CHAPTER 33
Rick turned back to the laptop and opened the security footage again.
The familiar street froze on the screen, and then he zoomed in on the van.
“It was definitely the same one. Same broken mirror, same scratches along the body,” he said without taking his eyes off the screen. “What are the chances that’s just a coincidence?”
“Practically none.”
Aaron got up and walked around the desk.
He stopped behind him, slightly to the side, and leaned toward the screen. Rick felt it grow warmer beside him. Not because of any touch — Aaron wasn’t touching him — but simply because he was there. The scent of green tea, freshness, and citrus mingled with something so faint that Rick had long since unconsciously associated it only with Aaron.
He slowly exhaled, unexpectedly aware of the tension inside him beginning to ease.
“If the van really is connected to the murders,” Aaron said quietly, “then it must have shown up somewhere before. Service records, repairs, insurance, routes.”
“So we find the vehicle first, and the people afterward?”
“Yes,” Lake said with a nod.
Rick immediately rewound the footage and tried to enlarge the relevant part of the image.
“Damn,” he breathed. “You can’t see the license plate at all.”
He moved the footage forward a little, then back again, but no matter which frame he looked at, the image wouldn’t become any clearer.
“Look closely,” Aaron said a little more quietly, instinctively moving closer without touching him. “What else do you see?”
Rick tilted his head slightly. His eyes moved across the image.
One car, another. Coop’s gray pickup, Sarah turning the corner, the van they were looking for.
“Wait.”
“See it?” There was the faintest hint of a smile in Aaron’s voice.
“How did I not notice that right away?” Rick muttered, moving the cursor directly over the logo on the side of the van. “It really was right in front of us this whole time.”
Aaron was already reaching for the keyboard, but Rick beat him to it.
“Can I do it myself?”
After receiving an approving nod, Rick quickly opened the database and entered the company name.
“Dumpfield Trees,” he murmured, scanning the results.
A company profile appeared on the screen. He opened it and looked questioningly at Aaron.
“Right?”
He studied the screen for a moment.
“Almost.”
He moved a little closer and said quietly:
“Here.”
His fingers lightly touched a key. Rick watched each of his movements carefully.
“Open the registration details,” Aaron said, his voice calm right beside Rick’s ear, sending a quiet vibration through him. “There should be the legal address and all the branches.”
He stole a glance at him: the focused profile so close, his lashes shifting as he read, his quiet breathing. There was something strangely pleasant about watching him work.
Rick forced himself to turn back to the documents on the screen.
“Do you think,” he began a little more quietly, “the company itself could actually be connected to Sarah and Caroline’s killer?”
“It could be. But for now, it’s just a lead.”
Rick looked at the screen again.
“Then we need to find out who was driving that day?”
Aaron nodded.
“And figure out why that van was near Eddie Lou’s store in the first place.”
Rick eagerly opened another section of the database, but immediately frowned.
“There are too many documents here.”
Aaron leaned slightly over his shoulder and took the mouse.
Rick didn’t move away.
His gaze slipped back to Aaron’s profile, catching on the unruly strand of hair brushing his cheekbone, on the line of his lips.
His heart gave an involuntary flutter.
The memory flashed too brightly — their kiss, the warmth of their shared breath, and that feeling he had been trying so hard not to name.
Rick flushed instantly and turned his eyes sharply back to the screen.
He cleared his throat, trying to recover his usual professional tone.
“I know I’ve already asked, but… Dumpfield Trees is the mayor’s business, right? Everything involving logging and environmental projects?”
“Yes,” Aaron replied calmly.
Rick rested his cheek against his hand and asked much more quietly:
“Do you have the documents connected to King in your database?”
“I do. All the official records.”
“Will you show me?”
Aaron opened the relevant section.
A long table appeared on the screen: parcels of land, corporate registrations, lease agreements, construction permits, property renovations.
Rick scrolled through the list with interest.
“Jesus…” he breathed. “Half the town is here.”
“Not half,” Aaron corrected calmly. “Slightly less.”
Parker couldn’t help smiling.
Warehouses, forest lots, administrative buildings, an old chain of roadside cafés, an abandoned conservatory, industrial properties flashed past on the list.
He stopped.
“Wait. We have a conservatory in town?”
“We did. The old municipal conservatory,” Aaron said. “It was shut down about twenty years ago.”
Rick lingered on the entry for a moment, then scrolled through the list again.
“Does this cover the entire history?”
“Yes.”
“And the month Katie disappeared?”
Aaron quickly opened the relevant year and silently reviewed the records.
“No. There were no new transactions, transfers, or permits that month.”
Rick leaned back in the chair.
“Damn.”
Aaron didn’t answer immediately. He straightened, staring somewhere past the screen, then sat on the edge of the desk and folded his arms across his chest.
