“Sure. I’m starving, though.” She headed for the stairs. “You?”

  “Always.”

  He climbed the stairs with her, keeping his steps in time with hers. She asked, “You want me to order something or can you deal with sandwiches?”

  “Whatever you’ve got works for me.”

  “Great. You take Freud out and I’ll pull together something.”

  “Deal.”

  Since she had a variety of cheese and deli meats, a cold sub-style sandwich would have to work. She gathered chips and beers and put everything on the coffee table. She poured kibble into Freud’s bowl and freshened his water. By the time Billy was back with Freud, their thrown-together dinner was ready.

  They dug in. Ate in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Rowan asked, “What did Dressler say about me?”

  Billy finished off his beer. “He’s convinced Addington is still alive and will be coming back for you.”

  “Old news.” She sipped her beer, wished it was something stronger.

  “I told him not to worry, that I’m keeping a close eye on you.”

  “Did he buy it?”

  Billy opened another beer. “Doubt it. He doesn’t trust me when it comes to you.”

  Unfortunate but true. “Is he going to have someone watching me again?”

  Billy shook his head. “He wants me to do it. I wasn’t too worried about it since we have an understanding. You keep me informed and always carry your weapon. But recently I’m a little concerned. Like tonight. You disappeared and I had no idea where you were.” He sent her a pointed look. “And I’m not buying the story you gave Charlotte about having some business to take care of with another client.”

  She sat down her beer and faced his disappointed stare. “I went to see Mr. Utter, Sanchez’s neighbor.”

  “Oh, hell, Ro.”

  “I was careful, and I was armed.”

  Her old friend exhaled a weary breath. “I’m glad for that. What did you learn? He sure as hell didn’t give me or Dressler anything useful.”

  “He lied to you.” Rowan saw no reason to mince words. “He’s known Sanchez for ten or so years, not just the short time they were neighbors. They met in the hospital when Sanchez visited Utter’s dying wife. Apparently, she knew him first from her waitressing days at the steak house.”

  “The landlord confirmed that Sanchez had only lived there for a short time but he had no previous address. Did Utter have one?”

  “He lived in the woods. Utter has agreed to take me there in the morning.”

  Frustration claimed Billy’s face. “Were you going to tell me about this?”

  “I just did.” Rowan picked up a chip and nibbled it just to have something to do with her hands.

  Billy shook his head. “You are the most hardheaded—”

  “You want to go with me?” she asked, hoping to defuse his frustration.

  “If you go,” he warned, “I will be going.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On top of that, I have a homicide. That’s why I came by. I could use your help, if you’re so inclined.”

  “Always. Who was murdered?”

  “Stanley Henegar. The file’s in the truck if you want to talk about it.”

  “Sure.” She bit her lip, decided she would push the request she’d made earlier while he was in need of something from her. Not that she would ever say no to anything Billy needed. “You should give me Herman’s key, you know. He gave me permission to go through his house. I’m not happy you’ve been making me wait.”

  “We’ve both been a little busy, Ro. I can’t have you going in there without me. Not after what he did.”

  Rowan knew this but she didn’t have to like it and she decided not to mention that he hadn’t given her the key before Herman did what he did. “Tomorrow we go right after we check this place where Sanchez supposedly lived.”

  “We can. According to Dressler, it’s Santos,” he corrected.

  “Whatever. He may have buried something in the area. Like the remains of his victims.” She shivered as she thought of what Utter had told her. “He made homemade stew and brought it to Utter on numerous occasions.”

  Billy grimaced. “You think he ate parts of his victims?”

  “He did something with all those remains. Dressler didn’t have a profile on him?”

  “If he did, he didn’t share it. He was tight-lipped on this one. Makes me wonder if there’s a connection to Addington that’s already been confirmed and we haven’t been told yet.”

  “I’m guessing so.” Rowan hated the idea, but it made sense. “If by no other means than an obsession with Norah. Julian’s wife told me that after Norah died, he shifted his obsession from her to me. Maybe Norah was the connection between Sanchez and Addington.”

  You’re all that’s left of her, Ro, and they will all want you.

  Herman’s words echoed through her. She resisted the urge to shiver. The more she learned about her mother, the more she realized she hadn’t known the woman at all. Rowan wondered if her father had felt that same way. She wished he was still alive. There were so many things she wanted to ask him.

  Primarily she just missed him.

  “We need to know what they’re not telling us.”

  Billy’s words drew her back to the here and now. “I can call April Jones.” April Jones was a detective in Nashville who worked in the homicide division’s Special Crimes Unit, where Rowan had been assigned. She was also assigned to the Addington joint task force. She had been a friend, as well. Still was. “She might be able to tell us more.”

  “Call her first thing tomorrow.”

  “I will,” Rowan agreed. Then she added, “I’ll call her on the way to pick up Utter. We’re going into those woods first thing. Then to Herman’s.”

  Billy looked skeptical but she wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  Nine

  Saturday, October 26

  “You’re sure this is the place?”

