“Reverend Tate, can you tell us what happened to you yesterday on the Appalachian Trail?” I asked him after identifying who we were. Tell us everything you can. We're here to listen to your story."

Tate's suspicious eyes darted from Sampson to me. I doubt he was even aware of it, but he kept scratching his head and face as he looked around the small room. He also looked terribly confused. He was obviously nervous and scared and I couldn't blame him for that, especially if he'd been set up and framed for a double murder he didn't commit.

“Maybe you can answer a few of my questions first,” he managed. “What are homicide detectives from Washington DC doing here in Virginia? I don't understand that. Or anything else that's happened in the last two days.”

Sampson looked at me. He wanted me to explain. I began to tell Tate about our connection to Ellis Cooper and the murders that had taken place near Fort Bragg.

“You actually believe that Sergeant Cooper is innocent?” he asked when I was finished.

I nodded. “Yes, we do. We think he was framed, set up. But we don't know the reason yet. We don't know why and we don't know who.”

Sampson had a question. “You and Ellis Cooper ever meet while you were in the Army?”

Tate shook his head. “I was never stationed at Bragg. I don't remember a Sergeant Cooper from ”Nam. No, I don't think so."

I tried to remain low key. Reece Tate was an uptight, buttoned-down and formal man, so I kept our conversation as non-threatening as I possibly could.

“Reverend Tate, we've answered your questions. Why don't you answer a few of ours? If you're innocent of these murders, we're here to help you out of this mess. We'll listen, and we'll keep an open mind.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. “Sergeant Cooper, he was judged guilty, I assume. Is he in prison? I'd like to talk with him.”

I looked at Sampson, then back at Reece Tate. “Sergeant Cooper was executed in North Carolina recently. He's dead.”

Tate shook his head in a soft, low arc. “My God, my God in heaven. I was just taking a week off, giving myself a break. I love to camp and hike. It's a carryover from my days in the Army, but I always loved it. I was a Boy Scout, an Eagle Scout in Greensboro. Sounds kind of ridiculous, under the circumstances.”

I let him talk. The Eagle Scout in him wanted to, needed to get this out.

“I've been divorced for four years. Camping is my only decent escape, my release. I take off a couple of weeks a year, plus a few weekends when I can grab them.”

“Did anybody know you were planning this trip?”

“Everyone at our church knew. A couple of friends and neighbors. It wasn't any big secret. Why should it be?”

Sampson asked, “Did your ex-wife know?”