Rob opened his mouth, but Adam was right. It wasn’t impossible. A kid in California had beheaded his mother only a few weeks earlier for nagging him about cleaning his room. The adolescent brain was a scary thing.

He said—not arguing, just offering another possibility, “She could have witnessed the slaying and fled.”

Adam nodded. “Yes. Though it’s hard to understand why she hasn’t come forward, if that’s the case.”

“Maybe she can’t.”

“Meaning?”

Rob shrugged. “She’s injured?”

Adam opened his mouth to point out the obvious: there was nothing to indicate a second struggle. Rob headed him off. “Either way, we need to get back to the station.”

“Is her cell phone here? Laptop?”

They conducted a quick search. The laptop sat on Tiffany’s desk. There was no sign of her cell phone.

“If she’s carrying her cell, it gives us a starting point. If we can get a court order—and I’m sure we can in the case of a missing minor—the phone company can try pinging her. So long as her battery is charged—”

“That’s a great idea,” Rob interrupted. “But you may have noticed reception is sketchy out here. I don’t think we can put a lot of hope on that cell phone.”

Adam conceded this point reluctantly.

They left Tiffany’s bedroom and walked through the quiet rooms toward the front of the house. Adam didn’t say a word, and that was actually a relief. Not that Rob believed the world was all sunshine and lollypops. This wasn’t routine for him, and it wasn’t an academic equation. He knew these people. This was his community, his home. These were his friends and neighbors. At the very least they were his charge, his responsibility.

And he had failed to keep them safe.

The front door lock scraped, and the door inched open. A crack of wintry daylight framed the entrance. Rob reached for his weapon, unhappily aware that he should have unsnapped the flap, should have been ready to draw—he was distantly aware that Adam was doing the same, had already pulled his weapon.

“FBI,” shouted Adam with a ferocity that raised the hair on Rob’s neck. “Identify yourself.”

Jesus Christ, has he—? Yes, he had. Rob knew with absolute certainty that at some time in the past Adam had had to shoot to kill.

At the same time Rob yelled, “Sheriff’s deputy. Don’t move!” as the tall figure froze inside the entrance hall.

“Fuck!” Zeke’s shocked and angry voice floated through the gloom. “What the fuck are you doing, Haskell?”

Good question. Until that instant, Rob hadn’t recognized how uneasy he was, how on edge. Not just him. Adam too. In fact, Adam more so. Spooked. They had both been spooked, even though there was every likelihood that whoever was on the other side of the door was fellow law enforcement.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rob retorted, lowering his weapon. He noticed Adam was a lot slower about standing down, and he was glad. Zeke deserved a good scare for this one.

“Looking for Tiffany,” Zeke said. The snow-scented breeze swirled through the hall. “Aggie finally got hold of the friend Tiffany was supposed to be spending the weekend with. Tiffany claimed she was coming down with some kind of stomach bug. Her mom drove down and picked her up Thursday night.”

“Why would no one at the school know that? How could there not be a record of that?” Rob asked.

“How the hell should I know? Because teenagers don’t always follow rules? And sometimes parents don’t either?”

Adam holstered his weapon. “You said that, according to Tiffany’s friend, Tiffany claimed she was feeling sick. Did the friend not believe her?”

Zeke said sourly, “She said this flu bug came on Tiffany suddenly. No, I don’t think she believed Tiffany was really sick.”

“I see.” Adam didn’t look at Rob.

“Let’s get back to base,” Rob said.

“There’s no sign of her here?” Zeke stared from Rob to Adam.

“There are signs she was here,” Rob said. “There’s no indication of what happened to her, or where she may have gone.”

“Maybe she’s our perp,” Zeke said.

Rob stared at him. Adam had suggested the same thing, but somehow hearing it from Zeke made Rob angry. “That’s the first thought that occurs to you? How do you figure a small girl like Tiffany overpowered a tall woman like Cynthia and then lifted her onto that burial display? And why would she do such a thing?”

“Kids are crazy. Look at that kid in California. Anyway, she’s a cheerleader, and everybody knows cheerleaders are all homicidal maniacs.” Zeke grinned looking maniacal himself.

Adam said, “If she’s not involved, she’s a potential victim. In any case, we need to find her.” His flat, unemotional voice recalled Rob to the job at hand.

“Agreed. Let’s get back to the office and bring Frankie up to speed.”

“What did you find?” Zeke asked.

“Exactly what I said. Proof Tiffany was here.”

Zeke hesitated, and then preceded Adam and Rob outside.

* * * * *

Rob was preoccupied with his own thoughts, so he was only vaguely aware that Adam was even quieter than usual on the drive back to town. They reached the station only a few minutes before Agent Russell phoned in his report.

“Tell him he better not try driving back up here tonight,” Frankie told Adam, breaking off the debate on whether or not to activate an Amber Alert. “We get black ice on these mountain roads this time of year.”

“I’ll tell him.” Adam left the room to phone Russell back. They could hear snatches of a short and businesslike conversation as Russell reported the ME’s preliminary findings. Adam returned to Frankie’s office to relay the news that Cynthia Joseph had probably died just before midnight Thursday evening.

“That early?” Frankie sounded shocked.

Adam nodded. “The blow to her head wouldn’t have killed her, but she was likely unconscious for everything that followed.”

Rob recognized that Adam was trying to be tactful, conscious of what he would consider small town sensibilities. He asked, “What did follow?”

Adam flicked him a look. “Her throat was cut with a not very sharp and not very clean knife. It took a couple of tries.”

“Well, at least she won’t get tetanus,” Zeke muttered.

They all ignored that. Adam said, “She was not sexually assaulted.”

“Thank God for that.” Frankie muttered thanks as Aggie refilled her coffee cup.

Rob said, “Just before midnight. Which means Tiffany could very well have still been up and moving around the house.”

“She should have been in bed if she was so sick,” Zeke said.

“The State crime scene team needs to get back here and process Joseph’s residence,” Adam set his coffee cup aside, untouched. “Among other things, we need to find out who their cell phone carrier is so we can try to track Tiffany’s phone.”

Frankie groaned. “Let me summarize. We’ve got a murdering nutcase on the loose and a missing girl. Does that sound about right?”

“And they may be one and the same,” Zeke said cheerfully.

Frankie glared at him.

Unworried, Zeke sipped his coffee. He made a face. “Aggie, you know I take sugar!”

“Get it yourself!” Aggie called back from the front desk.

Frankie said, “At least it’s not tourist season. Thank God for small miracles.” And to Adam, “In my opinion there are too many question marks here to justify activating an Amber Alert. If I’m wrong, I’ve got to live with it.”

Adam replied, “I don’t believe this is an abduction. If it is, I don’t believe the girl has been taken out of the area. So either way—”

Rob finished, “We’ve got to organize a search for Tiffany while there’s still daylight.”

Nobody had to say aloud what they all knew. If Tiffany had been abducted, the chances of her safe return were dwindling with every hour. The fact that this was a rural and isolated setting only upped the odds against an innocent victim. Frankie turned to look out the window with its gray and unencouraging vista, and then bellowed, “Aggie, get me the State Police. And then get me Sheriff Clark in Klamath Falls!”