What's Left (A Peyton Risk Suspense Thriller—Book 2) E-Book

Ella Swift

• Herausgeber: Lukeman Literary Management
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: A Peyton Risk Suspense Thriller
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 254

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

In Glacier National Park, a cunning killer uses icicles to impale victims, leaving them to freeze to death in the cold air. National Parks Officer Peyton Risk, an expert at solving homicides within the National parks, is summoned to hunt the killer down. With Peyton's deep knowledge of the wilderness, she can track a killer as no one can. Yet this killer may just be one step ahead of her…. This is Book #2 in a new series by mystery and suspense author Ella Swift. Raised in the heart of the mountains by avid outdoors enthusiasts, Peyton followed in her parents' footsteps and became an expert in the natural world. Until, at just 12 years old, an idyllic family camping trip in their favorite national park turned into a nightmare. Her parents were brutally murdered, the killer vanished into the wild, and the case went cold. Despite being haunted by the unsolved deaths of her parents, Peyton turned her trauma into determination, studying environmental science in college and becoming a respected National Parks Officer. Peyton's unique perspective blends an intuition for the outdoors with a sharp intellect that allows her to decipher secrets hidden within the parks—set on ensuring that no other family endures the same pain that hers did. But will she find herself the next victim claimed in the park's unforgiving wilderness? A page-turning and harrowing thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured protagonist, the series is a riveting mystery, packed with non-stop action, suspense, twists and turns, revelations, and driven by a breakneck pace that will keep you flipping pages late into the night. Future books in the series are also available!

Leseprobe

WHAT’S LEFT

Ella Swift

Ella Swift is author of the PEYTON RISK mystery series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Ella loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visitellaswiftauthor.comto learn more and stay in touch.

BOOKS BY ELLA SWIFT

PEYTON RISK MYSTERY SERIES

WHAT’S HIS (Book #1)

WHAT’S LEFT (Book #2)

WHAT’S WISHED (Book #3)

WHAT’S GONE (Book #4)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

PROLOGUE

Tracy's breath caught in her throat as she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes fixed on the magnificent creature standing before her.

A wolf, its fur a mixture of silver and black, stood motionless just a few yards ahead on the path, its head lowered to sniff at the snow-covered ground. It seemed unaware of Tracy's presence, its piercing yellow eyes focused solely on something hidden beneath the frosty surface. The sight took her breath away, and her heart raced with excitement at witnessing such a majestic animal in its natural habitat.

This experience meant the world to Tracy. She had always been passionate about nature and wildlife, and seeing a wild wolf up close was a dream come true. She felt a surge of gratitude for this moment, despite the other difficulties that had brought her here.

Tracy and her husband, Michael, had been camping in the park for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary. They both needed an escape from the daily grind and hoped that a getaway would help them reconnect after five difficult years of marriage. There had been moments of joy in their marriage, of course, but those moments had often been overshadowed by arguments and misunderstandings. Communication between them had become strained, leaving Tracy feeling lonely and unappreciated.

Michael hadn't made any plans for their anniversary or suggested any ideas, so it was Tracy who had pushed for them to come to the park. She had hoped that immersing themselves in the beauty of nature might spark some renewed passion and understanding between them, giving them a chance to rekindle their love and grow stronger as a couple. Even though Michael wasn't as fond of the outdoors as she was, he begrudgingly agreed to join her on this trip.

Recalling Michael's reluctance to come to the park, Tracy couldn't help but feel disheartened by his lack of enthusiasm for the outdoors. He had even gotten into trouble with one of the rangers for feeding wildlife—an action that irritated her more than she cared to admit. She feared that her husband was losing interest in her and their marriage. They needed a change from their mundane routines, and she had hoped that this trip would provide them with a bonding experience they so desperately needed.

We just need to have a bonding experience, she thought. Something to energize us and remind us we're together. When was the last time either of us felt even a spark of romance?

Suddenly, the wolf's ears perked up, and its gaze shifted toward the direction where Tracy was heading. It sniffed the air, as though catching a scent that alarmed it. Within moments, the wolf turned and trotted off into the woods, disappearing into the trees.

