ACT II
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They'd spend the next few hours apart, a move that would allow them to gather more information in the limited amount of time they had at their disposal down here in Burlingame.
Mike had chosen to take a trip to the records department, trying to find out who all had lived at the address and if there was any sort of connection to the double-murder.
Steve had chosen a different route altogether and decided to walk the path their killer had taken to usher little Kevin away from the house and into an unknown future. Then, he'd check with a few of the neighbors, people who might have visited the Saunders' before, known the layout of the house as well as their routine; a perfect combination for somebody with questionable intentions.
The weather was holding up so far and Steve took a moment to inhale the crisp fall air as he strode down the well-manicured sidewalk, taking note of the rows of houses on each side of the street before the road crossed paths with busy two-lane Trousdale Drive.
The sidewalk ended at that point, the road grade dipping back down to natural levels, a concrete culvert allowing a ditch that surrounded the development to move rainwater freely.
Right at the corner was a small post office, the one whose camera had captured the last known picture of Kevin Saunders. The glass door had a crack in it all the way from the top to the bottom, the concrete foundation looking quite weathered. Up underneath the eaves of the roof, a bird had taken up residence. The office was closed for a late lunch, not that it mattered much.
Steve didn't expect any progress in talking to the postmaster.
And yet, the building had a strange draw to it, sitting there as a silent witness to what happened on that fateful day eight months ago.
There was hardly any room to park a car on Trousdale, and what little there was would be considered illegal as it was near an intersection. Likewise, it didn't seem logical for the killer to park in an obvious spot, so where did he take little Kevin from here?
Did they cross the busy road into the neighboring housing development? Should they check out these people as well?
Or what about the other alternative? It was the one he loathed the most.
No, it wasn't logical, but it was still plausible.
Off to his left was a forest leading up to I-280, then straight into miles upon miles of parkland, an attractive hiding spot for a killer, and a mass of land so large that it was difficult to cover for any search party.
Nonetheless, Steve knew that Alex had tried just that, sending several groups of unis through the area looking for clues, going as far as checking every culvert in case the killer had left of some evidence in the ditch line.
But in the end, they came up emptyhanded and brokenhearted.
Still…the proximity to the highway and the forest attracted his senses and Steve decided to hike the half a mile to the other side of 280, trying to get a feel for the layout of the park and the places a disturbed criminal could hide a child at.
The brisk walk along the road took less than ten minutes, most of it being spent waiting for the traffic on the highway to clear in order to cross all four lanes.
And just as quickly, he found himself deep in the forest, where a path with a few benches lining it lured him closer.
Imagining the struggle of dragging a confused and frightened five-year-old along in the midst of a heavy rainstorm, Steve paused for a moment and crouched down, trying to take in the scenery with the eyes of little Kevin.
The trees ahead looked dauntingly tall, the forest itself dark and foreboding. The path winding its way through the maze made him feel uncomfortable, worried, as though monsters could hide behind every turn.
Add in a stormy day and the horrific experience that little boy had gone through; it was safe to say that there had to have been screams, even some fighting, eventually nothing more than a frightened whimper, all of which were drowned out by the weather, possibly even a violent backhand.
As the forest drew him further and further into its dark center, Steve sped up his pace, woefully aware of the tight window of time Mike had dictated, no more than two hours. Even though he couldn't put his finger on it, he sensed that there was far more than just Alex's suicide making the Lieutenant uneasy in this town.
The mature trees blocked most of the sunlight the deeper he walked into the forest, the occasional sunrays breaking up the darkness giving it an almost fairytale-ish hue.
Steve couldn't see any signs of recent visitors, no walkers, joggers or tourists seemed to make it this far west. As a matter of fact, it looked like this park was hardly even used. Most of the wear and tear on the pack benches and garbage cans seemed to have come from the weather, not visitors.
Unfortunately for them, this vast spread of land was a perfect place to hide a child- or a body. It would be easy enough to dig a bunker far off the beaten path and come and go without anybody noticing.
The sheer thought sent a shiver down his back.
There was still plenty of time until he was due to meet Mike back at the house, so Steve decided to leave the concrete path behind and walk deeper into the woods, using the natural layout as a guide.
Several tree roots sticking out of the reddish soil nearly made him trip, so he slowed down, taking in the scene, putting himself into the twisted mind of a killer trying to hide his prey.
Straight ahead, thick underbrush began to block the natural path, continuing on for several hundred yards before thinning out again.
The path still paralleled him on the right, but off to the left he saw a broken branch, no more than half an inch thick. Did an animal do that? Or somebody who walked the area often to check on his bunker, maybe using the branch as a breadcrumb to find his way?
Even though it was just one theory of many, the thought captivated Steve, put his mind into overdrive.
Easy access to the highway, a scarcely used nature preserve, enough room off to the side to hide a vehicle from plain view…it was as perfect as it could get.
Running a hand through his sandy hair, Steve sighed, trying to swallow his unease about going deeper into unknown territory. Then again, it wasn't like he was hiking the mountains of Colorado.
He was just doing some recon.
Plus, he was armed.
Watching his step to avoid any tree roots or animal excretions that could ruin his expensive leather boots; Steve hiked deeper into the park, following the natural path that was winding along between large trees, moss-covered rocks and rotten stumps for nearly twenty minutes before he stopped, fearing he might get lost if he travelled much farther.
So far, he hadn't been able to see any signs of human activity, or that of animals. Even the birds didn't seem to like the thick forest this deep into the park.
But there was something he'd been trying to shrug off as paranoia earlier, but could no longer do.
It was the feeling of having a set of eyes on him, so intensely that he turned around his own axis twice, trying to see if somebody had been following him.
With his heart speeding up, Steve backtracked several steps, suddenly wondering if there were bears or cougars in this part of town. He'd been so busy worrying about a human killer, he'd forgotten about the animal counterparts.
When the sensation of being watched grew even stronger, he pressed his back against a large tree trunk, one hand reaching across his chest for the .38 on his left hip, his eyes going back and forth, scanning the entire perimeter, not seeing anything.
With his breaths coming in short gasps, Steve cursed his oversight, ready to hightail it back the way he came from, when a twig snapped right beside him.