“I’d like that. But you’re going to have to start calling me Ellie.”
Releasing me, he climbed back into his vehicle. “See you around, Ellie,” he said, flashing me one last smile.
***
“You never told me why you chose this particular location for your research facility,” I said to Cooper as we were nearing Carnival Cove, the former water park with the unfortunate clown theme.
For as long as I could remember, I’d been scared to death of clowns. It was an issue I for some reason could never overcome. Even though I knew there was nothing to be afraid of, I was apprehensive about touring the future location of the body farm. I felt silly for letting it bother me. After all, it was broad daylight, and Cooper and I would be the only people there.
He shrugged. “The location is ideal, and the price was right. Plus, there are enclosed buildings, pools, sheltered areas, and wide-open spaces—basically any type of physical circumstances you can imagine. For example, we can study how a specimen decomposes on a paved area versus a grassy area, or in a body of water versus dry ground. The possibilities are endless.”
He had a point, but I still didn’t like it. I had decided we would have to tear down and cart away every clown statue, mural, and sign in the entire park if I were going to be able to go out there on a regular basis—especially after dark.
When we pulled up to the entrance to the park, Cooper pounded his fist on the steering wheel. “Damn it!”
That sort of outburst was unlike him, so I followed his gaze to see what he was upset about. On the “Welcome to Carnival Cove” sign next to the front gate, someone had written “Death to the Body Farm” in what looked like blood. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was responsible.
“I see our favorite students have struck again,” I muttered, getting out of the car.
Cooper slammed his door. “This is an outrage! I’m calling the police this time. This is vandalism, and someone is going to answer for it.” He got out his cell phone and tapped angrily at the screen.
I walked over to the sign for a closer look. The message in blood appeared to me to have been finger-painted. The chain lock on the gate had been cut, and the gate was standing open a couple of inches. I studied the bars on the gate and was delighted to find several partial fingerprints in the blood. Pushing the gate open with my sleeve, I continued my inspection on the back side of the gate. And there it was. A perfect, complete, unsmudged fingerprint—a patent print made in blood. I got out my phone and snapped a close-up photo of the print and also a wider shot of the gate to show the location of the print. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement at the opportunity to poke around at an actual crime scene. The mock scenes I fabricated for my classes weren’t nearly as interesting as the real deal.
Cooper finished his call and stomped over to me. “The police are on their way. I don’t understand this, Ellie. I don’t know why we’re being targeted so harshly. Isn’t protesting enough?”
“Who knows?” I replied, itching to get inside and search for more evidence. “It looks like someone broke the lock. We should see if there’s any more damage inside.”
Exasperated, he pushed past me and entered the park. I followed. I hadn’t been here since I was a teenager, shortly before it closed. The place was an absolute disaster. Anything that hadn’t been nailed down was either broken or missing—metal picnic tables were overturned and rusting, and beach chairs that once had been lined up in neat rows were threadbare and mangled, scattered haphazardly across the ground. Tufts of crabgrass grew out of every crack in the pavement all over the park, and heaps of fallen, dried leaves congregated in every corner. Vines were overtaking the graffiti-tagged waterslides like parasites. Disfigured clown faces grinned evilly down at me from crumbling statues and peeling signs.
Shuddering, I hurried to catch up with Cooper. He was staring at one of the former snack bars, which now said “Dr. Death Sucks” across the front of it.
“Oh, Coop, don’t get bent out of shape. I think a visit from the police is all these kids need to scare them into leaving us alone.”
“It better be,” he growled.
A sudden gust of wind caused the leaves to swirl around us, and I caught a whiff of a pungent aroma I hadn’t smelled for a long time. “Do you smell that?” I asked.
Cooper sniffed the air. “Smell what?”
As I started walking in the direction from which the wind had come, the odor became more pronounced. “Over here,” I said. “Stand here and take a breath.”
He did as I instructed and made a face. “It smells like the facility already has its first guest.”
“It’s probably some poor animal that crawled in here to die.”
Judging from the odor, it wasn’t a small animal, which meant it would need to be removed for our safety before we did much more out here. Working with relatively healthy decomposing human cadavers was one thing, but decomposing animal carcasses were another story. They could carry disease and pose serious health threats. I switched to breathing through my mouth and kept walking in the direction of the stench until it was nearly unbearable, but still didn’t see anything.
I turned around when I heard Cooper muttering. He was several yards away, losing his cool over yet another bit of vandalism he had found. I soldiered on, determined to find the source. Once I rounded the corner into the “Kiddie Land” section, I found it.
Lying flat on her back in a shallow wading pool was Vasti Marais.
CHAPTER THREE
I let out a slow breath. I hadn’t been to a real crime scene in three years. A few minutes ago, I’d been thrilled about searching for evidence as to who had vandalized the park. But faced with a serious crime, a murder no less, my glee evaporated in an instant.
Vasti was lying face up in a pool of her own blood and bodily waste. The front of her yellow tank top was saturated with blood that had flowed out of what appeared to be two gunshot wounds to her torso. Her dark skin had taken on a purplish cast. Blowflies buzzed around her, greedily feeding and depositing their eggs in the moist openings of her face and wounds. The bright, commanding personality that had defined her in life was heartbreakingly absent in death. She lay there staring straight up at the sky with dead eyes that would never regain their vibrant sparkle.
I shuddered at the thought of her young life being cut short by such a violent and tragic death. Before I started getting emotional, I shoved my feelings aside and put my head into criminalist mode, a practice that had saved my sanity during many of my tougher crime scene investigations. I concentrated on the science of the situation to disconnect from the gruesome reality.
