In June of 2014, 22-year-old photographer Aldrich Wayne and his girlfriend, 23-year-old geology student Ara Marorrow, set out on a hiking trail in the San Isabel National Forest in Colorado. Their goal was to reach a picturesque plateau with unique rock formations. They never returned.
For five long years, they were considered missing until in May of 2019, geologist Eliza Reynolds came across a gruesome discovery in a remote tract known as the Stone Claw. High on the branch of an old spruce tree hung two dark, almost black with time silhouettes. The forest wilderness had been their last secret hideout for 5 years. But now the most terrible question remained unanswered: who and why had turned the dream of perfect landscape photographs into a horrific end to two young lives.
They started their hike at 7 in the morning on June 15, 2014. Dawn had just touched the tops of the spruce trees, but there were still islands of fog in the crevices of the San Isabel National Forest. Aldrich Wayne was carefully checking his gear while his girlfriend Ara Marorrow made the last entries in her journal.
Their blue Jeep Cherokee was parked at the Mountain Duth trail head, one of the least visited trails in this part of Colorado.
“We’ll be back Sunday night, no later than 8,”
Era told her mother over the phone at 10:45 from the Rocky Mountain gas station in Weserve. It was their last contact with the outside world.
Aldrich slung his heavy backpack over his shoulders. The 22-year-old naturalist photographer dreamed of taking a series of pictures of rare rock formations on the plateau at the moment when the evening sun turned them coppery. These photographs were to be the centerpiece of his first solo exhibition scheduled for July.
Era, a year older than him, took her geological hammer. She was studying the local rocks for her graduate thesis and planned to collect samples from the upper tier of the plateau where most tourists did not reach.
“It’s going to be hot today.”
Aldrich took off his denim jacket and threw it in the back seat. This simple gesture would later become the first proof that they had actually set out on the trail.
The first mile was easy, a wide path stretched between pine trees. According to the GPS, there were about 8 miles of the route left to the coveted plateau, which was becoming increasingly difficult. They expected to get there by evening, spend the night, and return the next day. It was a simple plan that thousands of hikers do every year without any problems.
At the first halt near a small stream, Era took a picture of an unusual rock with her phone. This photo will remain in her cloud storage as the last moment of a peaceful trip.
“Do you hear that?”
Aldrich suddenly asked, raising his head.
“Like the sound of an engine. There are no roads here.”
Era was surprised, but she listened.
“Maybe foresters.”
They continued on their way, going deeper into the forest where the path became less and less visible. At 13 hours and 20 minutes, Aldrich made the last entry in his GPS tracker. They were 4 miles from the trail head near a rocky outcrop where the trail turned sharply east.
After that point, their route became a mystery that haunted rescuers, investigators, and relatives for 5 years. On Sunday evening, when the young people did not call or return, their parents began to worry. Era’s mother dialed her number every 30 minutes, but the phone was unavailable. At 22:30, Aldrich’s father called the rescue service.
“They are experienced tourists,”
he explained.
“My son is never late. Something has happened.”
However, the official search did not begin until 8:00 in the morning on Monday, June 16th. A team of six US Forest Service rangers and four volunteers from the Colorado Rescue Squad arrived at the trail head. Their Jeep Cherokee was parked in the same spot where the young couple had left it 3 days earlier.
It was locked with no signs of forced entry. On the back seat was Aldrich’s denim jacket. There are documents in the glove compartment and a spare water canister in the trunk. The rescue team split into three parts and began combing the area. Two search dogs, a black Labrador named Rex and a German Shepherd named Sira, picked up the trail of the car, but lost it about a mile later in a rocky area.
This is exactly where the last entry in Aldrich’s GPS tracker was. By the evening, the entire known part of the route had been examined. No trace of the camp, no scraps of clothing or signs of struggle. The pair seemed to have vanished into thin air. The next day, a helicopter joined the search. It circled over the dense forest for 5 hours, but the pilot, Captain Jeffrey Thompson, reported that the dense tree canopy made it impossible to effectively survey the area from the air.
Sergeant Robert Hayes, the head of the search operation, stood by a map on the hood and circled the areas that had already been checked with a marker.
“You see, Mr. Wayne,”
he said to Aldrich’s father, who was demanding that the search be expanded.
“The San Isabel National Forest is almost 400,000 acres of wilderness. We can’t search it all.”
