Returning to the story, Wyatt concluded that what Cass had told him was nothing substantial, and may not have been the truth. His gut told him that there was something beneath the surface with her and her partner.

There has to be.

When placed in the context of Samantha Moore’s case, the fact Cass had an odd relationship with an ex-con, who’d done time for a crime against a woman, was disturbing. That Cass and Gibby were among the last to see her in this lonely corner of the world raised questions.

Did they stalk her? Were they involved in Moore’s disappearance?

He traveled for nearly an hour when, in the distance, rising from the earth, he saw a cluster of small broken-down wooden buildings, the remnants of an ancient mining operation. From his research, Wyatt recalled mention of a copper mine that was deserted in the 1800s and since forgotten.

It stood before him like a ghost town.

And, like the cemetery, much of it was webbed with overgrowth.

But wouldn’t it be closer to the cemetery? I must’ve walked in a circle in the opposite direction. I need to be careful going back and pay attention to my markers.

As he got nearer, Wyatt noticed traces of brilliant orange fluorescent paint sprayed on the ground. Often that was how police marked crime scenes, or areas searched in ongoing investigations. Judging from the condition of the paint, they must’ve searched this area months earlier in Moore’s case.

Someone was moving amid the ruins.

Gibby.

He was sweeping the ground with the search coil of a metal detector. Over his ball cap, he wore headphones connected to the control box.

Wyatt walked toward him until he was in Gibby’s line of sight. Gibby lifted his face from his work.

“Excuse me, Gibby.”

He slid off his headphones and stared at Wyatt. A few days of stubble whorled on Gibby’s cheeks. His fingernails were long, with dirt under them. His shirt was stained, and his jeans were torn. A hint of body odor wafted on a breeze that passed Wyatt.

“I’m Ray Wyatt, a reporter from New York. I’m doing a story on the case of Samantha Moore.”

Gibby said nothing.

“I spoke with Cass. She said I would find you here.”

“I got nothing to say to you.” Gibby’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I told police we had nothing to do with that girl, ’cept to help her boyfriend.”

“Could I just talk to you? You and Cass were among the last people to see her.”

“No.”

“Can you just help me with a few questions, please? Cass agreed to talk to me. It would be helpful if you did, too, so I can get things right.”

“Why you come here to bother people that don’t want to be bothered?”

“But a woman’s missing, and somebody knows what happened. What do you think happened?”