CHAPTER 14
November. Present Day.
They returned to the station late in the evening. The door slammed shut behind them, breaking the silence of the hallway.
Parker strode past quickly, almost at a rush. Lake followed behind him.
Hong didn't even notice them come in. He was hunched over his monitors, one screen filled with spreadsheets, another showing an enlarged image from the parking lot. Only when Lake's shadow fell across the desk did he finally look up — and freeze.
Something was wrong.
For several seconds, nobody said anything.
“Everything okay?” he finally asked.
“No,” Rick said tiredly and immediately kept walking.
Billy blinked.
“Very informative.”
“Glad to help.” The corner of Parker's mouth twitched.
Lake glanced over his desk.
“What've you got?” he asked.
Hong immediately came to life.
“A lot, actually.” The young man reached for a printout. “I ran every plate that showed up on camera. Here's the list: plate number, make, owner. I checked the van too. No plates, but I got a good look at the logo on the side — Dumpfield Trees.”
Hong handed Lake a sheet with the printed logo.
“Dumpfield Trees?” Rick asked, stepping closer and looking at the page as well.
“Yeah.”
“And what exactly is that?” He frowned.
“Michael King's company,” Lake replied.
“That's the one,” Hong confirmed.
His phone vibrated with a new notification.
Lake picked up the sheet containing the license plate results and quickly scanned the list.
Routine work.
But then his gaze stopped on one particular line. His fingers tightened unconsciously around the edge of the paper, and his jaw tensed. For several seconds he stared silently at the page. Then he looked up at Rick.
“What?” Rick asked immediately.
Lake let out a short breath.
“The gray pickup...”
The pause was brief.
“Registered to Mark Cooper.”
For several seconds, Rick just stared at him in disbelief. Then he snatched the printout from Aaron's hands and found the line himself. He read it once. Then again. As if hoping the name would somehow change. As if this had to be a mistake.
But the letters remained exactly where they were.
“Shit...” was all he managed.
The station fell silent again.
All this time, some part of him had still hoped they were wrong. That the man in the alley had only looked like Mark. But now there was no room left for self-deception.
He slowly lowered the paper onto the desk.
Billy, who had been silently watching them, immediately reached for the keyboard.
“Did you run the address?” Lake asked, turning toward him.
“Already in the database,” Hong replied with a quick nod and immediately started typing.
“Pull up everything you can find.”
The young man nodded.
“Relatives, accounts, phone numbers. I want all of it.”
“Got it, Detective.”
Parker stepped closer, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“What now?” he asked, quieter than usual.
Lake picked up the printout again and looked once more at the familiar name.
For several seconds he simply held the page, as though trying to fit two images together in his head at once: the person they had known years ago, and Coop from the alley. Then he carefully folded the paper in half and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
“Now we work.”
For a moment, the muscles in his jaw tightened again.
“Give me a couple minutes,” he said curtly and headed toward his office.
Hong's phone lit up with another notification, drawing Rick's attention downward.
“You gonna answer that?” he asked with a nod.
Billy lowered his eyes.
“That's Renata, isn't it?”
“Yeah...” The young man's voice faltered noticeably. “I just don't know what to say to her. That's all.”
“Does she know yet?”
“I don't think so. Not yet.”
He swallowed and looked at the screen.
“Sooner or later she'll find out,” Rick said quietly.
Hong's fingers brushed the plastic edge of the phone.
“But I don't want to hurt her. She's already going through enough. I just don't know what to write. Every word sounds... wrong.”
Rick was silent for a moment as he looked at him. Then he leaned forward slightly and placed a hand
on his shoulder.
“That's because there are no right words.”
Billy lifted his large dark eyes toward him.
“Do you really think it'll be enough if I'm just... there for her?”
Rick considered the question briefly.
“No,” he answered honestly. “It's going to hurt.”
The phone trembled faintly in Hong's hands.
His gaze immediately dropped back to the screen.
For several seconds he simply stared at Renata's message without opening it, as if still hoping there was some other way out.
“But it'll be a lot worse if she's alone,” Rick finished.
