“She never contacted you once?” Macy asked.

“I received a postcard from Dallas about a year after she left. She mailed it to the trailer, and it was forwarded to me at college. I called the number she’d written in her note, but no one answered.” He leaned back, as if distancing himself from a memory. “You’re both in law enforcement, and you must know the odds for a seventeen-year-old runaway aren’t good.”

“I’ve seen the odds beaten before,” Macy said.

“Then why wouldn’t my sister contact me?” Bruce said.

“I don’t know,” she said. Macy studied him silently. “Why would Cindy befriend a band kid, a math geek like Tobi? Seems like apples and oranges.”

“Cindy was good at working the angles. She needed money for the drugs. She was probably using the girl.”

“Did Cindy ever mention Tobi?” Macy asked.

“Not to me.”

“Did Cindy go to the bonfires?” Nevada asked.

“Yes. She loved being around the team,” Bruce said. “The football team adopted me, and I guess she hoped they would adopt her as a mascot.”

“Did they?” Macy asked.

He dropped his gaze, plucking a thread from his pant leg. “Not really.”

Macy tapped her index finger against her notebook. Nevada had seen that look before. The wheels were turning, which they would do constantly until she cracked this case.

“Thank you for your time,” Macy said as she handed him a card. “If you think of anything, no matter how inconsequential, call me.”

Bruce locked gazes with Macy. “You said you’ve seen the odds beaten before. Do you think my sister is still alive?”

“Do you?”

“I hope so.” Bruce looked sincere, but that didn’t mean much. Nevada had seen stone-cold killers convince a judge and jury of their innocence.

“Call the number after you’ve given our conversation some thought.”

Macy shifted in her seat, ignoring the discomfort in her leg as Nevada drove by Debbie Roberson’s house. It was a small one-story brick structure that backed up to woods. “Just the kind of place our boy likes,” she said.

Nevada parked and the two got out. She walked up to the mailbox and opened the door, finding a couple of days’ worth of mail inside. They followed a gravel path to the front door.

She rang the bell, and both waited for a sign that someone was inside. There was nothing.

“Have a look around back?” he asked.

“I also want to look in the bedrooms by the side windows.”

“Sure.”

Around the side of the house, she pushed through a tall thicket of shrubs to a window. She studied the ground but saw no signs of a footprint. Still careful not to step directly in front of the window, she rose up on tiptoes and peered into the window.

“It’s a bedroom.” The bed was unmade, and there was a collection of clothes on the floor. It was messy, but there didn’t appear to be any signs of trouble. It could have been her room after several days of working a case.

They walked around the back toward a small patio. Nevada went first, watching the path closely as they approached the brick deck. He held up his fist, indicating for her to stop.

“What is it?” she asked.

He squatted and studied the imprint of an athletic shoe. “Looks to be about a size ten to twelve.”

Macy stepped around him and tried the back door. “It’s locked.” She peered through the window to see a chrome dinette set covered with craft supplies, including paints, a glue gun, and sparkles. “No signs of trouble. Debbie could have blown off work and gone on a trip.”

“I’ve got basic forensic equipment in the car. I can make a plaster cast of the shoe impression. It might be overkill, but better safe than sorry, especially if the weather turns bad.”

“After you make the cast, let’s head over to the park and see if anything new has developed. I’d also like to track down her roommate, who might have a better idea of what Debbie’s been doing.”

The sun overhead was bright when Macy followed Nevada in her own vehicle to the park where Debbie Roberson’s car had been found. They had opted to take separate cars, knowing the investigation at this stage could take them in different directions.

Neither was sure where this development would lead, or if it were even connected at all to their investigation. But the red rope found in the trunk was a significant warning flag that couldn’t be ignored.

They had at least three hours of daylight remaining today, which would be a big help if a preliminary search of the park’s surrounding woods needed to be conducted.

Nevada’s SUV pulled into the park’s entrance next to a muddied red SUV with a gray magnetic sign on the side reading WILDERNESS EXPERIENCE. The back tailgate was open, and it was loaded with survival gear.

Macy grabbed her FBI windbreaker from the back of her car. On the other side of the lot, Bennett was talking to two young hikers.

By the time Macy crossed the lot, Ellis Carter was out of her vehicle and talking to Nevada. The two appeared to be discussing the trail and Roberson’s vehicle.

Macy walked up and offered her hand to Ellis. “What brings you here?”

“I texted her,” Nevada said. “She works with the search and rescue teams. Whenever we have a lost hiker, Ellis goes out.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, given her connection to the case?” Macy asked.

“She’s the expert. If anyone can be found in those woods, it’s her.”

“And doing something makes me feel less like a victim,” Ellis said.

Macy understood that sentiment all too well. “Nevada, do you really think it’s as simple as Debbie getting lost on a hike?”

Nevada looked at his cousin. “Ellis is the expert on the trail.”

“The last few days have been near perfect and would attract hikers.” Ellis glanced up at the mountains behind them. “That trail starts off easy and can lure you into thinking it’s a piece of cake. She could have gone up it, been fooled, and found herself in trouble.”

“Fall into one of the hollows up there and you won’t get any cell service,” Nevada said. “A hike gone wrong would explain a lot.”

“What’s there to explain?” Ellis asked.

Nevada didn’t hesitate to add, “Macy believes Debbie Roberson is the type of woman our offender would take.”

Ellis stilled for a beat. “The man who came after me?”

“Yes,” Nevada said.

Ellis rolled her head from side to side and glanced off at a distant mountain before she nodded. “Oh, hell yeah, I’ll search this trail for you. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to help catch this guy.” She checked her watch. “I can be back in a few hours.”

“I’ll go with you.” Nevada wasn’t a man to let his cousin make that hike alone and unarmed.

“It makes sense that you search the trail and eliminate that possibility,” Macy said, looking at the car and the mountain. “I’ll text my forensic artist, Special Agent Spencer, and tell her to expect you tomorrow morning instead of this afternoon.” She was typing before Ellis could answer.

“Good,” Nevada said.

Agent Spencer texted Macy back almost immediately with a curt, Understood.

“I’ll change,” Nevada said. “I have gear in my car.”

“Burning daylight, cuz,” Ellis said.

The crow’s feet etched near the corners of his eyes deepened when he smiled at Ellis. “I hope I can still keep up with you.”

“Bet you can’t,” she said.

As he walked away, Macy asked Ellis, “Tell me about the search and rescue crew.”

“We’re based in Harrisonburg and serve the central valley area. When the sheriff’s office has a lost person, they call us, and then I put out a call for certified search volunteers.”

“And you’ve worked with Nevada before?”

“A few times when we needed an extra hand. He used to be part of the search crew when he was in college. Last week Mike helped me find an elderly dementia patient who’d walked out the back door of the Deep Run assisted living facility. It was cold as hell, but Nevada stayed with me until we found the man sitting on a fallen tree two miles away without a stitch of clothing on.”

“Did the facility say how the man got out?”

“They’re investigating.”

Nevada returned still wearing his ball cap, but he’d pulled on a lightweight sweatshirt and changed into a pair of well-worn hiking boots. He hefted a small backpack of survival gear.

“Did anyone suggest that Debbie could be suicidal?” Macy asked Nevada.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“How cold has it been here the last few nights?” Macy asked.

“Midthirties,” Ellis said. “Cold enough to freeze to death without the right gear.”

The trio crossed the lot toward Debbie’s vehicle, a blue 2008 Chevrolet sedan. She searched around the vehicle for footprints or signs of a struggle. There were footprints, but none appeared to be a man’s athletic shoe. She snapped pictures with her phone.