Vendetta (19 page)

“You've already done so much, Sam—”

“You don't think I'm involved in this?” Sam's frown deepened. “I want this guy as much as you do. He killed at least six girls, and I couldn't bring him in. That alone keeps me up at night, and I'm sure I could say the same for you, because the emotional drain is starting to show in your eyes.”

Nikki let out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

“Irene is planning to make some of her famous banana pancakes before the two of you head off, but then I'm going to send her to her sister's for the next couple of days until all of this blows over. Just in case this guy decides to come back.”

“I think that's a good idea. And, Sam—” Nikki's phone rang and she pulled it out of her pocket. “Thank you again. For everything.”

Sam folded his arms across his chest. “We're going to find this guy. And once we do, we're going to find a way to put him away for the rest of his life.”

Nikki answered the call.

“Nikki? This is Ranger Anderson.”

“Morning, is everything all right?”

“Looks like we might have a new lead on your girl. I just got a call from one of our regular volunteers who works here at the park. He made a run up to one of the campsites to do some routine maintenance. While he was there, he found a ring. Said he didn't think anything about it until he was watching the news this morning.” Anderson hesitated. “It matches the description of the ring Bridget was wearing.”

Nikki met up with Jack and Gwen at the mobile command center just after six thirty with a large coffee in hand, still trying to pump enough caffeine into her body to override the lack of sleep. She'd already shared with them the details of what had happened earlier that morning, keeping her thoughts of quitting to herself. Tyler had convinced her not to make any hasty life-altering decisions, but that didn't mean she was done considering it.

Low clouds gathered above them, leaving a light mist in the air as the predicted storm continued to roll in. Weather between March and May was always unpredictable. And while April was typically mild, severe storms during this time of year weren't uncommon, including tornadoes, strong winds, and even snow flurries given the right conditions—easily destroying any evidence potentially left behind by their abductor.

For now, though, all she could do was follow their latest lead and pray it was the break they needed. She could still hear his voice replaying in the back of her mind and wished she could understand what game he was playing. Maybe he'd really had Bridget's ring, but as far as she was concerned, he could just as easily be using the ring to throw them off.

Kyle arrived right behind them, wearing the same long-sleeved shirt he'd had on yesterday. Someone had apparently convinced him to sleep a few hours at one of the local hotels, but she couldn't help but wonder if he'd slept at all.

“Did you get any sleep?” she asked him.

“Not really.” Kyle's eyes were puffy, his frown pronounced. “I was just told you might have a new lead.”

Nikki glanced at her teammates, not wanting to get his hopes up on a lead that may or may not go anywhere. “One of the volunteers who works in the park found a ring yesterday at one of the campsites. We believe it's Bridget's.”

Kyle's face paled. “Our mother gave it to her for her birthday when she turned fourteen. She never takes off that ring. If he killed her, then—”

“We don't have enough information yet to know what happened at this point, Kyle.”

“But if it
is
hers . . . It's been over twenty-four hours, and we don't have any proof she's still alive except for this ring? If she's dead—”

“You can't start thinking that way, Kyle.” Nikki shook her head. “Not now. Not ever. All you can do is take one day at a time and keep praying for that miracle.”

“What do you want me to do in the meantime?” he asked.

“Exactly what you've been doing. Keep answering the phones. Send out approved updates on Facebook and to the media. Make sure the volunteers that will be arriving soon have plenty of flyers. What you're doing is making a difference. The more people who see her face, the better our chances are of finding her.”

“You'll tell me if you find out anything, won't you?” Kyle asked.

She nodded. “You know we will.”

But Nikki caught the doubt in his eyes. The realization that you were stepping deeper and deeper into a nightmare with every day that passed. And there was no way to know when
you'd be able to wake up. It took all of your energy. All of your rational thoughts. And sometimes, your very sanity.

“Anderson should be here any minute with Randall Cooper, the man who found the ring,” Nikki said after Kyle left. “We can interview him as soon as they get here.”

