“Did Dan check in with you guys the first time he went out, too?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t here. That’d be Cody Pilarski. We rotate shifts so there’s always someone here.”
“But you’re sure it was Dan’s last trip when you talked to him.”
“Definitely. And I sure hope nothing’s happened to him. He was a really nice guy.”
“He is a really nice guy,” she corrected, emphasizing the verb. Her brother might be missing, but he was still alive. She knew it in her gut. Something terrible had happened, but not the worst. Not yet. And not ever if she had anything to say about it.
“Thanks,” she said to Belinda. She turned over one of her official business cards and wrote her personal cell number on it. “If you hear anything, or if anyone mentions seeing Daniel, please give me a call.”
Belinda took the card, glanced down at it briefly, then tucked it into her breast pocket right under her name. “I’ll do that, Agent Hunter. I sure hope nothing’s happened to him,” she repeated, half to herself.
Kathryn nodded absently as she turned away, her mind already on her next task, the next item she had to check off her list. Everything Belinda had told her coincided with what she knew. Dan had actually called her when he emerged from the backcountry. He’d left a message on her voicemail, telling her he was all right, that he was going to enjoy a few days of civilization and head back.
When Penny had first called her, saying Dan had missed his regular check-in, the first thing she’d done was access his phone records. Since he traveled to a lot of places where cell service was spotty, he always carried a satellite phone with him, which enabled him to make calls without being within range of the town’s cell tower. She found only one other call after the one Dan had made to her, and that was to Penelope in San Francisco. Unfortunately, Dan also had a tendency to pick up a disposable phone whenever he was in range of a cell signal, using that and then throwing it away, instead of carrying around the more expensive, and heavier, satellite phone. So while Kathryn knew when he’d called her and Penny, she had no way of knowing whom else he might have called locally.
On the one hand, it was good to know that her brother had been well and happy when he’d left the park two weeks ago. But on the other hand, so far she hadn’t learned anything she didn’t already know.
She beeped the locks on her rental SUV, opened the door, and then just stood there for a moment, leaning her forehead on the warm metal of the door frame. Her chest ached, and tears threatened as she fought off a wave of despair. If she could find even one clue, a single hint that would tell her what had happened . . . she needed a direction, and she didn’t have it.
The slam of a truck door behind her had her straightening, blinking away the tears. She turned quickly, afraid someone might have seen her. But there was only a flash of khaki as one of the rangers disappeared through the side door of the visitor center.
Kathryn drew a deep breath and slid into the driver’s seat, surreptitiously wiping away the few tears. She pulled over her laptop and checked the list she’d already memorized. Next stop was the motel where Dan had stayed. His room was still there, still racking up nightly charges. She’d assured the motel manager on the phone that she would pay for it, although she suspected the motel was pretty empty this time of year anyway. But she didn’t care about the money. She’d just wanted to be sure Dan’s things were left untouched. Maybe that was where she’d find that one clue she was looking for.
The motel was the only one in town—flat-roofed, one story, and without a single identifying characteristic. Even its color was a boring beige that blended so well into the desert one could probably miss the building entirely on a hot day, with the heat rippling the air. It was a long step down from the type of hotel her brother usually stayed in, although, as with the backcountry camping, Daniel was more than willing to rough it to get the shot he wanted.
Kathryn parked in front of the office and went inside. The day manager’s name was Jason Kenton.
“Mister Kenton,” she said, “I’m Kathryn Hunter. We spoke on the phone.” She didn’t use her FBI ID for this one. She was already feeling guilty about that, and it wasn’t necessary in this case since she was paying the bill.
“Daniel’s sister,” Kenton said, looking up from a cluttered desk behind the check-in counter. He looked groggy, as if she’d woken him from a nap. He stood slowly, stretching out his muscles and yawning without any attempt to conceal it. Kathryn waited impatiently until he finally strolled across the six feet separating them and reached for a key hanging on a numbered board.
“His things are all in there, just like you asked. I haven’t even let the maid clean. Didn’t see much point, and I didn’t want to mess anything up, just in case.”
“Thanks,” Kathryn said, smiling as she took the key. “I’ll be staying a few days, so I might as well use the room, if that’s all right with you.”
Kenton shrugged. “You’re paying the bill. Don’t matter to me who sleeps there, as long as there’s nothing funny goin’ on.”
Kathryn blinked, trying to imagine what sort of funny he had in mind. But her brain was too tired. “Nothing funny,” she assured him. “You ran my card?”
“Yes, ma’am. No problem.”
“Okay. Thanks again.” She backed out of the door, feeling suddenly awkward, as if he expected her to stay and talk a while. Or maybe he’d expected her to question him like they did in all the television shows. Whatever it was, she didn’t have the energy.
She climbed into the SUV and backed down the empty parking lot to room 18. It was an end unit, but other than that it was exactly the same as every other one. She thought Daniel might have requested the end, hoping for a little more privacy and quiet, but like everything else in this case, she was just guessing.
Her only suitcase was a small, rolling overnighter, so she grabbed it, then locked up the truck and let herself in. She was immediately swamped by a sense of loss. The room was a mess, with dirty clothes tossed haphazardly into an open suitcase on one of the double beds, and still lying on the floor where Daniel had left them. She knew they were dirty, because his clean clothes were all neatly hung in the closet. This was so typical of her brother that it brought tears to her eyes.
She glanced around, noting that among the dirty clothes were some obvious pieces of hiking gear. The single chair held Dan’s backpack, which appeared deflated and forlorn. His well-worn hiking boots, some really dirty pants and T-shirts, and several pairs of thick socks lay in a pile on the floor next to it. One thing Daniel had always told her was that he never stinted on clean socks when he was hiking. Everything else could be stiff with dirt, but he always took several pairs of socks.
She frowned, then stepped farther into the room and saw his camera equipment neatly stacked between the second bed and the wall, where it wouldn’t be obvious to someone standing in the doorway. Dan’s cameras were worth a small fortune, but even more than that, he’d told her they were irreplaceable. Not because he couldn’t buy another one, but because over time a photographer’s camera became a part of him, as if the physical characteristics of the equipment mutated with use to become unique to the photographer.
She dropped her things on the bed and crouched down next to the pile of equipment. She couldn’t tell if anything was missing. Maybe his agent Penny would have been able to, but she wasn’t here.
Kathryn went to stand and had to grab the wall when the room spun around her. She was beyond tired. She’d slept very little in the last two weeks, too worried about Dan. And then there’d been the flight yesterday—she could never sleep on planes—and the sleepless night in Minneapolis waiting for the morning so she could get here and start looking for him.
She sighed and began stripping off her clothes. The jacket came first, then her badge and her gun, which was the FBI standard issue .40 caliber Glock 23. She set both badge and gun on the table, placed her spare magazine next to the gun, then snapped her holster from her belt and threw it on the other bed on top of her jacket. Stepping out of her shoes, she left them where they were and skimmed off her jeans. She was about to toss them on the bed, then thought better of it and folded them instead. She hadn’t brought that many clothes with her. Knowing she’d be more comfortable wearing her usual work attire later tonight for the interview with Donlon, she pulled her slacks and blouse out of her case and hung them up in the closet, hoping to get rid of any wrinkles. She hated ironing, but didn’t want to present herself to Lucas Donlon looking like she’d slept on a plane, either.