Billy swallowed hard.
For a brief moment, something almost childlike and helpless crossed his face. He slowly exhaled through his nose and finally nodded.
“Okay.”
He was about to return to work when he suddenly slapped a hand against his thigh.
“Oh, almost forgot.” He pulled out a set of keys. “Maria left these. Said they were delivered to the station today.”
Hong held out the keychain.
“Your car's ready.”
Parker froze.
His eyes settled on the keys resting in Billy's hand.
Automatically, he took them, and the cold metal bit unpleasantly into his fingers.
How many sleepless nights had he spent behind the wheel of that car, circling the city simply because he didn't want to go home? How many times had he sat in the parking lot outside his apartment, staring at dark windows and putting off the moment he'd have to go upstairs?
Sometimes he drove too fast.
Sometimes he drank too much.
Sometimes he cared so little that the thought of failing to make a turn one day didn't scare him at all.
Rick tightened his grip around the keys.
Back then, he'd thought he was just trying to survive one more day.
Now, looking back, he understood that some part of him had been slowly and methodically trying to destroy itself.
How many times had he promised himself tomorrow would be easier?
It never was.
A wave of nausea settled in his chest. As if, along with the keys, they were handing back something he'd only recently begun to live without.
He frowned, refusing to follow that thought any further, and quickly shoved the keychain into his pocket, unwilling to hold it any longer than necessary.
At that moment, the office door opened. Lake stepped into the hallway carrying a worn folder.
Almost simultaneously, the printer began humming nearby.
“Got it!” Billy perked up and immediately jumped to his feet.
A moment later he was already pulling the still-warm pages from the tray.
“Cooper's address,” he announced, hurrying over to Lake and handing him the printout.
Aaron took the papers, skimmed through them quickly, and gave a short nod.
“Good work.”
Hong straightened noticeably.
Lake slipped the pages into the folder and only then looked at Rick.
“Let's go.”
***
Parker sat staring at the road but barely saw the passing lights or the occasional cars.
The hum of the tires, the low rhythm of the engine, and Lake's focused presence behind the wheel should have been calming, but anxiety still gripped his stomach with icy fingers.
Something landed in his lap.
A worn, yellowed folder. Faded ink on the cover read: Catherine Brown Case.
In the corner, stamped in burgundy, were the words: Case Closed.
His heart clenched painfully.
Rick shot Aaron a questioning look.
“Go through it while we drive,” he explained shortly, never taking his eyes off the road.
Rick opened the folder in silence.
Katie was staring back at him from the very first page.
Still bright.
Still smiling.
As though the photograph had been taken yesterday instead of more than ten years ago.
He lingered on the image for only a few seconds before forcing himself to look lower.
Report.
Statements.
Dry official language.
A few pages later, something began to bother him.
Rick frowned, flipped back, and reread the notes.
Strange.
Something was missing.
He flipped to the end of the folder, then opened it again near the middle.
“What, not everything's here?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “I thought they questioned them again later.”
Lake shot him a brief glance.
“Yeah. That bothered me too.”
“So you went digging to find out why?”
“Of course.”
“And? What did they tell you?”
For a while, the only sound was the rain.
“That there was no point dragging every single person through the station,” he finally replied. “Katie was considered missing. No body, no signs of a struggle, no evidence of a crime.”
Rick let out a skeptical snort.
“Sounds like a lousy excuse.”
“It was.”
He said it easily, as though he'd reached the same conclusion a long time ago.
“You try digging any deeper?”
“Of course.”
Aaron fell silent for a moment.
“First I requested that the case be reopened. Then I pushed for additional interviews. I went through the old reports, tracked people down myself. For several months, I circled around that case every chance I got.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in a brief, humorless smile.
“It didn't take long for someone to explain that I was wasting my time on the wrong thing.”
Rick slowly closed the folder.
“And you just stopped?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately. For the first time in the entire conversation, without a pause.
“I just started doing it more carefully.”
Rick let out a faint huff.
The answer was so predictable he wasn't even surprised. Some things, apparently, never changed.