The office fell quiet again.
“I can see you’re thinking,” Rick said. “Care to share?”
Lake slowly shook his head.
“Not yet.”
Rick spun slightly in the chair.
“But something caught your attention?”
“If King really is connected to this case, then we shouldn’t be looking only at his records.”
He frowned.
“Whose, then?” Rick asked.
“Everyone who was around him.”
“Well, there are always a ton of people around him,” he said, waving a hand lazily. “The list will be enormous.”
Aaron looked at Rick. At first absently, as though he were still thinking about something else. Then he suddenly went still.
His brows slowly drew together.
“Maybe we don’t need all of them…”
“What are you talking about?” Rick asked, confused.
Lake turned back to the laptop and opened a new window.
“I want to check something else.”
“What exactly?”
“Cases Harrison Young was involved in that year.”
Parker perked up slightly, lifting his head and peering curiously at the monitor.
“Why him?”
“Instinct.”
Rick snorted and deliberately folded his arms across his chest.
“Instinct?” The corner of his mouth involuntarily lifted. “Interesting. Who did you pick that up from?”
Aaron looked away from the monitor and at him.
“I don’t know,” he said seriously, then, after a brief pause, added more softly, “But his name definitely doesn’t start with an R.”
They exchanged a look.
Rick laughed quietly, without even realizing that he had leaned slightly forward.
“Oh… very clever.”
“I tried,” Aaron said, lifting an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.
“Careful,” Rick smiled even wider. “You might get used to this.”
He lazily rocked back in the chair. The wheels squeaked softly again, and the chair unexpectedly caught against the leg of the desk. Rick muttered a quiet curse under his breath.
Aaron huffed a laugh. This time, the smile didn’t disappear immediately.
Rick caught himself feeling surprisingly at ease beside him.
Lake scrolled through several more documents and stopped at one.
“There. A sawmill.”
The smile disappeared from his face as quickly as it had appeared. In an instant, he was focused and composed again.
“Does the timing match?” Rick asked.
“Almost.”
Aaron opened the document.
“The property was transferred two months before Katie disappeared.”
Rick leaned closer to the screen.
“What do you mean, transferred? It was closed down, wasn’t it?”
“Officially, no.”
Rick frowned.
“Then to whom?”
Aaron looked at the screen again. He silently reviewed the documents for several seconds.
“Unclear.”
“Who owns it?”
“The owner is concealed through a trust and corporate structure. The registry doesn’t list the ultimate owner.”
Rick frowned and tapped his fingers softly against the desk.
“Looks like someone went to a lot of trouble to stay in the shadows.”
Aaron scanned the document once more.
“Wait,” Rick suddenly said, turning toward him. “What does Young have to do with any of this? He’s a former detective. He wasn’t handling property registrations.”
Aaron nodded slowly.
“Exactly.”
He closed the document and thought for a few seconds.
“I’m not interested in the transfer.”
“Then what?”
“Why the owner was concealed. And whether it’s connected to the fact that Katie’s case was buried after the transfer.”
Rick fell silent.
“You said the city was negotiating with investors around that time.”
“Yes,” Aaron nodded. “According to the rumors, they were supposed to come into town around the middle of December.”
Rick thoughtfully ran his fingers along the armrest.
“Do we know who they were?”
“Not for certain,” Lake answered honestly. “But I did dig up something.”
He opened another document.
“According to those same rumors, one of the investors was supposed to be a very influential family involved in transportation. The surname isn’t listed anywhere.”
Parker slowly straightened.
“Wait.”
He felt the separate pieces in his head beginning to fall into place.
“So if someone really tried to bury the case, it wasn’t only in the interests of whoever wanted something hidden.”
Aaron looked at him carefully.
“Exactly.”
Rick slowly leaned back in the chair and laced his hands behind his head.
“God… My head is already spinning,” he said, absently rubbing his aching temples. “How do you even keep up with all this information?”
The gray-blue eyes calmly moved over him.
“Then that’s enough for today.”
Rick blinked.
“Already?”
“Yes. It’s late.”
Aaron straightened and stretched, loosening his stiff back.
“Tomorrow we’ll stop by the Dumpfield Trees office. Then Young’s.”
Rick simply looked at him for several seconds.
“Are you sending me home now?”
“I’m going home too.”
A reluctant smile appeared at the corners of Rick’s lips.
“And here I thought you were capable of working around the clock.”
“I am.”
Aaron picked up the folder from the desk.
“But for the first day back after sick leave, we’ve done enough.”
***
Snow drifted slowly through the air. Small, sharp flakes caught in Rick’s hair and eyelashes, melting almost immediately and leaving cold droplets against his skin. The frost stung his face, crept beneath his jacket collar, and stubbornly found its way into his fingers.