By the end of the week, the search team had grown to 30 people. It was joined by volunteers from neighboring counties, friends, and colleagues of the missing. They expanded the search area by 5 miles in all directions from the last known point. On the 9th day, the rescuers found an old tourist campsite 2 miles from where the dogs had lost their trail.
There were traces of a campfire, but experts determined that the fire was at least 2 weeks old. On the 10th day, a severe thunderstorm forced the search to stop. When the rain stopped, a new team set out to search. This time with experienced climbers who examined the rocky parts of the route where the fall could have occurred.
But even this attempt was in vain. 3 weeks after the disappearance, the active phase of the search was officially over. Sergeant Hayes held the last briefing for the media and relatives.
“We’ve done everything we can,”
he said, visibly exhausted.
“It remains to classify this case as a disappearance under unexplained circumstances.”
It was at this point that Aldrich’s father, William Wayne, stood up and said a phrase that would later appear in all the local newspapers.
“The forest couldn’t just swallow two people. Someone knows what happened and I will find that person.”
Little did he realize that the answer would come only 5 years later, and it would be far more terrifying than all his worst guesses.
The San Isabel National Forest, hugging the ridges of the Rocky Mountains, has long been a place where people have gotten lost. But each time there was an explanation: a fatal fall, an encounter with a bear, a sudden change in weather. Disappearance without a trace is a rarity that evokes a strange sense of unease, as if something is fundamentally broken in the usual order of things.
The case of Aldrich Wayne and Ara Marorrow went from active to cold slowly, almost imperceptibly as the evening twilight enveloped the forest. On July 1st, 2014, the Fremont County Sheriff’s Investigations Department officially reclassified the case from missing persons to missing under unexplained circumstances.
“We’re not stopping the search,”
Sheriff Michael Caldwell explained at a press conference at 10:00 a.m.
“But we need to recognize that all standard procedures have been exhausted.”
For the families of the disappeared, this statement was like a funeral bell. But it was not the end of their struggle.
“I can’t just sit here and wait for my child to be found in a ravine 10 years from now,”
said Karen Marorrow, Era’s mother, clutching her daughter’s photo during a meeting with journalists on July 25th. On the same day, Aldrich and Era’s parents hired a Denver-based private investigator, Michael Thornton, a former Colorado police investigator with 20 years of experience.
Thornton specialized in complex disappearance cases in mountainous terrain and had a reputation for not giving up until he’s checked out the last lead.
“The first thing to understand about disappearances in the mountains,”
Thornton said during his first meeting with the families on August 5th at 9:30 in the morning,
“is that they are rarely completely without trace. Even if a person dies in the most remote corner, there’s always something left behind. A piece of clothing, a footprint, a gas station camera that captured a stranger. We have to find that clue.”
Thornton started the investigation from scratch. He re-interviewed everyone who could theoretically have seen the pair: employees of the gas station, tourists who visited the area in mid-June, rangers, and local residents. The detective spent 14 hours a day reviewing surveillance footage and analyzing mobile traffic in the area.
The breakthrough came in October when Thornton was talking to a local forester who happened to mention that illegal loggers periodically appear in the area.
“Most of them are petty thieves who cut down a few valuable trees,”
the forester explained during a conversation near a lookout at an elevation of 9,400 ft.
“They can cut down hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of trees in a few days.”
A check of the archives revealed that a week before the couple disappeared, rangers had discovered evidence of illegal logging about 3 miles from the mountain muzzle trail. The trees bore distinctive markings, and satellite imagery showed areas of sparse forest that had recently appeared.
Thornton found that a team of illegal loggers had probably been working in the forest in June 2014. But after the couple disappeared, they disappeared without a trace. No informant was able or willing to point them out.
“The connection is obvious,”
Thornton wrote in his report to the families on November 1st.
“Aldrich and Ira could have accidentally stumbled upon an illegal logging site. And if the loggers thought the tourists could inform the authorities, this version provided a logical explanation, but had no direct evidence.”
Months passed. The families organized a volunteer search on the last Saturday of every month. Friends, colleagues, and ordinary people who cared would gather at the entrance to the mountain duth trail and comb through more and more areas of the forest.
“We’ll find them,”
Aldrich’s father, William Wayne, repeated every time journalists asked if it was time to come to terms with the loss.
