The Hunt by Allison Brennan Read Free Book Online

expected Ben Cartwright to answer the door.
    “Sheriff,” Richard Parker said as he opened the large door. Parker had aged well, Quinn noted. About fifty, his blond hair hadn’t yet begun to gray and the wrinkles around his dark eyes were minimal. Six feet tall and lean, he had the broad shoulders and defined muscles of a man comfortable working a ranch.
    Parker turned to Quinn. “Special Agent Peterson, right?”
    Quinn nodded. “Good memory, Mr. Parker.”
    Parker smiled weakly. “It’s Judge Parker now, but don’t mind the formalities. Call me Richard.”
    Judge. Quinn glanced at Nick, irritated that his friend hadn’t clued him in to the politically sensitive situation. Quinn hated playing politics.
    “Thank you.”
    They followed Parker through the wide, dark-paneled foyer into the large living room, bright from east- and south-facing windows and two long, narrow skylights.
    Everything was immaculate and perfectly placed, as if the Parkers were expecting a camera crew from House Beautiful. Hunting trophies and framed prints of outdoor scenes decorated the light-colored walls; oversized, heavy pine furniture was simple and functional. A hint of femininity showed in the floral throw pillows complementing the dark fabric couches and chairs. A gun cabinet was prominently displayed along one wall, above it a huge fish with a plaque that read White Sturgeon, 71 pounds, Kootenai River, June 10, 1991.
    “I sent the boys to the barn to tend to the horses,” Parker said. “Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, soda? Probably too early for Scotch.” He motioned for them to sit.
    “We can’t stay, Richard,” Nick said. “I’ve called in all my deputies, and we have a group of volunteers to work the area. It’s going to be a long day.”
    “I understand. The boys were pretty shaken up. You’ll go easy on them?”
    “Of course,” Nick said.
    “Do you need horses? I can have Jed bring over six or seven. And I’ll give the hands the afternoon off if you need them.”
    “Much obliged, Richard,” Nick said. “We’ll need to search on foot to avoid contaminating possible evidence.”
    Parker nodded. “Yes, yes. Of course.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I thought—I guess I thought that it was over.”
    I didn’t, Quinn thought. “Serial killers only stop when they are incarcerated or die.”
    “But it’s been three years.”
    Quinn shook his head. “There is every reason to believe Corinne Atwell was also a victim of the Butcher, and she went missing May first of last year. The wilderness is unforgiving. Animals, weather, terrain. We may never know how many girls he’s killed.”
    “What’s the FBI’s interest this time?” Parker raised his eyebrow. “You weren’t here when the twins were found.”
    “Actually,” Nick corrected him, “Special Agent Thorne was here after the Croft sisters were abducted, and again when Corinne Atwell turned up missing. I called Agent Peterson in last week because of his familiarity with the case. I don’t have to tell you that the resources of the federal government are far greater than our county’s.”
    Quinn had no more time for small talk. Kids needed to be interviewed as soon as possible after witnessing a crime or finding evidence. If left too long to think about things, their minds tended to replace facts with fantasy, much of it from television. “Where are the boys, sir?”
    “In the barn.” Parker motioned for Quinn to sit. “I’ll get them for you.”
    “No need. I think they’ll be more comfortable if they’re doing something with their hands. Grooming horses sounds like a good task.”
    “I’ll take you,” Parker said.
    Nick held Quinn back several feet behind Parker to speak to him privately. “I want to see the horses’ hooves,” he said quietly. He couldn’t imagine that the boys would have any reason to lie, but he liked to confirm statements with solid evidence.
    The stable stood several hundred feet behind the