“Dog walker found her about six.” Hadley addressed himself to Mahler. “Older woman with a bunch of corgis. One of the regulars who come in every day before the park officially opens at seven. Entered at the Violetti Road gate at the top of the hill. She was making her way down to the lake when the dogs pulled her over to the bench. Made a call on her cell at six ten. We sent her home, but we have contact information if you want to talk to her.”

Mahler could tell Hadley was speaking in a way he had heard on cop shows. The guard was probably also conflicted. On the one hand, he was in the middle of something important. On the other hand, he was already wondering how this was going to come back to bite him in the ass.

“Mind taking off your glasses, Officer?” Mahler saw Hadley’s face color as the younger man removed his glasses. “How’d the dog walker get in before the park opened?”

“The gate here at Violetti Road is a steel-tube barrier. Closed from seven p.m. to seven a.m. It’ll keep out a car, but people on foot have worn a little path around it. Not much we can do to stop them.”

Mahler looked away. Eden was writing in a steno notebook; Coyle watched a spectator leaning over the caution tape to shoot photos with a cell phone.

“What’s your routine after seven p.m.?” Mahler faced Hadley again.

“Two rangers on duty. We spend most of our time with the overnight campers on the other side of the lake. Every two hours one of us does a patrol in the pickup. We make a loop around the whole park on the paved road, over by the West Saddle Dam, in front of the swimming area, and back to the campground. There’s a ranger hut in the campground where we can get out of the weather. The patrol takes about twenty-five minutes.”

Mahler pointed to the road that passed the parking lot two hundred yards away. “So last night you or your partner drove down that paved road over there?”

“That’s right. Every two hours after seven.”

“You see or hear anything unusual?”

“No, sir.”

“You shine a light over here when you go by?”

“No, sir.”

“Ever vary the route?”

“No, sir.” This last answer was slower than the two previous.

“Ever get out of the truck?”

Hadley looked confused. He turned to Coyle for help but was met with a blank stare. Hadley shook his head.

“You listen to music when you drive?”

Hadley hesitated. “Sometimes I take my phone. But, you know, just one ear.”