“Brandon always carried a spare jacket in his truck,” I said softly.

“I know he did,” Austin agreed quietly.

“He was wearing his dark green fleece jacket over a gray wool sweater that day,” I recalled vividly.

Austin nodded solemnly.

“I found the gray wool sweater on the floor of the wreckage, but his green fleece jacket was gone.”

The terrifying pieces of the puzzle began to fit together in my mind, forming a clearer picture of that night.

Brandon had pulled over near the shoulder and stepped out to investigate suspicious activity on the service trail.