Tracy's heart raced with curiosity and trepidation—what could have spooked the wolf? Was there another predator nearby? She patted the small can of pepper spray strapped to her waist, taking solace in its presence. Michael had insisted she carry it with her, and although she sometimes found his overprotectiveness stifling, she knew he only wanted her to be safe.

"Maybe he still cares, after all," she whispered to herself. "About my physical safety, at least."

Tracy's breath fogged the air as she resumed her jog, her heart still racing from the encounter with the wolf. The path ahead snaked through the snow-blanketed terrain of Glacier National Park, surrounded by tall, majestic trees adorned with thick layers of white. Their branches reached out to one another, creating a canopy that filtered the early morning light and cast dappled shadows on the ground.

To her left, a partially frozen stream gurgled softly, its waters gleaming like silver ribbons in the sunlight. The peaks of the park loomed in the distance, their jagged edges cutting into the sky like the battlements of a mystical castle. Tracy marveled at the raw beauty and splendor of the landscape, momentarily forgetting her worries about Michael and their marriage.

Just then, a branch cracked in the woods to her left. She slowed, puzzled.

"Hello?" she called cautiously, scanning the surrounding forest for any signs of movement. But there was no response.

"Must be my imagination," she mumbled, shaking her head and picking up her pace once more.

The trail began to ascend, challenging Tracy's legs with each step. Despite the cold, sweat dampened her brow, and she wiped it away with the back of her glove. As she climbed higher, the world around her seemed to open up, offering breathtaking views of the valleys below—a stunning panorama of snowy wilderness painted in shades of blue and white.

Michael would love this, she thought wistfully, wishing he were by her side to share in the awe-inspiring sight. Maybe I can convince him to join me for a hike later.

When Tracy had mentioned the idea of morning jog while lounging beside a bonfire last night, Michael had agreed, albeit with the same reluctance with which he had agreed to coming out to the park in the first place. When she tried to wake him in the morning, however, he'd merely rolled away from her, mumbling that the wind blowing against the RV had kept him up and it was too cold to go outside this early anyway. Disappointed, Tracy had gone on without him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden rustle in the bushes just off the path. She froze mid-step, her pulse quickening. In the eerie silence that followed, every muscle in her body tensed, ready for flight.

"Hello?" she called again, her voice trembling slightly. "Is someone there?"

Still, no answer came, and the forest seemed to hold its breath.

Gritting her teeth, Tracy forced herself to keep jogging. She chided herself for letting fear take control and instead focused on the positive aspects of her surroundings. The sun was rising higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the snow-draped landscape. The morning air was crisp and invigorating, filling her lungs with each deep breath she took.

Everything's fine, she told herself, repeating it like a mantra. Just keep going.

As her feet pounded rhythmically against the path, she began to plan what she'd do when she returned to the RV. A hearty breakfast seemed like the perfect way to start the day—perhaps she could surprise Michael with his favorite omelet, complete with diced ham, onions, and green peppers, just to show him there were no hard feelings about his decision to sleep in. Over breakfast, they could have that long-overdue conversation about their marriage, discussing the changes they both wanted to make in order to strengthen their bond.

Lost in her thoughts, Tracy almost didn't notice the massive tree lying across her path. The fallen giant had likely been there for some time, its once-mighty trunk now stripped of bark and covered in patches of moss. Snow clung to its bare branches, giving it a skeletal appearance. The tree must have been struck by lightning or toppled by a powerful storm, she mused.

She slowed to a halt, listening intently for any sounds of movement. The quiet around her was almost unnerving, but whatever had made the noises earlier seemed to have vanished.

"Good," she whispered to herself. "I don't need any more scares today."

Assessing the fallen tree, Tracy considered her options. Going around it would mean trudging through the untouched snow on either side, which appeared quite deep. With a sigh, she decided it was best to stick to the path, even if it meant clambering over the obstacle before her.

"Here goes nothing," she muttered.

Tracy gritted her teeth as she began the difficult task of climbing through the fallen tree. Its branches were coated in a layer of fresh snow, making them slippery and treacherous to navigate. With each step, she felt her boots slide precariously on the icy bark.

"Come on," she whispered to herself, clutching at the branches for stability. Her breath came out in ragged puffs, visible against the crisp morning air.