  Rowan watched old man Utter consider Billy’s question. His eyes were narrowed in concentration as he peered out the window at the dense woods. Rowan’s hopes dropped a little lower. She’d awakened full of anticipation and in a hurry to find some sort of evidence that might help in her search for the truth. Finding Mr. Utter sleeping off a serious hangover on the sidewalk outside his place had deflated her hopes significantly. Thankfully last night’s temperature had not dropped as low as the night before. Three cups of coffee and a stack of pancakes had revived him.

  Still, after the fifth stop along this road with him shouting, “That’s it! That’s it!” and then changing his mind, she was on the verge of giving up. The man clearly had no idea where Carlos Sanchez had lived in these woods—assuming Utter’s story was even true.

  “This is it! I’m positive.” Utter began to wrestle with his seat belt.

  Rowan and Billy shared a look, shrugged simultaneously and then reached for their own seat belts. They were here. Might as well follow the man into the woods and hope they didn’t get lost.

  Billy had come around to the passenger side by the time Rowan was out and hanging the strap of her bag over her neck. He opened the door for the older man and helped him from the back seat of the big crew cab truck. She and Billy both wore boots and jackets. Utter wore sweats that had seen better days and sneakers, the soles of which flopped with each step he made.

  “Hold on a minute,” Billy said to the man. He reached into the bed of his truck and grabbed a pair of rubber boots. “Why don’t you put these on over your sneakers, Mr. Utter?”

  Billy had already offered him a jacket but he’d insisted he didn’t need one.

  When he hesitated, Billy added, “I wouldn’t want you to get your sneakers dirty if we encounter any muddy areas.”

  The fact that it hadn’t rained in several days didn’t appear to cross the older man’s mind. He accepted the boots and tugged them on. It took a minute and he had to lean against the truck, but he got the job done. He pushed away from the vehicle and started for the woods with renewed vigor.

  “He brought me out here once to get something he’d forgotten,” Utter explained as he tromped through the weeds on the side of the road. “Then he got here and remembered he’d already taken whatever the hell it was. I think maybe his memory was going toward the end.”

  Billy’s boots were about three sizes too big but the old man managed. Rowan kept her stride in time with Billy’s, a couple of yards behind Utter. Like her, Billy kept scanning the tree line and the road. Mr. Utter was no threat since either of them could easily overtake him. But there was always the chance Julian had hired him to lead them into a trap. It was a chance Rowan was willing to take herself, but she didn’t like that Billy was in the same precarious situation alongside her.

  When they reached the tree line it was necessary to walk single file.

  “Stay behind me,” Billy said for her ears only.

  Rowan didn’t argue but she didn’t like it.

  The underbrush swiped at her jeans. The fallen leaves cushioned the ground but disguised roots and rocks, making the going treacherous. She checked over her shoulder frequently. The unnerving sensation that someone was watching or was behind them wouldn’t turn loose.

  Sunlight streaked down through the partially bare branches, preventing the dense woods from wrapping them in total darkness. Rowan was grateful for the light, however sparse. Somewhere overhead a crow cawed. She spotted two, three. The dark birds perched on those bare limbs sent another shiver whispering along the length of her spine.

  Utter stopped suddenly and pointed to the right. He waited for Billy and Rowan to move in close behind him before he said, “That’s tent city.”

  If she held her head angled toward her right shoulder and squinted just so, she could barely make out the tops of tents in a clearing fifty or so yards in the distance. The tents weren’t large—they were the type one might use on a camping trip. Some were colorful, as dots of blue and red and green stood out among the drab grays and khaki-colored ones. Three different plumes of smoke suggested communal campfires. She inhaled deeply, noted the smell of smoke and the scent of something she couldn’t quite identify cooking.

  “Is this the same tent city that was once out near the park?” Billy asked their guide.

  “Yeah, about ten years ago. They’ve managed to keep this location quiet,” Utter explained. “Mostly because they ran off all the meth users. Can’t trust ’em. The paranoia makes ’em do crazy stuff.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Billy muttered. “I haven’t heard the first peep about this.”

  “It’s mostly folks who don’t want trouble. Just don’t got no other place to go.”

  Utter moved forward again, progressing in a slight angle left, putting distance between them and the tent-city dwellers. She wasn’t much of a nature hiker, but if her instincts were on target, they were moving toward the base of the mountain. The grade of the land steadily rose ever so slightly. More than one spelunker had gotten lost in this area and had to be rescued. She’d read about a couple over the summer who’d spent days lost in a maze of caves in the area. Sanchez could have bodies and all manner of evidence hidden in this area and no one would ever find it. Her hopes deflated a little more.

  Another caw drew her attention to the trees. The crows had followed them. Either that or there were three more loitering about. Her father had always said that crows had more to say than many birds because they watched more closely than most. Rowan never failed to make a trip to a cemetery without seeing one. Many people were convinced the crows were drawn to the dead, but it was more about the older trees in the cemeteries. The crows liked the security of the big old trees.

  Maybe a quarter of a mile from the tent dwellers, Utter drew to a stop and pointed forward. “It’s maybe thirty yards that way—or it used to be. There’s some climbing involved so I’ll just stay right here if that’s okay.”

