He pulls a Mini Maglite from his belt and sets the beam on the stain. “Might not be hers.” He looks around, his eyes going to the wooded area at the bridge. “Could be from an animal that got hit. Raccoon or possum that came up from that creek.”

“Maybe.” But I don’t think that’s the case. More than likely, if an animal had been struck by a car, the carcass would be lying nearby. I motion toward the cigarette butt a few feet away. “Sadie Miller smoked clove cigarettes.”

We kneel next to the stain. There’s not enough blood to form a pool like the one in Buck Creek. This one is elongated and looks more like a smear, or a scrape.

Wishing for a magnifying glass, I lean close. I see what looks like bits of flesh that have been abraded by the rough surface. My eyes land on something in the center of the stain, sending a scatter of goose bumps over my arms. “A hair,” I hear myself say.

“Human?”

“I don’t know. It’s long. Same color and length as Sadie’s.” I straighten, look at him. “I’m going to call Tomasetti and get a CSU out here.”

He looks around. “Kate, I hate to say this, because this could turn out to be nothing. But it almost looks like a hit-and-run involving a pedestrian.”

A dozen arguments spring to mind. We’re overacting. Reading things into this that aren’t there. Chances are, a deer or dog or a fucking raccoon got hit. But considering everything we know, his theory is solid. Too damn solid.

“He ran her down,” I whisper. “And he took her.”

He tilts his head to catch my eye, then holds my gaze. “I know you have a connection to this girl. If you want me to—”

“I can handle it.” I know he’s thinking about the Slabaugh case and the fact that I used deadly force. I guard my secrets well, but he knows I’m still dealing with the aftereffects.

He nods, but his eyes are knowing. “I’ll get a roadblock set up and get some photos.”

I unclip my phone, surprised that my hands are shaking. Impatient with myself, I punch speed dial to get Tomasetti. He answers with his usual growl and I fill him in on Mandy Reigelsberger’s sighting of Sadie Miller and the scene Rasmussen and I discovered.

“You sure the hair is human?” he asks.

“I’ve never met a raccoon with long hair.” Neither of us laughs. “I was wondering if you could send a CSU.”

“I can have someone there within the hour.”

“I owe you one.”

“I’ll remind you of that next time I see you.”

I almost ask him when that will be, but I don’t want to sound needy. Maybe because, at the moment, I am. “Anything on your end?”