On the first anniversary of the disappearance, June 15th, 2015, a memorial plaque was installed at the trail head. It was engraved with the silhouettes of Aldrich with a camera and Era with a geological hammer. The inscription read, “Disappeared in the forest, but not in our hearts.”
The case gradually disappeared from the front pages of newspapers. New tragedies filled the news, but the families did not stop searching.
“If we knew for sure that they were dead, we could bury them and get on with our lives,”
said Era’s mother in a rare interview on the second anniversary of the disappearance.
“But living in the dark is unbearable. Under Colorado law, a missing person can be declared dead after 5 years.”
The families refuse to even think about this possibility. By the third anniversary of the disappearance in June 2017, private investigator Thornton had exhausted almost every possible line of inquiry.
“I’ve checked out hundreds of theories,”
he admitted during a meeting with the families at a Denver coffee shop.
“From bear attack to alien abduction. Most of them don’t stand up to fact-checking.”
But one detail kept bothering the detective. Two tourists who visited San Isabel the year before Aldrich and Era disappeared had similar records. Both mentioned a strange hermit who aggressively demanded they leave his territory. The tourists described him as a tall man with a gray beard dressed in camouflage. One of them clearly remembered that the locals called the man Gordy.
The 4th anniversary passed in silent mourning. William Wayne fell ill and was unable to attend the annual memorial ceremony. The number of volunteers in the search was reduced to a handful of his most loyal friends. It seemed that even nature had forgotten about the tragedy. Young undergrowth had grown where the tents of the search teams once stood.
But the forest did not forget. It was just waiting for the time to reveal its secret. In early May of 2019, Colorado Minerals signed a contract with the state government to conduct geological exploration in the San Isabel National Forest. The goal was to create a new geologic map of the region, marking potential mineral extraction sites.
For this task, several field geologists were hired to work in different parts of the forest. One of them was 36-year-old Eliza Reynolds, an experienced geologist with a reputation for working in the most difficult conditions. The 5-year silence of the San Isabel forest was about to turn into the loudest scream.
Eliza Reynolds has been working for Colorado Minerals for 7 years. She joined the company right after graduating from the University of Denver with a master’s degree and has traveled to the most remote corners of the state. But even for her, the task of exploring the stone claw tract seemed unusual.
“12 miles from the nearest road,”
her supervisor, Richard Gardner, warned her when he handed her the map on May 17th at 9:00 a.m.
“Can you make it?”
Eliza just smiled. She grew up in a family of climbers and believed that the real work of a geologist begins where all roads end.
The next day at 6:00 in the morning, she was already walking along a forest path carrying a backpack with navigation equipment, tools, and a field diary. The stone claw tract lived up to its name: a black basalt outcrop resembled a huge claw stretching into the sky. Around it was a hollow overgrown with a dense spruce forest. It was here, according to the company, that deposits of rare metals could be found.
Eliza worked methodically. She took soil samples, recorded coordinates, and took pictures of rock outcrops, the usual routine of a field geologist. By noon, she had surveyed the eastern part of the hollow and was now moving toward the western slope.
At 14 hours and 45 minutes, having completed the collection of the last series of samples, she straightened up and stretched. At that moment, the clouds parted and a bright ray of sunlight illuminated the hollow. Something metallic glinted between the rocks a few dozen feet away.
“At first, I thought it was just trash.”
Eliza later said.
“Tourists often leave cans or foil, but something about that shine was unnatural.”
She came closer and saw that between two large boulders was a climbing carabiner with a piece of blue nylon tape attached to it. These are used to mark routes in difficult terrain.
“The color was too bright for something that could have been here for years,”
Eliza recalled,
“and the carabiner was deliberately fixed, as if someone was marking the spot.”
The experienced geologist immediately sensed that something was wrong. The stone claw was not a tourist route. The nearest trail was a few miles away, and few people dared to deviate from it for that distance. Eliza walked over to the boulder and picked up the carbine. It was well secured and obviously set up deliberately.
She looked around trying to figure out what exactly the mark meant. Climbing the nearest hill to get a better view of the area, she saw it. In the thick of the spruce forest about a 100 yards away, something dark and motionless was hanging from the branch of a huge tree.
Eliza’s heart beat faster. She pulled out the binoculars she always brought with her to look at remote geological formations. What she saw made her shudder. Hanging from a branch of an old spruce about 20 ft off the ground were two human bodies. They were almost black with age and their clothes were tattered by the winds and rains.