If Aaron Lake decided something mattered, neither authority nor common sense usually had much
chance of stopping him.
Something warm stirred in Rick's chest.
“Did you find anything at all?”
“A little.”
Lake tapped a finger thoughtfully against the steering wheel.
“I did manage to talk to a few people. Went back to the cabin several times. Searched it again. Checked the things that were left behind after that night.”
He shook his head.
“Nothing.”
Rick sat silently for a few seconds, processing that.
“And how long did that go on?”
Aaron shrugged.
“A couple of years.”
Parker turned his head sharply.
“A couple of years?”
“Not every day, obviously.”
For several seconds, Rick simply stared at him, trying to figure out whether he was joking. But Aaron looked completely serious.
“Every time I had free time, though, I came back to the case.”
Rick lowered his eyes to the folder. The pages seemed thin. Far too thin for a story that had haunted them for so many years.
“And all that time nobody wanted to reopen it?” he exhaled.
“For most people, it was an old closed case.” Lake gave a short chuckle. “Especially for Young.”
The car turned smoothly through an intersection while the rain drummed harder against the roof.
“So the cabin didn't give you anything either.”
“Nothing at all.”
Rick ran a finger thoughtfully along the edge of the folder.
“That's strange.”
“What is?”
“I don't know.” He frowned. “It's just... if Katie really did see or learn something, somebody should've left a trace.”
“They should have.”
“But after ten years, there was absolutely nothing there...”
Lake gave him a brief look.
Rick opened the file again. The same cheerful, happy Katie looked back at him from the old photograph. He knew Lake too well to believe he'd done a half-hearted search.
So that wasn't it.
His gaze lingered on the photo for a little longer.
“But then suddenly her bracelet turns up. And right after that, the cigarette butt.”
“Mm.”
“Isn't that a lot of events for just a few days?”
“You think somebody started visiting the place again?”
“I don't know,” Rick admitted honestly. “But something changed. Otherwise I can't explain why nothing showed up there for years, and now we've got two leads at once.”
“Maybe,” Lake agreed quietly.
For a while, they both fell silent again.
The car glided along the wet road while houses and scattered streetlights drifted past outside in dark blurs.
Parker let out a long breath and flipped through a few more pages.
“Speaking of the cigarette butt.”
“Mm?”
“You didn't send it to Smith for no reason.”
“What exactly do you think I was supposed to do?”
“I don't know. Listen to a lecture about how ten-year-old cigarette butts don't usually sit in the middle of a forest?”
This time Lake actually smiled.
“That's pretty much what he told me.”
Rick huffed.
“And then he checked it anyway?”
“And then he checked it anyway.”
“Meaning he owes you one.”
One of Aaron's eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Are you flattering me?”
“I'm talking about Smith.”
“Of course.”
This time, a smile appeared on Rick's face too.
“A medical examiner with thirty years of experience isn't going to waste time on nonsense just
because somebody asked nicely.”
“Sometimes you have an amazingly high opinion of me.”
“Pff.”
Rick only rolled his eyes.
Arguing was pointless. The smile still lingered on his face, but his gaze drifted back to the folder in his lap.
The cigarettes. The cabin. Ten years.
Suddenly, all of it felt far too important to be distracted from.
“So what did Smith say?”
“That the cigarettes are relatively recent.”
Parker slowly raised his head.
“How recent?”
“A couple of months. Maximum.”
The wipers scraped softly across the windshield, cutting through the streams of rain.
“So that cigarette butt showed up there after Katie disappeared?”
“About ten years after Katie disappeared,” Aaron corrected.
Rick glanced at him thoughtfully.
“And it was a fairly rare brand?”
“Yeah.”
“And somebody was hanging around that exact cabin for some reason?”
“Mm-hm.”
“That sounds promising.”
“That's exactly why I sent it to Smith,” Lake replied calmly.
Rick nodded slowly.
For several seconds, he stared out the window, watching raindrops slide down the glass and smear the lights of oncoming cars.
Something still didn't fit. The bracelet, the cigarette butt, and now Coop.
He frowned.
“You know what bothers me?”
