Henry watched from the top of the ridge. They almost had the car out of the trees, enough of a hood showing that he could tell it was a late model sedan. Jesus! What a mess. Why was it that when it rained it had to fucking pour?

He found himself wishing it was some poor drunk bastard who drove all the way up and simply lost control and went over the ledge. He wished it could be that simple. He had driven up here only to prove O’Dell wrong. But now he couldn’t help wondering if they had just found Joan Begley.

He saw O’Dell leave her rented Ford Escort back behind the Meriden police blockade. They had the chain-link gate closed, padlocked and guarded down below at the entrance, but still it was a bit crowded up here along the winding road to the top of the peak. He waved to Deputy Truman to let O’Dell by.

“You found her?” she asked before he could say anything.

“I was standing here hoping that it was some drunk who took a wrong turn,” Henry confessed, leaning on the wooden guard rail.

They stood quietly side by side, watching the tow truck cable pull the car up over the rocks and brush, listening to the scrape of metal against tree bark.

Finally, when it was on level ground, Deputy Charlie Newhouse yelled at him from the tilted smashed-in front of the car, “No one’s inside, Sheriff.”

“Jesus! I don’t need this crap. Run the license plates.” But even as Henry said it he could see the rear one was missing.

“Front plate’s missing,” Arliss said.

“So is the rear,” Watermeier told him.

“You suppose it’s stolen?” Charlie asked.

“Better give the boys a call to bring out a mobile unit.” Henry walked around to the front, trying to get a look inside through the demolished windshield.

“Sheriff.”

O’Dell was still at the back of the car, waiting for him. When he walked around she pointed to the trunk, where a small piece of fabric had gotten caught and was sticking out.

“Shit!” he mumbled, and felt the tightening in his chest. “Charlie, reach in there and pop the trunk, and try not to touch too much.”

When no one moved, Henry looked up to find his two deputies and the tow truck operator staring at the trunk of the car.

“Charlie,” Henry said again.

This time the deputy obeyed, but when the trunk snapped open Henry found himself wondering, once again, why the hell he hadn’t retired six months ago.

He pushed the trunk wide-open and everyone remained motionless, wordless as they stared at the small body of a woman curled up inside. Henry noticed immediately that her wrists weren’t bound. Neither were her ankles. But then there was no need. The back of the head faced them, a mess of blood and tangled hair where she had suffered what had to be a deathblow. It had cracked her skull open, an impact of force that seemed overkill for such a small woman.

“You suppose it’s her?” he asked O’Dell.

“Hard to tell. All I have is a photo. The head wound definitely looks familiar.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Henry swiped at his eyes. Jesus! They hadn’t fished all his victims out of the barrels yet and here was another one. “Arliss, call Carl and have him bring the mobile crime lab. And Dr. Stolz, too.”

“I think they’re probably out at the rock quarry, sir.”

“I know where they probably are. Call them and tell them to get their asses over here.”

“Sir? You want me to tell them that exactly?”

Henry wanted to throttle the kid. Instead he said, “Charlie, would you—”

“I’ve got it taken care of, Sheriff.”

Henry noticed O’Dell just standing there, staring as if she couldn’t believe it, yet she was the one who suggested he search the area. He moved in for a closer look, leaning into the trunk and under the lid without touching anything. He examined the area around the woman for signs of anything that may have been left. Anything to tell them whether or not this was the missing Joan Begley. Maybe he even hoped the weapon accidently got tossed in or dropped inside. But there was nothing. From this angle he could see the side of her face and there was something familiar about her. Yeah, she looked familiar but he hadn’t seen O’Dell’s photo of Begley.

He gently touched the woman’s shoulder, moving her only slightly to get a better view. But what he saw made him jerk away.

“Holy crap!” He bashed his head on the lid of the trunk. He stumbled backward, slipping and almost losing his balance. Almost falling down.

The others stared at the back of the woman again, trying to see what had spooked him.

“It’s that TV reporter,” he said, out of breath and hating that his chest felt like it would explode. “That one who’s been following me around everywhere.”

“What are you talking about?” O’Dell said, stepping in closer to the trunk but waiting for him.

He rolled his shoulders and brushed his hands on the sides of his trousers as if to prepare himself. Then he leaned into the trunk as little as was necessary. He hesitated for only a second before he laid his hand on her shoulder again.

“He took her fucking eyes,” he said, moving her enough for them to see her face. Just enough for them to see the hollow sockets where her blue eyes had once been.