Gwen shook her head. “We'll keep going through Bridget's online profiles. I'm still convinced he had to have slipped up somewhere.”

All they needed was one mistake.

Nikki glanced at her watch as she walked into the conference room. “Gwen, get an update from the local authorities who were watching the phones last night, then go ahead and get the volunteers up to speed.”

“You got it.”

Statistics played through her mind like a funeral dirge. Seventy-five percent of abducted kids were dead within the first three hours. And they were way past that timeframe.

Anderson showed up at the door to the conference room, carrying the ring in an evidence bag and wearing his uniform and “Smokey the Bear” hat.

“Morning.” He set the evidence bag in front of her on the table. “Cooper's on his way here now.”

“Morning. That's great.” Nikki smiled up at him. “Before we get started . . . I know I thanked you yesterday, but please make sure your wife knows how much I appreciate the clothes.”

Irene had washed and dried Nikki's clothes, but she'd opted to wear the warmer fleece with today's drop in the temperature.

Anderson chuckled. “It's not the first time she's come to someone's rescue, but I'll be sure to let her know.”

“Thank you.” Nikki set down her coffee, then picked up the photo of the ring they'd gotten from Bridget's Facebook account and compared it to the ring itself. Anderson had been right. The sterling silver floral band was a perfect match.

She held up the ring to the light and read the inscription.

To my Bridget with love.

There was no doubt it belonged to Bridget.

She glanced up as Jack walked into the room, his eyes still red, his face blotchy. “It's definitely a match.”

He picked up the bag and read the inscription out loud, then sat down. “Wow, I guess there's no question there.”

“Mr. Cooper . . . ,” Nikki said. “What exactly does he do here in the park?”

“A bit of everything.” Anderson folded his arms across his chest. “He's been volunteering for five . . . maybe six years and has been involved in everything from assisting in the visitor center to maintenance to litter control. Yesterday we sent him up to fix a cable that had snapped on one of our food storage systems that keeps away the bears. He's pretty willing to do whatever we need.”

“So you would classify him as a reliable witness?”

Anderson nodded. “Don't know why not. I've never had any reason to doubt his character before.”

“Good. Anything else you can think of before he gets here?”

Anderson set his hat on the table and shrugged. “He's a hard worker who keeps to himself mostly. A bit eccentric, I suppose, but he's friendly and the tourists love him. He spends his off time searching for planes that have gone down in the park and has his own share of ghost stories to tell, but for the most part, he's just another volunteer with a love for the outdoors.”

“Is that common?” Jack asked. “Hunting for downed planes?”

“You'd be surprised. It's a bit like geocaching, but they call it wreck-chasing. In this park alone, there's been over fifty recorded crashes over the past few decades. And like missing people, a handful of them have never been found. Which means you've got treasure hunters, conspiracy theorists, and even proponents of alien abductions searching on any given day.”

“But you don't think he's capable of kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping?” Anderson shook his head. “I didn't think Cooper was a suspect.”

Nikki leaned forward, realizing she was the one sounding like a conspiracy theorist. But if Tyler was right—if this guy
was
playing games with them—they couldn't assume anything. “He's not at this point, but after last night, I'd put the pope on my suspect list if he gave me a reason.”

Anderson frowned. “I understand that, but Cooper's an older man who volunteers.”

“He also has time on his hands
and
knows the park. I'm just making sure I don't miss anything.”

“I'm sorry. You're right to not cut any corners.” A call came in on Anderson's radio. “He's just arrived at the visitor center. I'll go get him.”

Jack leaned against the table while they waited for Anderson to return. “You really think this guy's involved?”

“I have no idea, but the hat, the phone, and now the ring . . . This guy isn't sloppy. And we know now that he's playing with us.”

“Any theories as to why?”

Nikki turned to Jack and caught his gaze. “Why does anyone abduct a sixteen-year-old girl and murder her in cold blood? He's killed a minimum of six girls. Made them disappear without a trace. That's careful and calculated. Not sloppy, like leaving a hat or a ring in plain sight. He might think this is a game . . . but it's one we're going to win.”

