Page 55 of Her Final Hours
“Some folks like older models,” she replied. “I just think if we could locate it using the old license information from the hypnosis, we could cross-check it again with the persons of interest. For all we know, one of them could have sold it off.”
“Or painted it over,” he said.
“It’s worth checking, Noah.”
“Maybe. But I would hate to get tied up searching for something that doesn’t exist. At the time when the media was talking about this vehicle, it caused so much trouble. Do you know how many blue trucks exist? No, the owner would have been crazy to try and sell it,” he said. “It would have been traced back to him.”
“I agree. I think they would have kept it low-key at the time. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t dispose of it later once everything died down. If they sold it at all. They may have sold it in a different state. Now you might be right. It could be a metal block in a wrecker’s yard or melted down. But you know as well as I do, law enforcement didn’t have the tools we do now, and they sure as hell didn’t communicate with other departments in different states, let alone counties. I’m considering running that license information again in an NCIC offline search. What do you think?” The National Crime Information Center was a valuable offline search tool that allowed law enforcement to search the records of wanted people, missing persons, anyone who might threaten the public, and stolen property items. Partial information from vehicles, like three or four characters from a plate, could be run, or half of a VIN, and produce hits. “I know it’s a long shot, but it might lead us to new information or connections that were missed before. Perhaps someone knowssomething but never came forward. Or it may be the owner of that truck had nothing to do with it, and we can rule them out.”
He nodded, feeling a flicker of hope at the prospect. “All right. Run the search and see what you can find. Meanwhile, we’ll speak to previous persons of interest, starting with Lucas Blackwood.”
The Bronco came to a halt near the entrance of Camp Eagle, nestled amidst the snowy banks and white landscape of the Adirondack Park Preserve. They were immediately taken aback by how much of the peninsula it encompassed. The camp itself was spread across the area. Tall pine trees stood sentinel, their branches weighed down by white powder. The camp’s wooden buildings and facilities were dotted strategically across the property, blending harmoniously with the natural surroundings. There were several rustic cabins used for accommodating campers and staff.
“You think that’s him?” Callie asked, noting a tall, gruff man who reminded Noah of Grizzly Adams. He stood beside a snowmobile while another man worked on it with some tools.
As they slammed their doors, the two men glanced their way.
“Detectives.”
“Lucas Blackwood?”
“That would be me,” he said, trudging through the snow. “Just getting the snowmobiles out, hopefully for the last time this year. I’m just helping the staff get ready,” he said before extending a hand. Noah shook it. “Come, I’ll give you the tour.”
Noah couldn’t help but size the man up. Even though society wanted to think monsters looked like monsters, the most dangerous were chameleons. They were showing one face to the public and another to their victims. It was how they managed to function.
Lucas led them on the short walk to the camp’s central hub —a large lodge constructed from thick logs. “Nice place,” Noah said.
“Yeah, I like to think so. This space is where we come together for meals, meetings and other activities.” They stepped inside and saw a grand fireplace crackling with warmth, providing soothing relief from the chilly winter months.
Lucas pointed out areas of the camp as they strolled. Adjacent to the lodge, there was a well-equipped dining hall where meals were prepared and served to campers. The large windows offered a breathtaking view of an almost frozen lake and snow-covered hills.
“So this place is for girls only?” Callie asked.
“Oh no. Co-ed. Though we don’t just run summer camps here. It’s used for conferences, education retreats, training events, ski trips, and churches; whatever it is, we probably cater to it. You have to now, if you want to stay in business. And fortunately, we’ve been in business for over sixty years.”
“You?” Noah enquired.
“Generational. It’s always been owned by the family.”
Things were beginning to make sense now as to why, after the accusations against him, he’d maintained his position at the camp. Any other counselor would have been dismissed to avoid the good name of the place being dragged down — regardless of whether they were innocent.
“So, the dorms?”
“Ah, yes, we have five dorm facilities, the lodge itself, a guide house that can sleep 40 people, and an adult inn used in the summer months. It wasn’t always this big. At one time, we just met out on Eagle Lake Island.”
“Back when it was Girl Scout Camp,” Callie said.
“Aha, I see someone has been doing their research. That’s right, 1938 until 2008. It lasted a long time until we realized we needed to diversify.”
Noah recalled Payton getting involved in the Girl Scouts. Although he couldn’t say for sure that this place had fallen prey to it, scouting programs were rife with sex abuse cases. Lucas was quick to change the subject. “Now it’s used as a children’s camp, family camp, for women’s weekends, and for anyone we can get here, honestly. You can’t be picky nowadays.”
“And what do they do?” Callie asked.
“Everything and anything.”
“Anything?” Noah probed.
He smiled. “Sailing, canoeing, swimming, hiking, camp crafts, and other activities. Helps parents. It keeps everyone busy. We believe these kinds of hands-on activities help individuals build skills for life.” He motioned to his right. “Now, this is what we are proud of, our new recreational facility.”
