Strands of crime scene tape surrounded the Tracker. Within the yellow ring several crime scene investigators were scrutinizing the vehicle. Byrd, who stood next to Littlepage outside the circle, asked, "Did you find the hat?"

One of the investigators nodded and answered, "Sure did. It was stuffed under the driver’s seat. It's over in the truck with something else you'll want to see."

Byrd and Littlepage both raised eyebrows and turned to walk toward a van marked "Crime Scene Unit". There, one of the technicians greeted him with a smile and said, "Hey Byrd, how are you? Littlepage?"

"Just fine, what you got for us?" Byrd asked.

He turned and gestured to several items sitting on the floor of the van, just inside the back door and said, "We got the hat, of course. Just like you were hoping. I've got it bagged up and ready to go to a jeweler to examine the diamond. We found something else really interesting though."

The man picked up a plastic bag and handed it to Byrd. Byrd examined it and said, "Shoes. You found shoes?"

"Not just shoes," he responded and pointed to a red blotch on one of the shoes. "This is blood. And a good print."

Byrd turned the package to get a good look and then held it out for Littlepage to see. Littlepage's eyes widened and he said, "Interesting? No crap. I can't wait for the DNA and print to come back."

"We'll be working on it."

"Can I get a picture of those right away?" Byrd asked.

"You got it, man," the technician said as he retrieved the shoes and placed them back in the van. "Give me a few minutes to print it."

Littlepage followed Byrd as he turned back toward the tracker and said, "Those are women’s shoes and don't look like they come close to fitting our guy. Who do you think they belong to?"

"My money's on this new girl. The Wade girl."

"Maybe the sister can identify them?"

"I'm hoping. So you reckon he just dumped the car here?"

Littlepage shrugged, "If he did, how's he getting around?"

"Maybe he had a friend up here. What do we know about his friends?"

"You mean other than geocachers? We don't know that he has any. He's an investment advisor, works out of his house, and has no family that we know of."

"What about the geocachers? Any we can connect him to?"

"None in particular, but he's pretty active. Seems to be pretty well-known, at least locally."

"We should talk to some of these people."

"You know what, there's an event tonight."

"An event? Tonight?"

"Yes, it's a get-together. A little party kind of thing. I don't really remember any of the details though. I'll need to check the page to see what's going on."

"Well, we're meeting with the Wade girl's sister in an hour. After that, we've got to be back at the office. I've gotta talk to the Captain. You can get online and get the details then. When we get the reports on the diamond and the shoes, I have a feeling we're gonna want the Serial Finder guy bad."

The men had been carried through the brush on a wave of adrenaline and were now back at the Jeep, drawing deep breaths. "What are we going to do?" Mark asked.

Joe paused and answered, "That's up to you, but I'm up for going on."

"That was just... that was just... I don't know."

"No kidding, I had that thing in my hand!"

Mark closed his eyes tightly and shook his head, "I don't know what I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting that."

"Look at your legs," Joe said.

Mark looked down to see his shins scratched and bloodied. "There's a reason they're called 'saw' palmettos."

"Seems I've heard you say that before. You don't start wearing pants, you won't have any flesh left on your shins."

"Real men cache in shorts," Mark chuckled.

"Right. So now what?"

"Let's go on. We can always call, but once I call, I'm probably done dancing. I’ve got to call my lawyer though."

"Cell reception here sucks,” Joe said. He held up his GPS and added, "We're heading back through town. You might want to wait and do it on the way."

"Sounds good."

Plans made, the men climbed into the Jeep and drove away.

Amy Wade lived in an apartment complex on the west side of Jacksonville. It was right off the interstate, so the drive out to the truck stop would have been an easy one. The woman must have seen them standing in the parking lot, because she opened the door and called to the men, "Are you the detectives?"

"Yes ma’am," said Byrd, "Can we talk to you a few minutes?"

"Of course. Come on in."

The men walked to the door and entered the apartment. Amy offered them a seat, which they declined, and then asked, "Can I see some identification?"

"Certainly ma’am." Byrd pulled his badge from the clip on his belt and said, "I'm Detective Byrd and this is Deputy Littlepage."

Littlepage flashed his badge and gave a smile.

"So could you tell us about what happened?" Byrd asked.

Amy recounted the story of dropping her sister off at the truck stop and waiting for the call to pick her up. The call that never came. She explained her efforts to find her that morning and how she had finally given up and decided to go to the authorities.

"And she was involved in prostitution?"

She held her head down and answered, "Yes. It wasn't a regular thing with her but she would do it when she was short of money. When rent was due. When her car broke down. That sort of thing."