As she slowly made her way over the obstacle, a sudden noise behind her made her freeze. Heart pounding, she twisted around to spot a figure in a parka standing on the trail. The person's face was hidden behind a balaclava, making it impossible for her to discern any distinguishing features.

"Hi, there," Tracy said, trying to sound friendly despite how unsettled she felt. "Great time for a hike, huh?"

The figure didn't respond. Instead, they began moving slowly toward her, their movements deliberate and unnerving. Dread coiled in Tracy's stomach, her instincts screaming that something wasn't right.

"Do you come out here a lot?" she asked, fumbling for words. She clung to a branch with one hand, ready to move if necessary.

Still, the figure remained silent, continuing their slow advance. Panic began to set in, clouding Tracy's thoughts as she struggled to make sense of the situation. She knew she needed to act quickly, but the slippery branches hindered her progress.

Just get over the tree and start jogging again, she told herself. She would have to loop back eventually, since she didn't know any other way to return to the RV, but that was a problem she could deal with later.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to focus on navigating the fallen tree, its snow-covered branches proving slippery and treacherous. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, fogging up the cold air around her. The persistent sound of the figure's footsteps grew louder, spurring her into a frantic scramble.

"Leave me alone!" she cried out, her voice trembling with fear. As she wriggled through the tangled mess of branches, one of her boots suddenly caught between two limbs, wedging itself tight. Desperation surged through Tracy as she yanked at her trapped foot, struggling to free herself.

"Come on, come on," she whispered, her thoughts racing as fast as her pulse.

With a final, forceful tug, Tracy managed to wrench her boot free. The sudden release sent her tumbling backward, landing heavily on her back. She lay there for a moment, stunned and disoriented, before her instincts kicked in again. Frantically, she scanned her surroundings for any sign of the masked figure.

"Where are you?" she muttered under her breath, her eyes darting from side to side. Then, she heard the soft crunch of snow off to her left. Twisting her head sharply, she saw the masked figure standing above her, having circled around the fallen tree while she was preoccupied.

Tracy's heart hammered in her chest as she fumbled for the small can of pepper spray that Michael had insisted she carry. Her fingers, numb from the cold and slick with sweat, struggled to find purchase on the smooth surface of the canister. When she finally managed to grip it, she yanked it free from its holster on her belt.

"Stay back!" she cried, her voice trembling with fear. She aimed the pepper spray at the masked figure, prepared to trigger a defensive burst. But the assailant was quicker than she'd anticipated.

In one swift motion, they lunged forward and knocked the pepper spray from her hand. It skittered across the snowy ground, disappearing beneath a layer of pristine white. Tracy's hope vanished with it.

The figure loomed above her, staring down with dark, intense eyes.

Tracy tried to scramble to her feet, but the figure's boot came down on her chest, forcing her back down in the snow. She gasped for air as the air was knocked from her lungs, her eyes locked on the figure's balaclava-covered face. She couldn't see anything beyond the dark circle around their eyes, and the way they were looking at her was unnerving.

"Who are you?" Tracy demanded, her voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. She tried to struggle free, but the figure's grip was too strong.

"Me?" the figure asked, and Tracy felt certain there was a smile dancing in those eyes. "Why, you can call me Death."

CHAPTER ONE

A frigid gust of wind whipped through the air, causing snowflakes to dance around Ranger Peyton Risk as she stood near the edge of a clearing in Eden's Gate National Park. The sun had barely risen above the horizon, casting a pale golden light on the pristine white landscape. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, watching as an older ranger, his face weathered and lined with age, demonstrated fire-making techniques to a group of enthralled boy scouts.

"Pay close attention, boys," the ranger said, his voice gravelly but warm. "You'll need a good piece of flint, a steel striker, and some tinder. Hold the flint at an angle like this..." He held up a stone and struck it with the steel, sending bright sparks flying into the small nest of tinder. The boy scouts leaned in, eyes wide with fascination as they watched the sparks catch and a tiny flame begin to grow.

Peyton couldn't help but be drawn to the ranger's scar—a jagged line that ran down his cheek, giving him a fierce countenance.

