The footage was one piece. Noble was thankful that the dash-mounted camera Leo Barzi had installed in his pickup was wired directly to the battery, with a breaker. It had a motion sensor, so it automatically recorded movement—without draining the battery—even when the motor was not running.

Noble needed to identify the mystery vehicle, but the fog, dust, and night darkness made it impossible. Two weeks ago, he’d sent the footage to transportation lighting experts at a university in Chicago. It was a long shot, but Noble hoped they could examine the light configuration and identify the vehicle model, or at least narrow down the possibilities.

That piece could help with tire track impressions. At the scene, VSP’s Crime Scene techs had photographed and made casts of more than 60 tire impressions. They also confirmed Samantha Moore’s fingerprints were on the canned drinks. Unfortunately, hers were the only clear latents taken from them.

And VSP’s forensic people confirmed that the hair and blood found in the motel’s rear lot were consistent with Samantha Moore’s.

These were all key pieces.

Every tip called in had been pursued to dead ends. Leads from the public had all but ceased. The canvassing of Spiritsburg had yielded nothing substantial. The interviews with Samantha’s boyfriend and the motel manager had—

Noble’s phone rang, and he grabbed it.

“Noble, Major Crimes.”

“Hi, Detective. This is Lori Campbell, Samantha Moore’s aunt.”

“Hello, Mrs. Campbell. How are you and Mac doing?”

She took a moment and exhaled. “We’re taking things day by day.” She cleared her throat. “I was looking at old family photographs this morning and was thinking about her. How are things going with the investigation, Rod? Anything hopeful?”

Noble leaned on his elbows and rubbed his forehead.

“Until we know all of the facts, there’s always hope, Lori.”

“Anything new?”

“We’re working on a few things related to evidence. Nothing I can really discuss at this stage, but we’re moving ahead.”

“You know,” Campbell said, “you’re going to think this is silly, but I believe Sam’s alive. I feel she’s alive.”

“No, that’s not silly. We have concerns, but nothing that proves otherwise.”

A long moment passed, punctuated with soft sniffling.

“I’ll keep praying for her, and for you to find her.”

“We’ll take all the help we can get.”

“Well, you’re probably busy, so I’ll go now. Thank you, Detective.”

After hanging up, he closed his eyes for a moment. These calls broke his heart. He could feel the anguish of the relatives burning over the line, pressing on his shoulders. He knew they were in pain, and didn’t want their loved ones forgotten.

He glanced at the framed photo—of himself with his wife and daughter, and the Statue of Liberty in the background—next to his phone.

If anything ever happened to them…