But even at this distance, Eliza could see a detail that made her cold. One of the figures was wearing a light pink fleece jacket.
“I remembered the news from 5 years ago.”
Eliza later said.
“A couple of tourists went missing. The girl was wearing a pink sweatshirt. I thought at the time, what an impractical thing to wear while hiking in the mountains.”
Shaking with shock, Eliza checked the coordinates on her GPS receiver. She was at an altitude of 8,682 ft above sea level, at a point with coordinates that would later become crucial in the criminal case. The geologist did not approach the eerie discovery. As a person working in the field, she knew the rules: do not touch anything that could be evidence and immediately notify the authorities.
Looking at the phone screen, Eliza realized that there was no connection. The closest point where she could make a call was at least 3 miles away at the top of a ridge. She marked the location on her GPS, took a few photos from afar, and quickly gathered her equipment. It was 15 hours and 20 minutes, and she had to hurry to reach the communication point before dark.
The climb up the ridge took almost 2 hours. When Eliza finally saw two bars of signal on her phone screen, it was already 17 hours and 10 minutes. She dialed the emergency number.
“Service 911, what is your emergency?”
A calm female voice answered.
“My name is Eliza Reynolds. I’m a geologist with Colorado Minerals.”
Her voice trembled despite her best efforts to speak clearly.
“I found bodies. Two people. They’re hanging from a tree. I think they are the hikers who disappeared 5 years ago.”
The operator asked her to stay put and told her that she was sending a search and rescue helicopter to the area. As she waited, Eliza sat on a rock, looking at the sun sinking toward the horizon, and felt the cold chill her to the bone.
Despite the warm May evening, the helicopter appeared 40 minutes later. Two officers from the Fremont County Sheriff’s Office and a National Forest Ranger descended from it. They quickly interviewed Eliza and having received the coordinates, went to the location.
“I’m going to stay here,”
she said when the ranger asked her to join him. She was still shaking.
The officers returned 40 minutes later. Their faces were stern.
“It looks like you’re right,”
said Sergeant Michael Baker, the senior officer.
“It looks like those missing hikers, but we need to wait for experts to confirm.”
Already in the helicopter that was taking her to the nearest town, Eliza looked out the window at the forest ranges below, plunging into dusk. Somewhere there in the wilderness, the forest had been keeping a terrible secret for 5 years, which people would now have to reveal.
At 21:45, the helicopter landed near the sheriff’s office in Weserve. Eliza was immediately escorted to Sheriff Caldwell’s office where she spent an hour describing her find in detail.
“The strangest thing is the carbine,”
she concluded.
“It was set up as if someone wanted the bodies to be found—like a signpost.”
The sheriff nodded, taking notes. He had aged 10 years in the last 5. The case of the missing tourists, which had been bothering him all these years, had finally gotten a resolution. But this solution seemed to be the beginning of an even bigger mystery.
No one slept that night at the sheriff’s office. Officers were scurrying around the corridors, phones were ringing, and more and more cars were pulling up to the building. And in a small motel on the outskirts of town, Eliza Reynolds couldn’t sleep for a long time, thinking about two young people whose dreams and plans were cut short in the depths of the San Isabel forest.
At dawn on May 19th, 2019, the stone claw turned into a veritable anthill. 20 people in uniform and civilian clothes carefully inspected every inch of the territory around the old spruce. Three specialists in white protective suits were carefully removing the gruesome discovery from the branch.
Investigator Evan Drake, an experienced forensic scientist with 20 years of experience, was in charge of the operation.
“Careful with the rope,”
he commanded at 7:20 when the technicians began lowering the bodies onto the tarp spread out below.
5 years in the Colorado climate had changed the bodies beyond recognition. The skin and soft tissue had long since disappeared, leaving only bones connected by remnants of tendons. Clothes, once bright, have faded to an indeterminate gray-brown color.
“A pink fleece jacket,”
forensic scientist Dr. Rachel King noted quietly.
“Looks like the description of Ara Marorrow’s clothing.”
The second body had the remains of a dark t-shirt with a logo that could still be made out: National Geographic. It was the same t-shirt, according to the parents, that Aldrich wore. Dr. King began her examination without waiting for transportation to the lab. Time was too precious.
