Undercover Hunter. Rachel Lee

hung on the walls. “How about some coffee?” Kelly asked. “You must have had a long drive. Hank should be back soon. He’s helping with the search parties.”

      DeeJay could smell roasting pork from the kitchen and guessed dinner was cooking for Hank. Then it struck her. This woman was talking about search parties to a couple of travel writers. What’s more, they weren’t supposed to be clued in.

      As they were ushered into the front room and waved to seats on the sofa, she asked, “Search parties?”

      “We’ve had a boy go missing,” Kelly answered, her smile fading. “Just twelve years old. Let me get that coffee.”

      Kelly returned quickly carrying a tray that held three mugs and a coffeepot. “You’ll like the house,” she said. “I know you might not be here very long, but it’s where I first lived when I moved here.” Her face seemed to shadow, but then it brightened. “A real estate agent rented it to me when Hank was away for a few weeks. I thought Hank was going to have a cow when he found out. The place was in terrible shape. I don’t think you ever saw a man move so fast to repair things. He hadn’t intended to rent it out so soon.”

      DeeJay thanked her for the coffee. “How long did you live there?”

      Kelly laughed again, seeming to relax. She sat in an armchair across from them. “Long enough to finish out my divorce and marry Hank. Just long enough to fix it up a bit. The furnishings aren’t top-of-the-line, but they’ll serve you.”

      “What’s Hank do?” Cade asked.

      “He’ll tell you he’s just a cowboy.”

      DeeJay hooked on the way she said it. “But?”

      “Hank will never be just anything.”

      DeeJay was sure Kelly believed that, but she also sensed there was more of a backstory. No way to ask. “So he’s out searching for this boy?”

      “A lot of people are.” Kelly’s face darkened again. “I might as well tell you, since you’re going to run into it anyway. You picked a bad time to write a travel piece about us. Even with the new ski resort opening next fall.”

      “Why?” DeeJay asked gently.

      Kelly shook her blond head. “This is the third boy to disappear since late fall. And some are talking about how this happened before I moved here. People are scared. Whether they talk to you about it or not, you’re going to sense their fear.”

      Five minutes later they were parked in the short driveway of the dark little house. Kelly assured them that Hank had turned up the heat that morning so they should be warm. Everything was ready for them, including the phone.

      Cade drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Want to unload the suitcases first or find a place to eat?”

      “Greasy spoon?” she asked, quoting him from earlier.

      “One of the best.”

      “Then let’s eat first. As cold as it is tonight, I don’t want to settle into warmth and then have to go out again. When do we meet the sheriff?”

      “Soon. With the search going on, I can’t say any better than that.” He pulled away from the house, rounded a block and headed in toward the center of town. The houses grew bigger and some even boasted decent-sized yards.

      If you blinked, DeeJay thought, you could miss the entire center of town with its flashing red stoplight. It had the kind of charm most old small towns boasted, along with the inevitable seediness. It could have been almost anywhere in the country or anywhere in the past century.

      Whatever tourism might come to Conard County from the ski resort, the town hadn’t yet given in. No cheesy T-shirt shops, no cowboy-hat shaped neon announcing Western clothing. No upscale boutiques. No touristy stuff at all. The town hadn’t yet wakened to its new status. Maybe it never would.

      They parked at a place called the City Diner. “It’s empty,” she remarked before they climbed out of the car. “That’s not a good sign.”

      “This place has a great rep,” Cade answered. “And remember, people are either out searching for a boy or they’re locked inside where it’s safe.”

      Three boys missing and the town feared they had a killer in their midst. Not understanding the mentality of most serial killers, they wouldn’t get that anyone other than a young boy would probably be safe. And that was wise, because there had been a few who had had no particular victim type, and hadn’t cared whom they had chosen for their ritual.

      “Ramirez,” Cade said, almost as if he were reading her mind. “That guy ran the gamut in his victims.”

      “But as far as we know, this one doesn’t.”

      “So far.”

      “Maybe more like Gacy.”

      “Maybe.”

      Inside, the diner looked ancient, with seats patched with tape and tables that were scratched past all shine but clearly clean. The menus weren’t even sticky, but the woman who waited on them was something else. If she’d ever had a charming bone in her body, it had abandoned ship a long time ago. Crockery clattered, cups slammed, hot coffee filled them and splashed a bit, and all without any communication beyond indeterminate grunts. Mavis apparently wasn’t much for talking.

      Then came the platters overflowing with steak sandwiches and enough fries for an army. The dinner salads in their tiny bowls almost disappeared beside them.

      It was then they discovered that Mavis could talk.

      “You them travel writers?”

      “Yes,” Cade and DeeJay answered together.

      “Humph. Bad time to be coming to these parts. Don’t know if I like that whole ski thing, neither. We were getting along just fine.”

      “You’ll get more business,” Cade pointed out.

      “Already got all the business we want, and some that we don’t.” With that, Mavis stomped away.

      Cade and DeeJay exchanged looks, the first real understanding that had passed between them. It arced almost electrically, and both quickly glanced down at their plates.

      “So everybody knows who we are,” DeeJay remarked, picking up a half a steak sandwich that by itself would have fed three men.

      “At least we won’t seem suspicious.”

      “Maybe not.” But she had her doubts. Strangers in a frightened town always caused suspicion. They really had their work cut out for them.

      * * *

      The house created its own set of problems for them. It was tiny, with one small bedroom. DeeJay insisted she sleep on the couch because she was shorter, and this time Cade didn’t offer an argument.

      They’d brought home hefty containers full of leftovers, but they’d also made a stop at the grocery for coffee. No day would be complete without it. At least they agreed on that much. Cade picked up a few other odds and ends for snacking while DeeJay selected some energy bars. Even frozen, they’d be edible, and right now they were utterly in the dark about how they were going to handle a case they knew very little about.

      Back at the house, they brewed a pot in a decent drip coffeemaker, then sat down to pass the time. Being here in support of local law meant they had to await directions. And all of this undercover stuff was designed to lull the perp. If he caught wind that two state investigators had been brought in, he might disappear again. The pressure to catch him was heavy, almost creeping along DeeJay’s nerve endings. She suspected Cade was feeling much the same.

      “There are crimes and then there are crimes,” she remarked.

      “I read you loud and clear,” he answered.

      “These sick twists make my skin crawl. I’ve dealt with all kinds of crimes. Just