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trusting you to have my back. You risk my life too when something like that happens,” Warren added before a brief silence fell around them and Tara knew she needed to speak.

“I know,” she said. “It won’t happen again.”

Warren nodded in return. It was all he expected her to say, and at her words, he looked down at his watch, abruptly shifting back to the case. He didn’t want to waste any more time. He reminded her to meet him downstairs in five minutes, and then he turned and walked down the hall.

Tara closed the door, heaving a sigh of relief. She was still on the case. Warren was trusting her again. But as she got ready, an unsettling feeling swirled within her because she knew deep down, she could barely trust herself.

***

Tara and Warren waited as the man behind the counter carefully searched for the victim’s name in the computer. They had just arrived at the main office of the camping grounds moments earlier and when Warren had mentioned the victim’s name, it immediately confirmed who they were.

“I spoke to police not that long ago. You guys are quick,” he said as he continued to search for the camping lot number that the victim was assigned.

Tara and Warren waited in silence. There was still an awkwardness lingering between them, but Tara knew it mainly stemmed from her. On the ride over, they barely spoke, and when they did, it was a result of Warren sparking the conversation. Each time he spoke, all she could think about was her panic attack, her nightmare, and the overwhelming feeling that it could all happen again; and it left her uncertain of how to act around him. But Tara also knew her hesitation toward anyone on this case would only do her more harm, and as she stood there, she reminded herself that she needed to move forward and focus on the case.

“She camped here only one night,” the man said as he scrolled through some information on the computer. “Three nights ago.”

“Do you remember checking her in?” Tara asked as she slid the image of the victim across the counter.

He looked down at it briefly and then his eyes darted up.

“Yeah, I remember checking her in.”

His confirmation stroked a strand of hope within Tara. “Did she mention anything to you? Maybe someone she met? Where she was going?”

But the man only shook his head as he directed his attention back to the computer.

“She was only in here a couple minutes. I assigned her a lot, she paid, and left. She didn’t mention anything to me.” He shrugged.

A cloud of disappointment swirled in Tara’s mind as the man leaned in a bit closer to the computer.

“Lot Four,” he said. “That’s where she stayed.”

Tara and Warren thanked him and were quickly out the door. It was a small camping ground of only about ten lots, each labeled in numerical order, and it didn’t take long for them to find where the victim stayed.

They quickly scanned the lot. It was a barren patch of dirt with a fire pit, and other than the gray ash and burnt wood, there was nothing to show the victim had stayed there. However, it was early morning and in the other lots, campers were still waking up, preparing breakfast or packing for their departure. She knew there was a chance that someone may have interacted with the victim.

“Let’s ask around,” Tara said as her eyes fell upon a man in the lot directly next to them, sitting next to a fire.

Warren followed her gaze. “We’ll start with him,” he replied as he began to walk toward him.

Tara tailed behind and as they moved closer, she could see the man, with a scruffy beard, pouring a pot of boiling water into a coffee drip over his cup. When done, he looked up in surprise.

“Can I help you?” he asked as he placed the pot down and let the water filter through. Tara held out her badge. “We were hoping we could just ask you a couple questions.”

 The man looked startled as he shifted in his foldout chair, now fully facing them.

“What about?” he asked.

“A woman camped in the lot next to you three nights ago. We just wanted to see if you happened to talk to her.”

The man shook his head with a look of concern.

“I just got here last night,” he said. “Did something happen to her?”

Tara looked at Warren briefly. “We’re just trying to piece together her timeline.” She said. “Where do you happen to be hiking from?”

“Pennsylvania,” he said. “I hiked here from Bordnersville.”

It was very unlikely that he came in contact with the victim on the trail, especially since they were hiking in opposite directions. But, to be certain, Tara pulled out the victim’s photograph.

“Does she happen to look familiar to you at all? Maybe you saw her on the trail?”

The man leaned in closer and then sighed. “Sorry, I can’t say she does.”

Tara thanked him, but she still had hope as her eyes scanned the other lots where numerous other campers lurked.

But as they moved from one lot to the next, the results were the same—they never met her, or they just arrived, or both—and each time, the fear of not finding answers grew larger in Tara’s gut. But just as they walked away from another camper without answers, Tara heard a burst of laughter echo through the air, followed by sparks of chatter. Tara turned her head sharply to see four women preparing their daypacks. Warren followed her gaze until his eyes fell upon them as well, and they both walked toward them.

The chatter died down as they approached and the group of women looked toward each other in confusion as Tara flashed her badge.

“Have you guys been staying here a few nights?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, why?” a tall, slender woman in the group replied before placing her pack down on the ground.

Tara held out the victim’s picture and the woman took

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