along?”
The woman shrugged. “He’s one of those people that are just really hard to read. He’s a bit socially awkward, so he kinda just keeps to himself.”
He was sounding more and more suspicious upon each of her replies, but Tara had a feeling there was more to learn from this woman, and at that thought, she pulled out pictures of the victims.
“Do they look familiar to you?” she asked once the woman’s eyes fixated upon them.
The woman studied them for a moment and then suddenly pointed to the pictures of the first two, the couple.
“I knew they looked familiar on the news,” she said as she looked up at Tara. “They definitely came through here. They were asking how to get to Hanover.”
“Was James working here when you saw them?”
The woman pondered a moment. “Yeah, he was actually,” she said. “He was the one who gave them directions, which was odd, because usually he tries to avoid the customers.” A silence lingered for a moment.
“Do you have his address?”
“Yeah, here.” The woman shifted to the computer, looking it up, and then reached for a piece of paper to scribble it down. She handed it to Tara.
Tara thanked her, before asking her for her phone number, in case they needed to contact her with any more questions. She scribbled it down as well.
Warren then stepped forward, handing her his card.
“Let your boss know if he contacts either of you, to call us immediately.”
Chapter Twenty Six
“Looks like someone’s home,” Warren said as he pulled up to a small, weathered farmhouse with a beat-up van sitting in the driveway.
Tara nodded. “Let’s just hope it’s his.”
She wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but she had this feeling they were closer than they ever were. All the signs pointed to this man—he had been spotted at a crime scene, showed odd behavior, and had met two of the victims and directed them to where it’s believed they went missing. There was a very strong possibility that he was the killer they had been looking for all along.
As they stepped out of the car, Tara’s eyes darted to movement in a window next to the front door—it was a curtain falling—and a shiver flowed up Tara’s spine.
Warren saw it too. “Looks like someone knows we’re here,” he said.
Seconds later they stood on a worn-out welcome mat as Tara knocked on the door. A few moments went by, but no one answered and they waited in silence as an unsettling feeling washed over her. They knew someone was home—whoever it was had seen them—yet they intentionally chose to not answer. Tara was about to knock one last time, but just when she lifted her fist to the door, they heard a shuffling inside and the door opened slightly.
Just through the crack, they saw the bloodshot eyes of a man. He squinted, as if the sun hurt him, and stepped a bit further back into the darkness behind him.
“Hello,” Tara said cautiously, while allowing her hand to fall near her gun just in case. “Is James Hayden available?”
The man stepped a bit closer to the door, opening it slightly more.
“I’m James,” he said. He opened his eyes wider, revealing their piercing blueness. They were swollen and tired, as if he hadn’t slept in days. “Who’s asking?”
“My name is Agent Mills, this is Agent Warren,” she said. “You work at the hiking information center not too far from here, correct?”
“Yes, why?” he asked sharply.
“We were just hoping to ask you a couple questions,” she began. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the missing persons reports on the Appalachian Trail?” Tara asked, carefully easing into the conversation.
He just stood there, silent, with no change in his expression or body language, and Tara had a hard time reading him. When she realized he wasn’t planning on answering, she continued. “We have reason to believe that two of the missing persons may have come to the information center, and we were hoping you might be able to help us with piecing together their timeline,” she mentioned with her hand still a millimeter from her gun.
Again, he didn’t respond and his eyes squinted as he studied her face. He didn’t trust her, Tara could tell, and she braced herself for whatever his next move could be.
“Can we come in?” she finally asked. At her question, he raised his eyes to meet hers, staring intensely into them.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied with a strange softness in his voice, before a smile crept on his face.
Tara’s hand moved even closer to her gun and she gently placed her hand on top of it. “And why is that?” she asked.
“My place is a mess,” he replied, as his eyes moved toward where Tara’s hand now rested. He stared at it for a brief second and again smiled. “Am I making you nervous?” he asked.
His response was strangely forward, with an unwavering confidence that Tara knew any right-minded person wouldn’t have in a situation like this.
“Why would you be making me nervous?” she asked.
He stepped a bit closer to the door. “It’s okay. I make a lot of people nervous.” He looked from Tara to her gun. “Can I hold it?”
“Hold what?” she asked, confused, as she grasped her gun tighter.
“It’s okay. I won’t take it from you,” he said before backing into his apartment, into the darkness.
Tara stared in through the crack in the door, but the room was too dark, and all she could see was his outline, and hear him shuffling things around.
“Sir, please stand where we can see you,” she said, her gun now out of the holster, and held straight out in front of her.
Warren did the same.
“Sir!” Tara yelled again. “Please show us your hands!”
“I
just want to show you something,” he replied, without an ounce of fear in his voice.
“She said show your hands!” Warren screamed.
“But I—” He inched forward again, his body becoming more visible as he stepped into the light. “I have one just like it,” he added with an odd lightness to his voice.
He stepped fully into the doorframe, and Tara felt her heart begin to pound as she saw exactly what he was referring to. Placed against his temple, his hand holding it steady, sat a 9-millimeter pistol.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” he began, his finger now placed on the trigger.
She didn’t quite know what he was referring to but she didn’t have time to question him either. She slowly lowered her gun.
“James, please put the gun down,” she said, watching his hand carefully.
“Why?” he asked sharply, his face tense with rage, “Why should I put it down? Huh? So you can shoot me?”
Tara chose her words carefully. “We are not going to hurt you, James. I promise.” She placed her gun in her belt as she raised her arms toward him to prove her words.
He whimpered as his face distorted into frustration. He bit his lip before opening his mouth to speak.
“I have nothing to lose!” he screamed, now waving his gun in the air. “Nothing!” he screamed again. “No one can help me.” He was full-on sobbing now.
Tara suddenly realized how stupid it was to put her gun down. She had wanted to keep him calm by doing so, but now she was left without a defense. She moved her hand cautiously to it again, but just when her hand was on top of the holster, James caught the movement, and his gun turned toward her.
“I knew I couldn’t trust you!” he screamed.
And suddenly, a piercing bang filled the air.
***
Tara stood in silence—a constant ringing still pulsating through her ears. About twenty minutes had gone by, but she could still feel it. It hadn’t taken long for the ambulance to arrive, and for James Hayden to get put on a stretcher, for his leg to get bandaged up, and now the EMTs were carefully placing him into the ambulance.