Chapter 4 - The Muddy Footprints
The rain finally began to ease into a light mist as dawn broke over the thick foliage of Blackwood Ridge. Natalie had rejoined the search grid alongside Deputy K-9 handler Dave and his tracker dog, a bloodhound named Copper.
They stood at the ridge line where Andrew’s bloody denim sleeve had left faint smears against the rough bark of Douglas fir trees.
"Andrew was severely injured," Dave analyzed, crouching to examine the disturbed pine needles. "He was dragging his right leg. Broke a hip or a femur in the crash, most likely. He was crawling up this mountain on his hands and knees."
"Why crawling up the mountain?" Natalie pondered out loud. "The main road was behind him."
"Because the flood swept his truck downriver," Dave pointed out. "The only structure within five miles of this ridge is the old ranger watchtower and the abandoned sawmill. If he couldn't walk back to town, he was heading for higher ground to find shelter or signal for help."
"What about the second set of prints?" Natalie asked, shining her flashlight at the heavy boot impressions trailing ten paces behind Andrew's path.
Dave’s face hardened. "The second person wasn't helping him. See how the stride length changes? The second guy was tracking him. Stalking him."
Natalie remembered the gossiping neighbors outside Ashley’s house—specifically Marcus Vance, a local property developer who had been trying to force Andrew to sell his land for months. Andrew had repeatedly refused to sell the modest family home that Ashley loved so dearly.
Natalie pulled out her radio. "Dispatch, pull up the GPS location data for Marcus Vance’s vehicle on Thursday night between 8:00 PM and midnight."
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A few moments later, Dispatcher Eric’s voice chimed back: "Officer Vance... Marcus’s black heavy-duty pickup was logged at the old timber bridge at 8:45 PM on Thursday. He stayed at the ridge for over forty minutes."
Natalie’s jaw tightened. "He saw Andrew crash. He didn't call for help. He followed him."