“Notice the rope,”
she said, pointing to the synthetic cord that wrapped around the necks of both victims.
“This is no ordinary clothesline. It’s a special climbing cord used for belaying. The tensile strength is about 4,000 lbs.”
Evan Drake came closer, studying the knots.
“A double-loop noose,”
he noted.
“Professional, not just a hasty tie.”
Meanwhile, forensic scientists examined the area around the tree. Microfiber brushes were used to carefully walk over the bark. Metal detectors combed the soil for any metal objects. Ultraviolet lights searched for traces of biological materials, although after all these years, the chances were minimal.
At 10:15, investigator Drake called a meeting right at the crime scene.
“So, here we go,”
he began, opening his notebook.
“Two victims, tentatively identified as Aldrich Wayne and Ara Marorrow, hanging in a noose from a tree branch for approximately 5 years. The cause of death is likely asphyxiation due to hanging, but an autopsy will confirm this. No signs of camping or tents in the vicinity. No personal belongings, backpacks, cameras.”
“An interesting detail,”
Dr. King added.
“The male skeleton has trauma marks on the neck that are inconsistent with hanging. It looks like a blunt force trauma.”
“Was he unconscious when he was hanged?”
The young officer asked.
“Either stunned or dead,”
King confirmed.
“There are no such marks on the female skeleton.”
Evan Drake visibly tensed.
“So, she could have seen her boyfriend being hanged or vice versa.”
The doctor shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s a question of sequence of events. Laboratory tests will give the answer.”
Meanwhile, one of the forensic scientists approached the group holding a transparent bag of evidence.
“Found this 20 yards away under some leaves,”
he said, pointing to a water bottle.
“Colorado Springs label. Old but not 5 years old. 3 or 4 months old at most.”
Another fact that did not fit into the overall picture. Who was in this remote place a few months before Eliza Reynolds found the bodies? The climbing carbine with the blue ribbon also raised questions. It was thoroughly examined by experts who found that it had been installed no more than 6 months ago. The paint on the metal was still relatively fresh.
“Someone wanted the bodies found,”
Drake concluded.
“But who and why now? 5 years later.”
At 12:00, the bodies were carefully packed in special bags and transferred to a helicopter. They were sent to the morgue in Colorado Springs for a full forensic examination. Investigator Drake remained on the scene. He personally examined the carbine that Eliza had found between the rocks.
“It’s strange,”
he said to his assistant, Detective Ryan Foster.
“Why would the killer hang them in such a prominent place? He could have just killed them and hidden them deeper in the woods where they would never be found.”
“Maybe it’s a warning,”
Foster suggested.
“You know how they used to hang pirates at the entrance to a harbor in the old days for others to see?”
Drake nodded thoughtfully, looking at the area around him. His gaze settled on a rocky outcropping overhanging the hollow.
“That ledge overlooks the entire tract,”
he said.
“An ideal vantage point for observation. Perhaps the killer wanted to admire his work.”
The four officers immediately set off for the cliff. It took them almost an hour to climb, but their efforts paid off. On a small platform at the top of the ledge, they found traces of a camp: stones blackened by fire, energy bar wrappers, and several cigarette butts.
“The footprints are old,”
the forensic scientist said over the radio,
“but not 5 years old. I’d say 2 or 3 years old at most. Someone has been visiting this place regularly.”
The discovery confirmed a chilling theory. The killer had returned to watch his victims. Perhaps he had sat on this rock many times looking at the bodies swaying in the wind.
At 18:30, a message came from the lab. Dental records confirmed the victims’ identities as Aldrich Wayne and Ara Marorrow.
“Notify the families,”
Sheriff Caldwell ordered.
“But don’t give them any details. Just tell them their children have been found.”
At 20:10, private investigator Michael Thornton arrived at the crime scene. He had been searching for 5 years. Evan Drake met him on the lawn.
“I knew we’d find them,”
Thornton said in a low voice.
“But not like this. Not like this.”
He told the investigators about his findings during the 5 years of searching: about illegal loggers, about a strange hermit named Gordy, and about his guesses that had no proof.
“It all makes sense now,”
Drake said after listening to the story.
“We’re looking for someone who knows the forest well, who could have dragged two bodies up a tree, and who has a reason to kill tourists.”
