Maximum Exposure by Allison Brennan

afternoon had cleared up; moonlight lit the high clouds. She found a table away from the doors.
    The hostess approached with a smile. “May I get you and your guest anything, Ms. Revere?”
    “Pinot grigio for me.” She turned to Pence. “You?”
    “Coffee,” he said. “Black.”
    The hostess left and Max leaned back. Pence didn’t. She began.
    “First, thank you for coming out here. I would have been happy to meet with you tomorrow at your office.”
    “I’ll be in the field tomorrow,” he said. “You said you wanted to discuss the Scott Sheldon disappearance.” He looked her in the eye. “I hope you’re not here to give his mother false hope that he might be alive. It’s been nearly six months, much of it in subzero overnight temperatures.”
    “I suspect, as you do, that he’s dead. And has been since the weekend he disappeared. But I read the police reports and today spoke to some of the people involved, plus a girl who knew him and the three boys. Something is off about their story, and I want the truth. Scott’s mother deserves to know what really happened.”
    Chuck didn’t say anything as the hostess delivered their beverages. Max sipped her wine. She was in no rush.
    “What makes you think that anything other than what’s been said happened?”
    He didn’t have an accusatory or suspicious tone. Matter-of-fact with a hint of curiosity.
    “I can’t point to one specific reason why I think that the boys are lying. It’s more a big picture feeling I get.” She paused, not for the first time wondering if her past and everything that had happened with Karen were clouding her judgment. And, not for the first time, she dismissed her worries.
    I need to know what happened to my son. I need the truth.
    “Adele Sheldon wrote to me after your office started looking again for Scott’s body. She convinced me that Scott wasn’t the type of person to put himself in danger. She has questions that haven’t been answered. He didn’t hike or camp, and—”
    “And that makes him that much more likely not to understand the dangers of wandering off.”
    Max gave Chuck a nod. “It also makes me wonder why he agreed to go camping that weekend with three boys he barely knew. He had no relationship with the kids before college. None of the kids was his roommate. They had some equipment, but not the type of gear seasoned campers would take in this climate.”
    “I agree with you on the latter point, but I’ve been doing this for years. If I had a nickel for every camper who went up unprepared…” His voice trailed off. “What else? They were college students, irresponsible. Frankly, I’d call them stupid, and their stupidity got one of their friends killed.”
    “That’s the thing—I don’t think they were friends.”
    Max continued. “Jess Sanchez, who works in the bookstore, was a friend of Scott’s. She let me access her social media pages. She’s Facebook friends with all three boys. I looked through each photo archive, and there were no photos of Scott with any of them except for one.” She knew she was about to tread on dangerous ground here—but since there was no criminal investigation into Scott’s disappearance, and the picture had been posted publicly, she figured she was warranted. “I downloaded a photo taken at the campsite. However, it was uploaded the morning after it was taken. I sent it to a friend of mine in New York who can get the GPS data off the photo, when and where it was uploaded.”
    “What is that going to tell you?”
    “I don’t know yet, but in the police reports, the boys claimed they had no cellular reception at the campground, yet they also claim they didn’t leave until noon on Saturday. They must have uploaded it elsewhere. Then, on Twitter I found tweets from Tom Keller—who can’t seem to go ten minutes without telling the world something trivial about himself—sent Saturday night. Mostly innocuous stuff, but again, no cell coverage, so where was he