Page 15 of The Catcher
“Any update on the missing girl?” Noah asked, addressing the group as a whole.
One of the officers stepped forward. “Nothing yet. Search and rescue are back at it again today. We’ve got eyes in the sky with FLIR, and we’re combing the area with cadaver dogs, but there is no sign of her. Hopefully, we will find her alive, but it doesn’t look promising.”
Noah nodded, his mind already spinning with the task ahead. He knew the importance of thorough investigation and swift action, especially in cases involving missing persons, but with every passing hour, eventually, it would turn into a recovery mission.
“You heading up to the cliff?”
“Soon. Where was the teens’ truck found?” Noah asked.
“Over there. To the left of that disabled parking sign.”
Noah crossed the lot and scanned the ground, looking for any evidence that might have gotten overlooked. The police would be the last to admit it, but more often than not, if a crime scene was ruined, it was because of them. It was partly ignorance and the rest inexperience.
“Aaron, can you give Sutherland here a ride,” a trooper yelled.
Along the way, his senses heightened. The sounds of the forest erupted, and the rustling of leaves and the calls of wildlife added to the feeling of isolation.
Approaching the scene, Noah’s pulse quickened, his instincts kicking into overdrive. With each step, he felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him, the familiar chaos of every investigation before answers followed.
It was frustrating. It required a lot of manpower, hours, and a hefty amount of money. Departments were all too eager to sweep it all under the rug and notch up scenes to suicide or some other crime — anything to avoid a long, drawn-out case.
Finally, reaching the clearing where the body was discovered, Noah scanned the area.
“If you need anything. Give me a shout,” Aaron said.
Noah nodded. He took out the photos, held them up, and turned to get a better idea of the exact spot.
He drew close to the edge, the cliff stretching downward into the depths below. The rugged terrain surrounding him was dominated by jagged rocks and tangled undergrowth.
Some of the rocks lining the cliff’s edge were weathered and worn, their surfaces smoothed by years of erosion. Some jutted out sharply, creating precarious ledges, while others formed craggy outcroppings that seemed to defy gravity.
The drop was daunting, the distance to the bottom around 25 feet.
Noah peered over the edge, his eyes tracing the sheerface of the cliff as it disappeared into the shadows below. Loose soil and debris littered the rocky slope, evidence of the treacherous terrain.
Below, the ravine widened into a rocky basin, the ground strewn with boulders and fallen branches. A small stream trickled through the rocky landscape, its gentle flow echoing softly against the stone walls.
As Noah compared the photos to the location. The boy was without clothes except for boxers, a black blindfold, and a red hunter’s hat. The boy’s wrists were bound tightly behind his back, and the rope was attached to a thick, heavy branch that pulled at his arms. It seemed to indicate either he’d been tied to a tree and had managed to break the branch loose, or it had been done to prevent him from trying to bring his wrists around under his legs — commonly done by those seeking to escape police handcuffs.
The sight of the injuries to Pete Landry’s body was a stark reminder of the brutality of crime. It was hard to tell if he’d been beaten or fallen multiple times.
Was it a crime or a game that had gone wrong?
He could see how easy it would be to conclude either.
High schoolers were known to park in secluded areas to make out, but that usually involved staying in the vehicle. If it was a crime and the unknown subject had brought the boy out into the wilderness, what was the purpose?
“Why here?” he asked himself aloud, turning around and picturing the boy being pushed off the edge or unable to see and accidentally tumbling over.Were you runningfrom someone?he thought. The location was off the beaten trail. It wasn’t a clearing that appeared to be frequented by campers. Reaching the area would have required some effort, even more so at night.
Noah glanced at the crime report for clarity.
Twenty feet northeast of the victim, a geocache container was found below a tree among the leaves. The hidden container is a green metal ammo can. It contained the following items: a weathered log book inside a plastic bag for those who found the container in the past. Dates and signatures are on it. A ring in a small velvet box placed there the afternoon before by the witness to give to his girlfriend, and items that he did not include — a lock of blonde hair believed to belong to the missing girl, Hailey Matthews. A hair sample was sent to the State Lab for analysis to be compared with hair taken from a brush at her home.
Noah made his way to the tree noted by a yellow police evidence triangle. The container had already been collected for evidence, but Noah had clear photos of it and all the items found inside.
His gaze turned back to the report.
In addition, a faucet handle was recovered. Slightly rusty. The analysis came back negative for latent prints. Beside that was a key. A note underneath the lid of the container read: “This is a multi-cache. The posted coordinates you are at provide a gadget you have to solve to get the coordinates to stage two. Stage two will lead you to the location of stage three. At stage three, you will find a container of swag.”