  Rather than wait for an answer from Billy, the old man plopped down on the nearest fallen tree trunk. Their winged followers had settled onto a tree limb well above where he’d parked himself.

  Billy glanced at Rowan. “You could stay here while I check it out. I’ll let you know if there’s anything worth looking at, assuming I find more than out-of-control underbrush, rocks and dirt.”

  Rowan flashed him an exaggerated smile. “I’ll just tag along with you, Chief.”

  He nodded, though his expression warned that it was with reluctance. “Suit yourself.”

  Rowan slogged onward, following in the tramped-down trail Billy made. The grade was rockier here and there was a bit of climbing, as Utter had said there would be. The canopy of trees seemed thicker, or maybe the limbs were simply closer to the ground. The sensation was oddly claustrophobic.

  She and Billy spotted what looked like a campsite at about the same time. It was well hidden, against the mountainside and surrounded by trees and underbrush. If not for so many fallen leaves, they wouldn’t have noticed it at all. The top of the primitive shelter was made of cut tree limbs, three layers deep with the center layer placed in the opposite direction from the others. Beneath the canopy of long, dead limbs was an area about eight feet by eight feet that was mostly overgrown with brush and saplings. No sign of human inhabitation. No old fire ring, no discarded cans or other tools or utensils. If not for the canopy of limbs, it could be a naturally formed animal haven.

  Disappointment speared Rowan. All this trouble for nothing. If Sanchez had slept here, that was all he had done.

  Billy crouched down and inspected the ground and mountainside in the small alcove. Rowan glanced around. She supposed Sanchez could have brought his victims here, one by one. If there had been any goods or tools kept around, they were obviously long gone or tangled in all that underbrush.

  “There’s a small access to what might be a cave.”

  Billy’s voice dragged Rowan from the frustrating thoughts. “A cave?” Her pulse reacted to the news. This could be what they were looking for.

  “Maybe.”

  Cutting through the underbrush, she moved to his side and crouched down next to him. “Can you see anything?”

  “You have a flashlight in that bag of yours? It’s a long walk back to the truck.” He pulled out his cell phone and turned on the flashlight app. “This could work, but it’s awkward to hold it when I need to get down on my hands and knees.”

  She reached into her bag and pulled out the flashlight she’d taken from her bedside table and offered it to him. “I have a bottle of water and a protein bar, too, if you’re interested.”

  Billy flashed her a grin as he accepted the flashlight. “You always were prepared.”

  He was right. She’d carried Band-Aids, tissues and breath mints in her purse for as long as she could remember. In school, he’d always snag a mint from Rowan when he wanted to flirt with one girl or the other.

  “Let’s do this, then,” she suggested.

  “You follow when I give you the go-ahead,” he reminded her. “Not before.”

  She gave him a little salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  He shook his head and got into position on his hands and knees. Once he’d crawled beyond the small opening, he disappeared. Rowan sat on her haunches and waited impatiently.

  What was likely only a minute but felt like an hour passed before he called her name. Rowan crawled into the hole, anticipation whirling inside her. Three feet in and the hole in the mountainside yawned open. Billy offered his hand and helped her to her feet.

  He roamed the beam of the flashlight over the walls. Not much over six feet in height and four feet wide, but the tunnel or whatever it was disappeared into the darkness beyond the reach of the flashlight. This was definitely a cave. It could go on for miles.

  Billy settled the glow of the light onto the ceiling above their heads. “I don’t know how safe it is to be in here and what we can expect beyond this point.” He moved the beam over the walls and floor once more. “I’m not seeing anything we can take with us or even any sign there’s ever been another human inside here.”

  “I imagine Sanchez was the kind of man who knew how to cover his tracks.” A man didn’t haul around twenty-six faces and books made from the bodies of his victims without careful planning.

  “No doubt,” Billy agreed. “But I’m not prepared to go any deeper until we have this cave or tunnel—whatever the hell it is—checked out by someone smarter than me when it comes to caves. We’re not adequately prepared.”

  As much as Rowan wanted to keep going, he was right. “Do you know someone who can do a quick inspection? Hopefully today?”

  “I do. When I get back to the office I’ll call and see how quickly he can check it out so we can get a team in here to look around.”

  Even if it took a few more days, it wasn’t the end of the world. She had waited this long; what was a few more hours?

  Outside, she got to her feet and dusted off her knees. Instinctively, she looked around and glanced up. Those damn crows had followed them and watched from high overhead. How strange was that?

  Rowan studied them a long moment, then shook off the eerie sensation their presence elicited.

  Ten minutes later they found Utter sitting on the same tree trunk as where they’d left him.

  “Find anything?” He looked first at one of them and then the other.

  Rowan was happy to allow Billy to handle that question. Her instinct was to keep the tunnel a secret until the authorities had thoroughly examined the area. Besides, there was something knowing about the man’s expression. As if he already knew the answer.

  “Not one damn thing,” Billy said, apparently on the same page as her. “But we appreciate the tip. You never know which ones will pan out.”