“What?”
“It all started moving at the same time.”
Lake cast him a brief glance. Parker paused, searching for the right words.
“Ten years of nothing. Then within a few days we find a bracelet, a cigarette butt, learn about the drugs... and suddenly run into Mark Cooper.”
He shook his head.
“I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking it, but that's a lot of things all at once.”
Aaron's expression tightened.
“Would you believe me if I said that worries me too?”
Rick didn't answer.
He stared at the rain-smeared lights beyond the window and suddenly realized he'd been looking at the same spot for several minutes.
Fragments of old conversations circled through his mind. The police station. Katie. And... Aaron.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose irritably.
No.
Better not think about that. But the thought refused to let go.
“I remember they questioned me last,” he said at last. “Right after you.”
He faltered on the last words.
Beyond that lay territory he wasn't eager to enter.
“Mark was acting strange that day. Kept looking at his watch, then at the door. Like he was waiting for someone or late for something.”
He paused, trying to reconstruct the events.
“Then Michael King showed up. Said something to Young, and they sent all of us home pretty quickly after that.”
Rick turned his head.
“You have any idea what they could've been talking about?”
Aaron didn't answer right away. For a while, he simply watched the road, as though sorting through old facts in his head.
“Not for certain,” he finally said. “But I did uncover something later.”
Rick looked at him expectantly.
“It turned out that around the same time, the town was negotiating with investors.”
“Seriously?”
Lake gave a slight nod.
“The lumber mill was basically in its final months back then. People were losing jobs. Families were moving away. If Katie's disappearance had turned into a major story, it could've scared off the people planning to invest in the town.”
Rick slowly straightened in his seat.
“Wait.”
He felt separate pieces beginning to click together.
“So you think King could've pressured Young?”
“I think that's a possibility.”
Rick lowered his gaze to the old folder again. The stamp reading CASE CLOSED suddenly seemed especially inappropriate.
“If that's true,” he said quietly, “then somebody had a reason to make sure the case disappeared from the news as quickly as possible.”
“Yeah.”
“Which means if the case really was buried for the sake of investors, somebody got the perfect cover.”
Aaron didn't answer. Only his fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
Rick slowly closed the folder.
Mark Cooper's face surfaced in his mind again, followed by the cigarette butt with its thin red band and Katie's bracelet, found beneath dust after ten years.
And with every passing minute, it all felt less and less like coincidence.
***
Mark Cooper lived on the edge of town, in a ghost of a building originally constructed for lumber mill workers. Now it stood amid overgrown weeds — peeling, with crumbling balconies and black windows like empty eye sockets. Most of the residents had moved out years ago. Rusting bicycles still stood in the stairwell beneath layers of dust and cobwebs, but a few people still clung to the place.
Inside, the air smelled of dampness, old wood, and stagnant water. Somewhere upstairs, water dripped steadily, and the stairs creaked softly beneath their feet.
Parker and Lake stopped outside the right door.
No words were necessary. Both of them understood they hadn't come here for a friendly conversation. Lake raised his hand and knocked.
The sound echoed through the empty stairwell.
Rick caught himself unconsciously holding his breath. For some reason, facing an old friend frightened him far more than he wanted to admit.
He stole a glance at Aaron.
Lake stood motionless, his posture as steady as ever. Only his eyes were heavier than usual. No calm detachment. No distance. Just cold concentration.
Something creaked on the other side of the door. Then the lock clicked, and the door slowly opened.
Tobacco smoke, stale air, and something metallic drifted out from the apartment. Mark stood in the doorway.
Gaunt. Dark circles beneath his eyes. Shoulders slumped. For several seconds, he simply stared at them, as though he didn't recognize them right away.
“Hey, Cooper,” Lake said calmly.
The corner of Mark's mouth twitched into something resembling a smile.
“Lake...” His voice came out hoarse. “Been a long time.”
“Been a long time.”
Cooper's gaze shifted to Rick, and he froze. This time, for real. For a few moments, he simply stared at him, as if trying to make sure he wasn't mistaken.
“Parker?”
