“The police had no way of knowing who came before or after the party.”

“Why did she run in this direction?” Mud sucked at Morgan’s shoes as she picked her way toward the water and the broken path of reeds that had led to Tessa’s body. “On the other side, there’s a path that leads to the public parking lot, the gazebo, and picnic tables.”

Lance followed her. “There wouldn’t have been anyone there at that time of night to help her. She was running blind, terrified out of her mind.”

But Tessa had barely made it out of the clearing. Morgan stared at the lake, aware in every fiber of her body that a young girl had been brutally murdered on that very spot of marsh. Tessa’s blood had leaked from her body and soaked into the mud. Had she been awake? Had she known she was dying?

Alone in the dark.

They were quiet for a few minutes. A breeze rushed through the reeds, their heavy heads swaying.

The snap of a twig made them both jump. Lance spun toward the sound. He wrapped one thick arm around Morgan, sweeping her behind him.

“What is it?” The hairs on the back of Morgan’s neck lifted as she peered around his body and whispered, “A deer?”

“I don’t think so.” Lance’s gaze swept the trees as he and Morgan backed toward the game trail. “Someone is out here.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lance’s hand automatically went to the Glock at his hip.

The sound had come from deeper in the woods.

“Let’s go back to the Jeep.” He steered Morgan down the path toward the clearing, keeping his body between her and the origin of the noise.

He should have listened to his instincts when they’d first gotten out of the car. But he’d thought they were both spooked by the scene itself.

Oh hell, they still could be.

Morgan pointed toward the impromptu shrine. “Looks like plenty of other people have been here. It’s probably just someone who wants to pay his respects. Or satisfy his curiosity.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Lance said. Was their visitor Jamie Lewis? She’d been at the party, and no one seemed to know how she’d gotten there. Could she be hiding out here in the woods?

“Should we call the police?” Morgan asked as they stepped back into the clearing. Out of the underbrush, they turned and headed for the grass and dirt tract where they’d left the Jeep.

“And say what? We heard a twig snap while we were out in the woods?” Lance put Morgan in front of him and glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see anyone, but damn, he could feel eyes on him.

“Good point,” Morgan said. “But we need to know who’s been hanging around the crime scene.”

“You’re right.” He led the way back to the Jeep. “Let’s allow whoever was here to think we left. Maybe they’ll come out of hiding.”

They returned to the Jeep. Lance turned the vehicle around and drove back toward the main road. When the tires rolled onto the pavement, Lance headed for the public recreation area on the shores of the lake. He parked in the gravel lot. A small beach and the lake lay in front of them. To one side, the gazebo and narrow dock stretched out onto the water. On the other side of the beach, picnic tables clustered under the trees. He removed his binoculars from the console.

“Should we try to sneak up on whoever is out there?” she asked.

“Yes.” He handed the binoculars to Morgan. “First, let’s watch the woods and see if our exit flushed anyone out of their hiding spot.”

They watched and waited. Lance scanned the trees with his camera. Morgan used the binoculars. After fifteen minutes, nothing had moved that was larger than a squirrel. Lance set down the camera. “I don’t see anyone. Maybe there wasn’t anyone there. Can we be that paranoid?”

“I know I can.” Still carrying the binoculars, Morgan opened her car door. “Let’s get a look at the clearing from this approach.”

They got out of the vehicle and walked to the beach. They passed the picnic tables and gazebo. The beach was a man-made sandy spot a hundred feet wide. At the end of it, the shoreline reverted to dirt, weeds, and cattails, then gradually eased back into forest.

“There’s the trail,” Morgan said in a low voice, pointing.

A rough footpath led through the trees. Lance kept a sharp eye out, but saw no one as they walked through the woods to the clearing.

“That was much closer than I remembered.” Morgan paused at the edge.

“Teenagers never use the public area. It’s safer to use the dirt lane and park in the woods. The police have to go out of their way to see them.”

“Some things never change,” Morgan said as they turned back. At the beach, she raised the binoculars to her face again, sweeping the shoreline. She pointed to the woods on the opposite side. “Do you see something black and shiny?”

Lance followed her gesture and spotted another opening in the trees. “Yes.”

“How do we get over there?”

“I’m sure there are game trails all around the lake.”

Morgan started forward. “The police focused on the clearing and the wooded area immediately around it. I saw no statements or pictures from the other side of the lake.”

“No reason to. The body was located. The scene secured.”

“A suspect identified almost immediately,” Morgan added.

They found a path that meandered along the bank. Twenty minutes later, they stood on the opposite bank, staring at a makeshift camp. A black two-man tent had been pitched in a stand of pines. Ashes filled a stone-rimmed circle. A tiny plume of smoke drifted from the center, as if the pit had recently housed a fire. Lance glanced inside the tent. A sleeping bag, cooler, and battery-operated lamp made a cozy space. Next to the sleeping bag, a small shovel, a backpack, and a box occupied the corner.

“Someone’s been camping,” Morgan said. “Can you see what’s in the pack?”

Lance gently lifted the flap. Inside the bag, he saw a pair of jeans, several sweatshirts, and a winter coat. “Clothes.”

“Female or male?”

“Hard to say.” Lance shifted the pack to see more of the items. The clothes looked large, but Jamie Lewis was tall and most photographs he’d seen of her showed her dressing grungy. “There’re also matches, nylon rope.”

“Let me see. Maybe I can recognize the brands.” Morgan leaned over the bag.

A shot rang out through the woods. Lance dove on top of Morgan, pulling her to the ground and covering her with his body. His heart went into a full sprint, his pulse echoing in his ears, blocking out sound like the bass line at a rock concert.

“Did someone shoot at us?” she asked from under him, her voice filled with disbelief. “Or was that a firecracker?”

“Gunshot.” Lance would never confuse the sound of a gunshot with anything else. Pulling his handgun, he scanned the little camp but saw no one to shoot back at. A tent didn’t provide much cover. He spotted a fallen tree. “Can you belly crawl?”

“Yes.”

Lance nudged her toward the moss-covered log. “Get behind that.”

The half-rotted log provided inadequate cover but hiding behind it was better than being completely exposed. Morgan wiggled her skirt higher up her thighs and snaked forward in an impressive army crawl.

The telltale clack of a bolt-action rifle made the hair on Lance’s neck stand straight up. Another shot pinged into a tree ten feet to his left. Morgan moved faster. More concerned about her than himself, Lance kept his bigger body between her and the origin of the shots as he followed her. In two minutes, he had her wedged between the log and his body. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket, called 911, and reported shots fired.