Sixteen years had passed since her parents were murdered in this very park, a murder that had never been solved. Twelve at the time, Peyton had had little time to dwell on the mystery of their deaths, focusing instead on her own survival as she passed through a spinning carousel of foster homes, until she was adopted by Saul Guzman, who became not only a father-figure and a mentor, but a friend as well.

Recently, Peyton had come across a photograph taken during her family's last vacation to Eden's Gate, the day her parents were murdered. It was a snapshot of happier times, with twelve-year-old Peyton smiling between her beaming parents, Marie and Galen Risk. But what she had never noticed before was the reflection in her father's sunglasses, a reflection that showed the man taking the picture: a park ranger with a distinct scar running down his cheek.

A scar that looked remarkably like the one worn by the old man teaching the boy scouts mere feet away from her.

Could it be the same man? And if so, did he have any information about the day her parents were brutally murdered? As he continued showing the scouts how to nurture the growing fire, Peyton knew she had to talk to him. It could be her last chance at finding any answers.

"Remember, boys," the scarred ranger said with a smile, "practice makes perfect. Keep at it, and you'll be able to start a fire in no time." The boy scouts nodded eagerly, their breaths forming small white puffs in the chilly morning air as they began to mimic his actions.

The ranger suddenly became aware of Peyton's gaze upon him. He looked up from the fire and met her eyes.

"Excuse me for a moment, boys," he said to the scouts before standing and making his way over to Peyton. Up close, the lines etched into his face seemed deeper, and the scar appeared even more pronounced.

"Can I help you?" he asked, a quizzical look in his eyes. "You seem familiar. Do I know you?"

"I came to the park as a kid, but it was many years ago," Peyton admitted, her heart pounding in her chest. "My name is Peyton Risk."

"Ah, well, it's nice to meet you, Peyton," he said, extending a rough hand. "I'm Rex Albright, park ranger here at Eden's Gate."

A chill breeze rustled through the pines, sending a shiver down Peyton's spine as she clutched her coat tighter. The sun had barely begun its ascent into the sky, casting long shadows and painting the scene in hues of gold and orange, and the air still held a wintry chill.

"What brings you back here after all this time?" Rex asked.

"I was hoping you could help me with something," Peyton said, hesitating for just a moment before she pulled out a worn photograph from her jacket pocket. She handed it to him, watching his face closely as he took it in.

The picture showed a twelve-year-old Peyton beaming alongside her parents in front of a trio of large boulders stacked precariously on top of one another. Her mother's arm draped around her protectively, while her father stood tall, his love for his family evident in his eyes.

"Recognize that spot?" Peyton asked, nodding toward the rock formation in the photo.

"Of course," Rex replied, his brow furrowing slightly. "That's Sentinel Rock. But why are you showing me this?"

"Because I think you might have taken this picture," she said. "Do you remember?"

Rex studied the image, his frown deepening as he tried to recall. Then, suddenly, his face grew troubled, and he looked up at Peyton with newfound understanding.

"I'll be damned," he murmured. "These are the people who were murdered that day, aren't they?"

Peyton held her breath, waiting for him to piece together her connection to the tragedy. As he glanced back at her, realization dawned on his face.

"You're the little girl in the picture," he said softly, his gaze filled with empathy. "I'm so sorry for what you've been through."

"Thank you," she said, trying her best to keep her emotions at a distance. "I've been searching for answers ever since, and I thought you might know something. Anything that could help me find out who killed my parents."

Rex sighed heavily, his eyes flicking to the photograph once more before he handed it back to her. The weight of the past seemed to bear down on him as he looked out at the snow-covered park.

"Ranger Albright," she began hesitantly, "what do you remember about that day? Anything could help."

He stared into the distance, his brow furrowed in concentration as he delved into the recesses of his memory. "I was on patrol that morning," he said slowly. "We were having an issue with some bears getting too close to the campsites, so I was checking the perimeter and making sure everything was secure. It wasn't until later in the afternoon that I heard about the murders."

"Did you know my parents at all?" Peyton asked, her heart pounding as she braced herself for his answer.

"Can't say I knew them personally," Rex replied, shaking his head. "But I did have a conversation with your dad earlier that day. He was asking me about some of the hiking trails, I think."