The search at the crime scene lasted until late at night. Powerful searchlights illuminated the tract. Several times, the officers thought they were being watched from the forest, but checks revealed nothing.
At 2:00 in the morning, the preliminary medical report came back.
“Aldrich Wayne died of a skull injury,”
Dr. King said over the phone.
“A severe blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Ara Marorrow died of asphyxiation. But there’s something else. She was pregnant.”
This news shocked everyone present. The tragedy took on an even more horrific dimension. Not two, but three innocent people had died.
“How far along?”
asked Drake in a hoarse voice.
“About 14 weeks,”
the doctor replied.
“They probably didn’t know it yet.”
On the morning of May 20th, the search at the crime scene continued with renewed vigor. By lunchtime, the forensic experts had completed the collection of all possible evidence. The team returned to headquarters in the city.
Investigator Drake opened the old case of the disappearance. He flipped through the yellowed pages.
“Gordy Kovatch,”
he read the name in the private detective’s notes.
“A hermit who hates tourists.”
This was the first serious clue.
The dawn of May 20, 2019 found the Wesvil Sheriff’s Office in a state of full mobilization.
“We are now officially opening a double homicide investigation,”
Sheriff Caldwell announced at 8:00 in the morning.
Drake stood up and walked over to the makeshift crime board.
“We know what happened,”
he began, pointing to the timeline.
“On June 15th, 2014, Aldrich Wayne and Ara Marorrow went hiking. Their last known GPS tracker entry is at 13:20. They were approximately 4 miles from the trail head. Apparently, at that point, they encountered someone who either forced them to change their route or attacked them. It’s 12 miles in a straight line from this point to the tract where the bodies were found, but there is no straight path there. The real path is at least 20 miles.”
Drake paused.
“Now, the most important question is: who did this? And why did they leave a sign for the bodies to be found 5 years later?”
Detective Ryan Foster raised his hand.
“Do we have any leads from the previous investigation?”
Drake opened an old file folder.
“The private investigator has done a great job. Here it is: ‘A tall man with a graying beard dressed in camouflage came out from behind the trees and began yelling at us to get off his property. He waved his arms and threatened that next time he would meet us with a gun.’ The locals said his name was Gordy.”
Drake closed the folder.
“Our first suspect is a man named Gordy Kovatch. He lives on the outskirts of Florence.”
At 9:33, police cars pulled up to a small trailer park.
“Police! Gordy Kovatch, open up!”
Drake shouted at 9:42. There was no answer. The officers broke in, but the trailer was empty. Fresh food was in the refrigerator.
“Search everything. We have a warrant.”
In a small shed behind the trailer, they found a coil of synthetic rope identical to the one found around the victims’ necks.
“Bingo,”
Foster said quietly.
“We have physical evidence.”
A neighbor, an elderly woman named Martha Jenkins, walked over.
“Looking for Gordy? He left yesterday as usual. He goes to the mountains for a week every month. He says he hunts, but he always comes back empty-handed.”
“How long have you known Mr. Kovatch?”
“Oh, about 10 years. He’s a strange man, but quiet. Although there was a time about 5 years ago when he was acting really strange. It was in the summer of 2014. Nervous. He was always watching the news. And then he brought some backpacks, expensive touristy ones.”
“Do you recognize these backpacks?”
Drake showed her photos of the gear Aldrich and Ara had used.
“Something similar,”
Martha answered.
“It’s been a long time, but the color is the same—red and blue.”
At 12:30, an emergency meeting was called. Drake reported on the findings.
“We have enough for an arrest warrant. But first, we need to find him.”
Then one of the senior officers, Tom Harrison, spoke up.
“There is one problem. Gordy Kovatch had knee surgery in May 2014. We have medical records. He was in rehabilitation until the end of July. Physically, he could not walk 20 miles over rough terrain in June.”
This news puzzled everyone. If Kovatch was unable to walk, how did he deliver the bodies to the tract?
“Maybe he wasn’t acting alone,”
Foster suggested.
At 14:00, a technician from the lab arrived.
“We found microparticles of nickel ore in the soil around the tree.”
Eliza Reynolds was invited for a consultation. She studied the data.
“This type of ore only occurs in a few places. The closest is the old Silver Wind Mine about 2 miles from Stone Claw. It was closed in the 70s.”