A couple of minutes later, Anderson stepped back into the room with Randall Cooper. He offered him an empty chair and made quick introductions. Nikki shook his hand, then took another sip of her coffee as she studied the older man. Like all the volunteers, he wore UPS-colored brown pants and a khaki button-down shirt with a name tag. Late fifties, five foot ten, and clean-shaven with a light, jagged scar on his right cheek, he was clearly in good shape physically for his age.

“Mr. Cooper.” Nikki sat back down in her chair next to Jack. “I appreciate your coming to talk with us so early. I understand you have possible information for our missing persons case.”

“I hope so. It was pretty upsetting to hear about that girl this morning. We see it here in the park from time to time, but it's usually because they take a wrong turn or run into a bit of bad weather. Not an abduction. That's frightening.”

“Yes, it is,” she said, certain the tourists must like the man, with his warm smile and friendly disposition. “How long have you been working in the park?”

“Six years in August as a volunteer. I retired early, so I'm here pretty much full-time. Don't live near any family, and it beats sitting around doing nothing.”

“What kind of work are you involved in, here in the park?”

“I've done it all, but right now I'm what they call a Cultural Resource Interpreter. Most days, though, I'm called into other jobs, depending on what is needed for the day.”

“What exactly is a Cultural Resource Interpreter?”

“Basically, I share the cultural history of the area with the visitors. That and a few ghost stories thrown in for free.”

“I've always wondered why there were so many ghost stories around these mountains,” Jack said.

Cooper chuckled. “It's been said that the Smoky Mountains have more ghost stories per square mile than any other spot in the country. My father grew up around here and used to tell them all the time. The explanation's simple, really. You've got Cherokee history, tales left behind by frontiersmen, two wars, and two peoples with a knack for storytelling—the Cherokee and the Scots-Irish. Even if you don't believe in ghosts, you have to love a good story.”

Nikki frowned. No doubt her father—and apparently Jack as well—would enjoy spending an afternoon swapping stories with this man, but today they needed to concentrate on finding
Bridget. “Where were you working yesterday afternoon, Mr. Cooper?”

The older man turned his attention back to her. “I was out fixing one of the cables that had snapped up at one of the backcountry sites.”

“Besides the broken cable, did you see anything else unusual in the area?”

“No. Met the usual folks along the way. Most of them are just looking for a quiet place to get away from their busy lives for a little while.”

“Did it appear that anyone was staying at the campsite where you were?”

“I'm not sure if anyone was registered or not, and I didn't see anyone. But most people were probably on that trail at that time.”

Nikki made a note to check out the registry. According to park regulations, anyone who planned to stay overnight had to not only reserve a campsite or shelter but also carry a permit.

“I guess this isn't the first time you've been asked to be on the lookout for someone who's gotten lost up in the mountains,” she said.

“Hardly. A couple dozen go missing each year. Most are found within a few hours, thankfully. Others, well . . . there are a few who aren't quite so lucky.”

Nikki set the ring on the table. “Tell me about the ring you found.”

Cooper clasped his hands in front of him. “Didn't think much of it when I found it, to be honest. I planned to drop it off at the lost and found, figuring some girl would be missing it. By the time I got back, though, I'd completely forgotten about it. Until I watched the news this morning. Sent shivers up my spine when I saw the description of the girl, including the ring she was wearing. Then when the name on the ring was the same . . . well, I could be fairly certain it was hers.”

“And you did what with the ring after that?”

“I took it straight to the police station. They told me they'd make sure the detectives investigating the case—which I presume is you—would get it.”

“And you found this ring near one of the shelters?”

Cooper nodded. “After I fixed the broken cable, I decided to clean up a bit. That's when I found it.”

“Where, exactly?”

“Near the fire ring. At the time, I figured the owner must have been cooking over the fire and it slipped off. They were lucky it didn't fall in the fire.”