"Can you remember the specifics?" she pressed, her fingers gripping the edge of her coat.

Rex hesitated, rubbing his temple as if trying to coax the memory to the surface. "I'm sorry, Peyton, but it was so long ago... The details are fuzzy," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "He did leave me a recording on my phone, though."

"Wait, a recording?" she asked, her eyes widening with hope. "What did it say?"

He shook his head helplessly. "Not even my late wife's memory would be that good. It's been a long, long time—but I don't have to tell you that, do I?"

Peyton felt her heart sink, her hopes dashed as quickly as they had risen. She imagined the precious recording lost to time, erased or overwritten long ago. But Rex's next words sent a shiver of renewed hope down her spine.

"Although..." he mused, rubbing his chin. "I still have the old answering machine from back then. It's practically a relic by now, but maybe, just maybe, the message is still on there."

Peyton's eyes widened, her pulse quickening at the possibility.

"It's probably in a storage room at my house, buried under a pile of old gear," he went on. "It'll take me some time to dig it out, but I promise I'll get to it as soon as I can."

"Thank you," Peyton said. "Just let me know if the recording is still on there, even if the machine doesn't work anymore." She didn't want to get her hopes up too high, yet she couldn't help but feel that this could be the key to unlocking the mystery of her parents' murder.

"I will," Rex assured her, his voice tinged with understanding and empathy. "But remember, it's possible the thing won't even work after all these years."

"Still worth a try," Peyton said, smiling with gratitude.

As if on cue, the shrill ring of her phone cut through the charged atmosphere. With an apologetic glance at Rex, Peyton pulled the device from her pocket and answered the call. "Risk here."

"Peyton, it's Peter Marshal. I need to talk to you about something important."

"Sure, give me just a moment," she said, slipping away from Rex and stepping out of the visitor center into the crisp, cold air. A flurry of snowflakes danced around her, settling on her dark hair and eyelashes as she braced herself against the chill.

"Okay, I'm here," she said into the phone, her breath creating small clouds of condensation in the air. The icy wind nipped at her cheeks, but it couldn't dampen the burning curiosity as she wondered what message her father might have left on Rex Albright's answering machine.

"How's that case coming along?" Marshal asked. "The one about the missing hiker?"

"Ah, yes," Peyton replied, recalling the details of the case. A young woman had ventured into the park alone, leaving behind a vague trail of clues that hinted at her whereabouts. "It feels straightforward, honestly. I believe she just got lost while exploring some off-trail areas. The evidence suggests that she was poorly prepared for a multi-day hike, so it's likely she's seeking shelter or help. We've already found a few signs pointing to her possible location."

"No foul play?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. We've already got search and rescue teams out looking for her, so it's just a matter of time before she turns up."

There was a thoughtful silence. "Sounds like they don't really need you any more, then."

"Sir?"

He cleared his throat. "I have something else that requires your immediate attention."

Just then, Peyton reached her SUV, its dark exterior dusted with snow from the night before. She brushed the snow off the door handle and opened it, intrigued by Marshal's words. Cold leather greeted her as she slid into the driver's seat, shivering against the chill.

"Alright, I'm listening," she said. "What's this new case about?"

Marshal hesitated for a moment before asking, "What do you know about ice sculpting?"

CHAPTER TWO

As Peyton's car wound its way through the snowy landscape of Glacier National Park, she couldn't help but recall a visit to the park with her parents when she was just ten years old.

They had embarked on an unforgettable family adventure filled with hiking, wildlife spotting, and stargazing beside a crackling campfire. She remembered the warmth of her father's laughter as they roasted marshmallows, and the soft, comforting voice of her mother as she pointed out constellations in the night sky. Those moments were etched into Peyton's memory, bittersweet reminders of what her life had been before tragedy struck.

Now, as an adult revisiting the park, the experience held a starkly different tone. The trees, once lush and green during her childhood visit, stood silent and bare, their branches laden with snow. The formerly clear blue skies overhead were now a steel gray, shrouding the park in a somber atmosphere. The terrain, though still strikingly beautiful, presented new challenges as icy paths and slippery slopes replaced the more navigable trails of her youth.