Rick shifted from foot to foot, feeling the cold slowly seep through his boots. He hated weather like this. But inside him, a quiet, stubborn warmth still smoldered, refusing for some reason to disappear.
It took him a moment to realize that it had nothing to do with his jacket.
Aaron was standing beside him. Slightly behind, almost shoulder to shoulder, and somehow that alone was enough to make the icy air feel less hostile.
They were waiting for Billy, who was still fumbling with keys and paperwork as he finally made his way out of the car.
Rick took out a cigarette and lit it. His cold fingers tightened around the filter, the smoke slowly dissolving into the freezing air while the tobacco burned steadily and calmly.
Aaron instinctively scanned the parking lot.
Several work vans with the green “Dumpfield Trees” logo stood along the far row. Most of the spaces
were empty — presumably the vehicles were already out on jobs.
“I’ll take a quick look around,” he said quietly and, without waiting for a response, walked between the rows of parked cars.
Snow crunched louder beneath his boots. One vehicle, then another, then a third — identical work vans, nothing unusual.
He glanced back over his shoulder.
Rick had stayed by the car, still waiting for Billy. The ember of his cigarette glowed faintly in the freezing air, smoke slowly dissolving between the white rows of vehicles.
A minute later, Rick’s phone vibrated briefly in his pocket.
He pulled it out and unlocked the screen.
Aaron L.: 2 new messages.The first was a photo: an old work van with a peeling driver’s door and a broken side mirror wrapped in dirty duct tape.
There was only one word beneath the photo:
“This one?”Rick’s heart tightened unpleasantly.
He abruptly raised his head and scanned the parking lot.
At the far end, near the dumpsters, Aaron was standing. He wasn’t waving or calling him over — he was simply waiting.
Rick quickly typed a reply.
“Yes.”He tossed his cigarette aside and headed toward him at a brisk pace.
“You found it,” he said quietly when he reached him.
Without wasting time, he took out his camera and quickly snapped several pictures.
Click. Rusted front end.
He stepped a little closer and photographed the VIN.
Click. Close-up of the license plate — dirty, as though deliberately obscured, but still readable.
Rick moved on, trying not to make too much noise on the snow crunching beneath his feet.
Click. The peeling driver’s door, the paint long since flaking away in chunks.
Two more shots — the rear doors, dents, and marks from heavy impacts.
Click. The worn logo on the side, as though someone had tried to scrub it away.
Rick crouched down, angling the lens lower.
Click-click. Close-up of the tires — deep tread packed with snow and dirt.
He worked with practiced confidence, but his heart was pounding as though he were stealing the shots. He kept feeling as though the door might open at any second and someone would step outside. Rick glanced at Aaron. He stood a few steps away, silently watching him work.
He turned his attention back to the van, mentally checking that he had captured everything. He returned to the windshield and took a few additional shots of the VIN, just in case. The whole thing took less than a minute, but it felt like an eternity.
Rick switched off the camera, put it back in his bag, and only then turned to Aaron.
“I’m here!” Billy called, running up to them out of breath, awkwardly clutching the folder against his chest. “It took me forever to find you. You could’ve at least told me where you went.”
“Don’t grumble. Did you bring everything?” Rick asked calmly.
“Y-yes,” Billy breathed, nodding quickly.
Today, Rick found him unusually tense. His cheeks were red, whether from the cold or from nerves. His shoulders were stiff, his eyes kept dropping beneath his lashes, and he answered questions briefly, as though afraid of saying too much.
Rick found himself watching him for a moment longer. Something was clearly bothering the young man, but there was no time to figure it out now.
Lake was already heading toward the building. Rick and Billy followed him in silence.
The office was small, a single-story building. Brown brick, a glass door, several fir trees by the entrance, and a huge green “Dumpfield Trees” logo above the façade. Modest and without any unnecessary show — much like the company itself.
Inside, a manager sat behind the reception desk. A man in his mid-thirties, with a slightly scruffy beard.
Rick remembered the plan. An insurance company, a document check, a few questions — nothing complicated.
With Lake and Hong beside him, he felt confident enough, so he approached the desk with his usual smile:
“Good morning. My partners and I are representatives of the ‘Dump-Save’ insurance company.”
“Hmm… certainly is a good morning,” the man drawled.
He straightened behind the desk and finally put his phone down.
“Matthew Morris. You can just call me Matt.”
“Jack Carter,” Rick introduced himself, extending his hand.
Matt shook it, but didn’t hurry to let go. His hand lingered for a couple of seconds longer than ordinary courtesy required, while his eyes traveled over Rick’s face.
“Nice to meet you, Jack.”
Rick frowned almost imperceptibly, but calmly withdrew his hand.
