“It’s possible.” Nate clapped loudly, drawing the attention of the other officers in the room. “We have a potential suspect. Tyler Johnson. Male, blond, midtwenties. Constable Mehrtens will circulate his personal details to you shortly.” He nodded at Mehrtens, who leapt into action. “I want you to dig up any information you can about him and any connections he might have to sites within the area indicated by Kennedy Carter’s mobile service provider.” Nate pointed at the man with the wispy mustache. “You. Contact Blair Carter and get Johnson’s phone number. There’s a chance we’ll be able to determine whether he and Kennedy are in the same location.” He turned to another uniformed officer. “Patton, find out Johnson’s movements from the moment he arrived in the country. I want to know exactly when he landed, everywhere he’s been, and what he’s spent money on.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nate paused for a moment to think. “We’ll issue a public BOLO alert for Johnson and the rental vehicle he and Carter share. Carter should be able to provide the license plate and other details. It’s possible Johnson has a secondary mode of transportation and somewhere to lie low, so it may be worth asking any locals if they’ve had dealings with him.” He gestured at a tall female officer. “Anderson, I want you on that as a priority.”

“Yes, Sarge.”

My stomach knotted. I’d never liked Tyler Johnson, but I’d put my dislike down to jealousy over the fact he’d gotten to be part of Kennedy’s life in L.A. when I’d never had that chance. Maybe I shouldn’t have ignored the niggle telling me not to trust him. If I’d said something, Kennedy might still be safe.

“How are you holding up?” Nate asked quietly.

“Managing,” I said, returning my attention to the phone in my hand and the search party’s group chat because that was easier to deal with than the sympathy in my brother’s eyes.

“Keep it up.” He clapped me on the shoulder and got back to work.

Another hour crawled by. The community searchers cleared the buildings on the edge of the township nearest the ski resort. The rangers could find no sign of Kennedy or Tyler on the trails close to that edge of the township and were now venturing further afield.

Then Constable Anderson straightened and shouted for Nate. Finding herself the center of attention, her cheeks colored and she stammered, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Th-there’s a farm cabin rented under Johnson’s father’s name. It’s accessible by one of the private gravel accesses that comes off the road to Destiny Peak within the perimeter of the area flagged by the cell phone company. According to the property manager, Johnson has been renting it for several weeks.”