Weeks?
He read to the end, learning that the search for her brother had been still ongoing when the article was published.
Shannon Steward’s words about Rowan’s brother echoed in his head: “He didn’t think it was healthy that she’d go looking for her brother.”
Was her brother never found?
The article was twenty-five years old.
Evan pulled out his phone to search for more information and abruptly realized that was not his job at the moment. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and turned away from the article, seeking to refocus. He yanked on a drawer of the filing cabinet.
Locked.
He eyed the desk and opened the top drawer, immediately spotting a wimpy-looking key. It fit. He opened a file drawer and found the gun he’d expected. It wasn’t primarily for home protection; otherwise it would have been in a nightstand or maybe in the kitchen. It was locked in a filing cabinet in his office. It was clearly a SAR tool. A necessity.
The next drawer held files. Each was labeled with a date and location and held paperwork from a particular search. The files were tightly packed together. A lifetime of work.
The other two drawers had information on Ken’s dogs, past and present, and more general household paperwork. Evan closed the drawers, finding himself drawn back to the photo of Ken and Rowan on the wall. He couldn’t see her face, but his mind pictured her as a child with lively brown eyes and a wide grin.
She probably hadn’t been smiling, he realized. Rowan had been lost for weeks.
Evan wanted to know the rest of the story.
He took a last look around the office and headed to the front door. Nothing in the home had jumped out at him, pointing at someone who would want to murder Ken Steward. He mentally crossed his fingers for results from the phone or computer, but at least he’d found a few new avenues to pursue for leads.
Evan locked the house door and waved at the patrol officer in his car at the curb. The officer gave a casual salute and pulled away. Evan got in his SUV, his mind spinning with next steps in the investigation. It would be hard to sleep. In each case, he pushed and pushed, exhausting every possible element of the investigation.
In the back of his mind, curiosity about Rowan’s past kept bubbling up, and he continued to shove it away. He’d look for answers another time.
Home. Sleep. And start again tomorrow.
9
The sun was barely up when Rowan stepped out of her vehicle. She’d left home in the dark and driven for almost two hours. The location wasn’t that far from her Bend home, but getting there took time. Back roads, Forest Service roads, and a long detour because of a washed-out road. Beside her in the passenger seat, Thor had watched the scenery with interest. He loved car rides.
She let the dog out, and immediately he trotted in small circles, sniffing the ground, his ears swiveling in all directions. Today he wore a normal harness. Even though Rowan was searching for signs of her brother, it wasn’t a work assignment for Thor. She had no scent articles for him to work from. There was no point in attempting to use Thor’s skills after twenty-five years.
For Thor it was simply a glorious walk in the woods.
For Rowan it was a day for reflecting.
To remember her brother and their last days together. To remember the good days before they were kidnapped. Truthfully, she didn’t recall much of her childhood before the kidnapping. Old photos helped, but she often wondered if the memories were refreshed by the photos or had been created by the photos.
Ken was on her mind too.
He was intertwined with her thoughts of her brother. The traumatic event that had taken Malcolm had brought Ken into her life. Her parents had been uncertain about whether to encourage the attachment she felt toward the man who had saved her. A child psychologist had evaluated Rowan and given the go-ahead as long as Ken was willing. He was. Ken had attended her high school graduation, her college graduation, and all her SAR certification tests. He’d gone on camping trips with her family. He’d attended picnics and her soccer games.
He had been her favorite unofficial uncle.
She and Thor left the old logging road and moved into the forest, inhaling the scent of fir needles and earth. The morning air was chilly, but she knew it would quickly warm. There wasn’t a cloud in sight.
The location where Ken had found her was a mile into the woods. Rowan knew the way by heart after having returned for the last ten years. Ken had brought her a few times as a teenager after she begged and begged. Eventually she’d returned on her own, wanting to spend as much time as she could combing the area. She’d never been able to pinpoint the bush she’d hidden under. Too many years had passed.