and cold?” She shook her head. “I don’t see it.”
“She was on meth. She probably felt invincible. That could explain why she climbed that tower.”
“Maybe.” Brynn didn’t sound convinced. “But I still can’t see her going all that way alone.”
“You think another kid went with her?”
She hesitated, her gold-flecked eyes reflecting her doubt. “Or someone chased her there.”
That made even less sense. “If she was in danger, why would she run away from help? Why not go to the counselors’ cabin and find an adult?”
“Maybe one of the adults was chasing her.”
Parker arched a brow. “That’s quite a leap.” And they didn’t have a shred of proof. Still, something compelling had convinced Erin Walker to make that trek. “Let’s gather the evidence first, then start drawing conclusions.”
Determined to follow his own advice, he returned his attention to his computer, bringing up the cabin assignments this time. He listed the campers’ names in a separate document, highlighting the kids in Erin’s cabin. Not that it did much good. He couldn’t interrogate those kids without their parents’ consent—and alerting his boss.
He blew out a frustrated breath. “Any luck with the photos?”
“Not yet. There are thousands of pictures on this card. I’ve skipped ahead to the ones taken around the day she died.”
Taking sips of water, she continued studying the screen. He watched her drink, the erotic lilt of her lush lips like a cattle prod on his nerves. He took in the high, sweet curves of her breasts, the graceful line of her throat. And the urge to plunge his hands through her fiery hair, to plunder the heaven of her moist lips, nearly did him in.
Dangerous thoughts, he warned himself. He had to resist Brynn Elliot, not fantasize about how good she’d make him feel. Now if he could just convince his body of that...
“Here, take a look.” She turned her computer toward him, and he forced his attention to the screen. The photos were what he’d expected—kids clowning around and doing the usual camp activities, such as swimming and pitching tents. His interest lagged until she brought up several shots that included adults—the director, counselors. His boss. There were several shots of Hoffman playing football with the kids, which made sense. He’d been a high school football star.
Brynn paused on a picture of the campers roasting marshmallows over a campfire. Hoffman was there, sitting beside a skinny, preteen girl with a long black ponytail. The scene looked ordinary enough...except his knee rested against her thigh. He sat so close that their shoulders touched. And she was clearly trying to lean away, her legs curled up in a fetal position, her face averted from his.
A funny feeling took hold in Parker’s gut, and he glanced at Brynn. She stared at the screen, her face suddenly pale, her fingertips pressed to her mouth, as if she was trying not to get sick.
She dragged her gaze to his, the horror in her eyes catching him off guard. Her reaction seemed way out of proportion to seeing a photo of her estranged stepfather sitting beside a child. Unless...
“You’re not saying...” He could hardly voice the thought, it disgusted him so much. “You don’t think Hoffman and that child...”
Brynn didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The revulsion in her eyes said it all.
She believed Hoffman was a pedophile, that he’d sexually molested this kid.
Stunned, Parker jerked his gaze away. A pedophile? Was she nuts? The Colonel was everyone’s role model, the most upstanding man he knew. And he’d warned Parker not to believe her. Brynn had a history of making false accusations against him. But the horror in her eyes looked real.
And sometimes even the wildest allegations proved true.
His emotions in total upheaval, he stared at the screen as Brynn scrolled through several more shots—Erin paddling a canoe, erecting a tent with the black-haired girl. She was smiling at the camera and looked content.
Then another shot filled the screen, this one of Erin Walker standing beside the lake, the Colonel at her side. He had his arm slung over her shoulders, an easy smile on his face. Erin was dressed in a one-piece swimsuit, clutching a towel to her scrawny frame. She looked ready to cry.
Parker’s heart sank. Oh, hell. This did not look good.
“The date is July 14, two days before she died,” Brynn said. She zoomed in on the doomed child’s face. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but her mouth wobbled down at the corners. She had the necklace on.
Parker stared at the screen.