The Girl From the Woods

I wanted to talk to Rachel's family about what happened, but I knew I couldn't. I'd seen them on the news, then again in town. And watched them huddle together when their eyes met mine. They were afraid of who they thought I was.

But I was not the man responsible for their daughter's death.

I needed them to know that.

I would do anything to make that happen.

Starting with finding the bastard who did this.



I knew very little about Rachel Saunders—just what the police had reported: her age, where she worked and went to school, and when she disappeared. They kept her home residence private, out of any social media, and that was smart.

According to the officer who interviewed me, her autopsy revealed what I'd suspected when I found her—blunt force trauma to the back of the head.

I couldn't figure out how she'd made it out of the woods with that type of injury. It was a distance from there onto my property.

Had he dumped her during the night?

I told Officer Brandt that I saw her come out of the woods.

I lied.

Not the best thing to do when you're being interrogated for a murder.

I screwed up and he knew that.

Now I was more of a suspect than before.

If I didn't find the person who did this, I was going to spend the rest of my life behind bars.