It seemed fitting that all her memories seemed to be in spring and summer, yet here she was years later in winter's icy grip.

Despite the changes in both her own life and the park itself, Peyton couldn't deny the sense of awe that persisted as she took in the vastness of Glacier National Park. A rich history permeated the air, from the ancient glaciers that carved the valleys to the native tribes that once called this land home. As she drove deeper into the park, Peyton felt a strange mix of nostalgia and determination coursing through her veins. The memories of her parents fueled her resolve to seek justice for them, even as the familiar surroundings stirred up long-buried emotions.

Up ahead, she noticed a flurry of flashing lights piercing through the snowfall—the unmistakable signal that she had arrived at the crime scene.

A ranger stepped out onto the road, his breath forming puffs of white mist as he waved for her to stop. Peyton took in his appearance: a stocky build with a weathered face that told of years spent patrolling the park. His uniform was crisp, adorned with various badges and patches showcasing his service. The name tag on his chest read "Dennis Leeds."

Peyton rolled down her window, the chill from outside instantly biting at her skin. She flashed her badge, identifying herself. "I'm Ranger Peyton Risk. Can you tell me who found the body?"

Leeds' eyes flickered with recognition as he replied, "A couple of hikers stumbled upon it early this morning. They alerted us, and we've secured the area since then."

"Is the body still there?"

"Yup." Leeds nodded. "Victim's a woman in her twenties named Tracy Dunmore. The body's down that trail over there." He pointed toward a narrow path cutting through the woods, where the snow-covered branches hung heavy and solemn.

"Alright, thank you, Ranger Leeds," Peyton said, acknowledging him with a nod before driving forward. She parked her SUV on the shoulder of the road, then paused for a moment, mentally preparing herself for the sight that lay ahead.

The biting wind whipped around Peyton as she stepped out of her SUV, the cold air seeping through the layers of her clothing. She shivered involuntarily, quickly swapping her shoes for a sturdy pair of hiking boots. As she laced them up, she could feel the snowflakes settling on her dark hair. The late morning sun was obscured by the thick clouds, casting a muted light over the wintry landscape.

With a deep breath, she started down the trail that Ranger Leeds had pointed out. The woods were eerily quiet, the only sound being her muffled footsteps as she padded through the snow. On either side of the path, tall evergreens stood like silent sentinels, their branches weighed down by the heavy blanket of white.

As she walked, Peyton noticed several sets of footprints in the snow—some from rangers, others likely from hikers before the area had been closed off. She wondered if any belonged to the killer, but the thought was pushed aside as she rounded a bend in the trail.

There, a cluster of rocks jutted upward from the earth like jagged teeth against the backdrop of pristine snow. The sight made her heart race, her instincts telling her she was close. And then she saw her.

Tracy Dunmore.

Tracy lay sprawled across one of the boulders, her arms spread wide as if embracing the sky. Her once bright blue running jacket was soaked with blood, the crimson stain standing out in stark contrast against the white snow surrounding her. Her face was pale, lips tinged blue, eyes half-open in an expression of eternal surprise.

Several rangers were gathered around the crime scene, speaking in hushed voices and taking photographs. Their somber expressions only served to heighten the grim atmosphere. As Peyton approached, one of the rangers noticed her and broke away from the group.

Peyton watched her partner, Sean O'Malley, approach with a grim expression on his face. He was bundled up against the cold, wearing a thick parka with a fur-lined hood and heavy gloves. A scarf wrapped tightly around his neck partially obscured his face, but she could still make out the dark stubble covering his jaw and the bags under his eyes. It was clear he hadn't been taking very good care of himself lately, and the weariness in his gaze spoke volumes.

"Sean," she said, nodding in acknowledgment.

"How've you been?" he asked.

"Alright," she answered, sensing that his question was more a formality than genuine concern. "What can you tell me about the victim?"

"Her name is Tracy Dunmore," Sean said. "Twenty-eight years old, worked as a barista. From what we can gather, she was out for a morning jog when she was killed." He gestured toward her clothing.

"Looks like it," Peyton agreed, her eyes scanning the boulder on which Tracy lay. "Well, I'd better take a closer look."