This opened a new line of inquiry. At 16:00, a new report came from the lab. DNA analysis of the rope revealed biological material from a man. They compared it to the database where Kovatch was listed.
“It doesn’t match,”
the technician said.
At 20:30, Drake received a call.
“The suspect has returned home. What should we do?”
“Take him in, but be careful,”
Drake ordered.
The arrest went off without incident. Gordy Kovatch sat down in the interrogation room.
“I knew you’d come one day,”
he said.
“But I didn’t kill those kids.”
“Tell me what happened on June 15th, 2014,”
Drake asked.
“I did not see them alive. I had just left the hospital after surgery, but I know who did it. The man they call Forester. His real name is William Baker. He was in charge of illegal logging at the time and had a camp in the old quarry.”
“Why did you keep quiet for 5 years?”
“I was afraid,”
Kovatch replied simply.
“He’s crazy. But a week ago, I found a mark in the woods, a carbine with a blue ribbon. This is his mark. He wanted the bodies to be found, and I realized that he was no longer afraid of me.”
“Where can we find this William Baker?”
“In the quarry. He’s been living there for years in the old adit.”
“Why did he kill those tourists?”
“They saw something they weren’t supposed to see,”
Kovatch replied grimly.
“Baker doesn’t just cut down the forest. He’s growing marijuana in those isolated valleys. And if someone stumbles across his plantations…”
At 23:50, Drake finished his interrogation. Kovatch was placed under arrest for complicity. Drake called an emergency meeting.
“We’re leaving at dawn. We’ll take him in the quarry, but be prepared. A man who killed two tourists and watched their bodies for 5 years is very dangerous.”
At 5:00 in the morning on May 21st, eight police cars set off.
“The quarry has two entrances,”
Drake explained over the radio.
“Two groups will block both exits simultaneously.”
At 6:30, both groups reached their positions.
“Police, come out with your hands up!”
Drake shouted. There was no response. The officers entered the dark adit. The smell of dampness and marijuana hit them.
“He was here,”
whispered one officer, shining his flashlight on still-warm ashes.
In the depths, they found a living space: a cot, a stove, and a shelf of canned food. On the wall hung a detailed topographic map with several red marker marks.
“Look at this. This is exactly where the bodies were found.”
Drake carefully removed the map.
“Perhaps the killer wanted to admire his work.”
In the far corner, they found a notebook with a worn leather cover.
“Today, two people walked along the upper path. They didn’t see me. The guy was taking pictures of rocks. The girl was collecting stones. They will be back soon,”
read the entry dated June 13th, 2014. And then on June 15th:
“They are back. The guy was taking pictures of my hiding place. They were not supposed to see it. No one else will know about this place.”
The last entry dated May 18, 2019 was short:
“5 years—time to let them go. Left a sign.”
At 8:00 in the morning, Drake called Eliza Reynolds.
“We need your help as a geologist.”
“Interesting,”
she said, looking at the ore samples.
“Only one vein in the quarry has this composition: the north adit.”
“So, our suspect has been taking the same route all along,”
Drake realized.
“How often do you think?”
“Judging by the concentration of particles, at least once a month for several years.”
“There’s something else,”
Eliza added.
“I found seeds of a plant near the bodies: ‘Datura stramonium’—common dope. It is a hallucinogen.”
Noon on May 21st. The search team returned to the quarry with reinforcements. William Baker had disappeared.
“He knew we were coming,”
Drake said.
“The question is why he left the evidence.”
In the northern adit, experts found boxes of ammunition, medical supplies, and most importantly, a metal box with Aldrich and Ara’s personal belongings.
“There’s their phones, their camera, their wallets.”
“He’s not just a killer,”
Drake said quietly.
“He’s a man who’s completely out of touch with reality. Send his picture to all the services, but it’s unlikely they’ll catch him. A man who lived 5 years invisible to the whole world will disappear completely.”
2 days later, the bodies of Aldrich and Ara were handed over to their families. The case was officially closed as solved, although the killer was never caught.
“He left a sign and a confession because he knew he wouldn’t be found,”
Drake said at the final meeting.
The Silver Wind Quarry was sealed with concrete blocks. The spruce tree on which the bodies had been hanging for 5 years was cut down. But even now, many years later, locals try to avoid the Stone Claw tract. Some places in the Colorado mountains are forever branded with terrible secrets that the forest is in no hurry to reveal.