“Likewise.”
Matt smiled slightly.
“So you’re an insurance agent?”
Rick paused for a moment, then gave a quiet chuckle.
Now everything made sense.
“That’s right.”
“And what do I owe the pleasure of your personal visit?” he asked, leaning against the desk again.
There was a barely audible exhale behind him. Rick didn’t turn around, but for some reason he could
immediately picture Aaron’s expression.
“We need to clarify a few things regarding some of your vehicles,” he replied calmly.
“Ah…” Matt nodded, but clearly had no intention of moving away from the desk. “So it’s business.”
“Exactly.”
“Too bad,” Matt smiled more broadly. “I was starting to think you’d come here specifically for me.”
Rick blinked.
He was used to flirting. Usually, remarks like that meant nothing to him. But right now, for some reason, he only wanted to joke it off and steer the conversation back to business.
His gaze drifted to the side.
Aaron stood a little farther away, his expression completely indifferent. He looked as usual — as though what was happening didn’t interest him in the slightest. He reached for a brochure and calmly began looking through it.
And yet, for a moment, Rick thought something in that calmness had changed. His eyes seemed darker somehow. More attentive.
Rick smiled almost imperceptibly.
He thought he understood.
But before he could decide how to react, Matt leaned across the desk toward him again.
“Although, if you’d like, we could pretend you came here specifically for me, Jack.”
Rick gave a quiet snort.
“I’m afraid the insurance company would be very disappointed.”
“I think they’ll survive.”
Rick shook his head, hiding a smile.
“We really do need to talk about your vehicle fleet.”
“Of course,” Matt finally straightened. “I’ll answer all your questions.”
His gaze moved first to Lake, then to Hong.
“Although yesterday one of our vans was involved in a minor accident while out on a job.”
He bent down behind the desk and opened a cabinet.
“No one was hurt, but we had to leave the vehicle at the shop.”
Matt straightened with a stack of papers in his hands and stepped out from behind the desk. He walked several steps toward Lake and stopped in front of him.
“How convenient. Since you’re from the insurance company, maybe you could tell me whether everything’s in order with the paperwork?”
He placed the papers in Aaron’s hands, then looked back at Hong.
“You and your partner can sit at whichever table you like,” Matt said, pointing toward the last table at the far end of the room. “I recommend that one. No one will bother you there while you go through the information.”
Aaron tightened his grip on the papers slightly.
“Thank you for the recommendation,” he replied dryly.
Rick bit the inside of his lip, hiding a smile. He cleared his throat, returning to his calm voice.
“Have insurance claims involving your vehicles become more frequent lately?”
“As you can see, you didn’t come here for nothing today,” Matt said with a snort.
He returned to Rick but didn’t go back behind the desk. He simply stopped opposite him and leaned casually against the countertop.
Pages rustled quietly off to the side. Rick could hear Aaron and Billy diligently turning through the papers, pretending to be completely absorbed in the documents.
“We’d like to cross-check our records with your dispatch log,” Rick leaned against the countertop as well, mirroring his posture, and smiled gently. “Could you give us access?”
“Well, I don’t know…” Matt lazily stroked his beard.
“Don’t worry,” Rick lowered his voice, his smile growing warmer. “We won’t take up much of your time.”
“Why, that would be rather rude of you,” Matt said, narrowing his eyes slightly as the corners of his mouth curled into a pleased smirk.
“In that case,” Rick summoned the most charming smile he could manage, “would you let me take a look at your log?”
Matt thought for a moment. He lazily ran his thumb along the edge of the counter, as though genuinely weighing the offer. He tilted his head slightly, and something mischievous appeared in his smile.
“Maybe if you leave me your number, I could think about it…”
Rick paused briefly, as though seriously considering the offer, then looked him straight in the eye.
“Of course,” he breathed a little more quietly, “I’d be happy to give you the company’s number.”
Matt nodded in satisfaction and briefly ran his tongue over his lips. His eyes traveled over Rick again, and he leaned slightly closer.
“I think,” his voice dropped lower, becoming more insinuating, “your personal number would be better.”
The rustling of papers behind him stopped.
Rick physically felt a shiver run down his spine. He didn’t even need to turn around to know how tightly Aaron’s jaw was clenched.
“What if I need a private consultation?” Matt added.
“I’m afraid I don’t provide that kind of service. It’s against company policy.”
Rick gave a quiet chuckle. There wasn’t a trace of embarrassment on his face, but his gaze grew more intent.
“Although, perhaps,” he drawled, “I could convince them otherwise.”
He leaned a little closer to the counter, deliberately narrowing the distance between them.
“If I got to take a look at your log. What do you say?”
Matt blinked in surprise. Then he laughed softly.