"Drugs?"

"No, if fact she just got a job that she had to pass a drug test for."

"I see. Can you describe what she was wearing?"

"Just jeans and a tank top as I recall. Yellow, I think."

"What about her shoes?" Byrd continued to probe as Littlepage began to look around the apartment.

"I'm not sure, but probably her Nikes."

"What color?"

"White, with some kind of colored markings. Purple. Or pink maybe."

Byrd pulled a photograph out of an envelope and handed it to her, "Could these be her shoes?"

Amy looked at the picture silently for a few moments and then nodded, "Those are hers. She left them lying around enough." She rubbed a tear from her eye and asked, "Where did you find them?"

"In an abandoned car. Are you sure they were the ones she was wearing last night?"

"I'm not positive, but I think so."

Littlepage, who had strolled to the far side of the room, asked, "She lived here?"

"Yes, we were roommates."

"Whose was this?" Littlepage asked as he pointed to a GPS unit hanging on the corner of a shelf.

"That? That's Maddy's."

"Have you ever heard of geocaching?"

"Um, yes. Maddy used to use it for that sometimes when she went hiking."

"So she's a geocacher?" Littlepage continued.

"A little. I don't think she did it more than a few times."

"Any idea what her screen name was?"

"No, not really. I don't know anything about it. She used to try to get me to go but I never did."

"Ms. Broudy?" Mark said when a female voice answered the phone.

"Yes, this is Gina Broudy."

"This is Mark. Mark Quaintence. I was calling about that list."

"Right. I just got the fax from the analyst. Unfortunately, you can't be excluded as the author of the list. Block lettering is just too difficult to get a definitive elimination. The good news is that it can't be proven that it IS your handwriting."

"Well, that's something I guess. What now?"

"We need to discuss that. There have been some new developments."

"Developments?"

"Yes, another body was found in Jennings."

"What? Where?"

"I'm not certain," Gina explained, "but so-called 'unnamed sources' in the Clay County Sheriff’s department are reportedly claiming it's connected to the body that YOU found."

"Holy crap! The cache!" Mark shouted into the phone, "They found it at that cache I hid. That's got to be it."

"Exactly what I was thinking. You're going to need to come back home. They're probably going to be issuing a warrant. At least to pick you up for questioning. You'll want to surrender."

"Surrender, do you think it's come to that?"

"If they suspect you in multiple murders, you don't want them to have to track you down. There's no telling what could happen. It's just not safe."

"I see what you mean," Mark said and then paused in thought for a moment. "I tell you what, I'm doing a little investigation on my own right now. We'll see where that leads and I'll call back tonight and set something up."

"Investigation? What are you talking about?"

"I'm just checking some things out. I'll call back." He then disconnected the call and turned off the power on his phone. This was not looking good.

Captain Wilde sat behind his desk and motioned Byrd to a chair. "Looks like we’re finally seeing some evidence in these cases, aren't we?"

"You've got that right. Everything seems to be coming together," Byrd said with satisfaction.

"How sure are you of this Quaintence guy?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Byrd said while nodding. "He's 'found' one body. A police report puts him within a couple hundred feet of another and a witness reports seeing someone fitting his description in the same vehicle he drives at a third. Then we find a fourth body at a geocache he placed."

Wilde shook his head and said, "I'm not even sure I even understand what that's about."

"It's a game, kind of. He hides stuff and people use these GPS devices to find it. The important thing is it puts him at the spot this body was found. We think it's the Crist girl."

"Have we got the reports back on the other evidence?"

"The diamond checks out. The jeweler says that it's the very same diamond the victim bought. Her mother says she was wearing it when she disappeared and we found it in Serial Finder's hat."

"Serial Finder?"

"That's Quaintence. That's his Geocaching name."

"Cute."

"Exactly. That's just icing on the cake though. And then there are the shoes. From the missing girl. There's a print in blood. We were hoping it was his print, but it turned out it was hers. Maddy Wade. Just the same, they were in his car. No DNA results on the blood yet."

"Think she's dead?"

"We're not really sure. We suspect several of the victims were killed days or weeks after they were taken. She could be alive."

"All the more reason we need to move on this. What's next?"

"We're getting a warrant so when we do find him we can bring him in. Tonight, Littlepage and I are talking to some of his friends at a geocaching event. We're hoping we might get some insight into where he might hide out, or whom he might be with. Or at least what kind of vehicle he might be using now that he dumped the Tracker."

"A geocaching event?"

"Yep," Byrd nodded, "It's called "StressMaster's Meat and Greet". Meat is spelled M ... E ... A ... T ..."

"Cute."

"Exactly."