I had seen Vasti around 7:30 PM the previous night, so she couldn’t have been dead more than sixteen or seventeen hours. I was somewhat surprised that the odor of death was already so strong, but several factors were contributing to a speed-up in the decomposition process. Although it was September, the weather had been unseasonably hot, reaching the mid-nineties by day and only dipping into the upper seventies at night. Central Indiana was always high in humidity in the warmer months as well. Between the weather conditions and the body lying in full sunlight, the bacteria inside the body were nice and warm and hard at work. On top of that, her fresh wounds created an attractive place for insects to start their jobs. An open-casket viewing was out of the question at this point.
I wondered who would have done this to her. There were several bloody shoeprints around the body, which could be of help to the police. From eyeballing it, I guessed that the print had been made by a man’s shoe, medium-sized, around a size ten or so. The diamond-shaped tread pattern looked like that of a Converse, which was a popular brand of shoe. The prints could belong to the killer, or they could belong to someone who had been here with Vasti. If I were investigating this, I’d start with my pig blood–throwing friend from last night. I didn’t happen to notice his shoes, but judging from his hipster-type appearance, I would be willing to bet he had a pair or two of Convers
e sneakers in his closet. Converse wasn’t exactly an uncommon brand among college students, though, so maybe the shoeprint didn’t narrow anything down.
I plucked my phone out of my pocket and called dispatch, explaining to them what I’d found. After I was done, I went in search of Cooper. He wasn’t going to take the news well. I found him snapping photos of the vandalism.
“Coop,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Yes,” he replied, keeping his attention on his photography.
He was going to blow a gasket over this situation. The police would close off the park for days while their investigation took place. With the property being in Cooper’s name, he would be investigated simply because of procedure. It was difficult to imagine how the student protestors would react to Vasti’s death. Would they be too devastated to continue their protesting, or would this news incite a riot? I felt as if I held Pandora’s box in my hands. Everything was calm now, but as soon as the box was opened, all hell would break loose.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I walked over to Cooper and stood in front of him. “That odor we smelled is human. There’s a dead body in the park.”
His face turned bright red. “WHAT?” he exploded. “If this is some sick joke, Ellie…”
“I wish it were. Cooper…it’s Vasti Marais. She’s been shot.”
Cooper’s jaw went slack and his phone clattered to the ground. “Are you…are you sure?” he choked out as he stumbled back from me, his face contorted in pain and despair. “Not her…” he whispered to himself. Dropping to his knees, he put his head in his hands.
This was not the reaction I was expecting. Of course I expected him to be upset, but I didn’t expect him to be sobbing over the loss of a student he barely knew. Not that her passing wasn’t tragic and heartbreaking, but this spectacular show of grief, in my experience, was usually reserved for family members and close friends. As a business major, Vasti probably hadn’t taken any classes from Cooper. I had never spoken to the girl before last night, only knowing her by her formidable reputation.
I put my hand on his shoulder and said gently, “I didn’t realize you knew her that well.”
Taking several deep breaths, he tried to control himself. “I…she… I was the…faculty advisor last year for…for the Student Leadership Council…” He broke down again. Vasti had been a part of the Student Leadership Council her entire college career. That explained the connection, at least.
I heard the crunch of gravel as a vehicle pulled up near the entrance to the park. It was likely a deputy out on patrol responding to the vandalism call. The homicide detectives and crime scene unit wouldn’t be here for a while. The park was at the far west end of Hamilton County, and they’d have to drive all the way from the sheriff’s office in Noblesville.
“Cooper, we should probably compose ourselves here. I think the police may have just arrived,” I said.
Sniffling and wiping his eyes, Cooper got up and followed me to the entrance.
A young sheriff’s deputy met us at the gate, his eyes wide. “I’m Deputy Martin. I got a call about some vandalism out here, and then I heard something about a homicide over the radio. Did both of those things happen here?” Judging from his age and reaction, he must have been new to the force. I didn’t recognize him from before.
“Yes, Dr. Cooper called in the vandalism, and while we were assessing the damage, I found the deceased victim,” I explained.
The deputy let out a low whistle. “Okay, well, I’ll get your statement about the vandalism and leave the rest for homicide to deal with.” He got out a small notebook. “Let me get your names…”
We gave him our full names and took him on a quick tour of the vandalized areas. Cooper was still agitated and kept looking over his shoulder toward the entrance to Kiddie Land. After his outburst over the news about Vasti, I didn’t want him to get anywhere near her body. If the news of her death disturbed him that much, he didn’t need to see her like that.
It didn’t take us long to give our statements to Deputy Martin about the vandalism. I also included an account of my pig blood incident from last night since it was likely to be connected to the vandalism. By the time we were finishing up, several police vehicles rolled in.
Since my abrupt departure from the Investigations Division, I hadn’t seen or been in contact with any of my former colleagues except the sheriff herself, a longtime friend and mentor who had been a guest speaker in many of my classes. I felt a bit nervous about seeing some of the others again, knowing that at least a few were of the opinion that I fled to the classroom because I couldn’t hack it in the real world. There was some truth to that, which was probably why it bothered me.
The person I was least interested in seeing got out of his vehicle first: Jason Sterling, homicide detective and all-around asshole. He was good at his job, but cocky as hell. He spotted me immediately. I could have sworn I saw him flexing his pecs as he approached.
“Ellie Matthews! Long time no see,” he drawled, taking off his sunglasses so that he could look me up and down.
“Not long enough, Sterling,” I replied, frowning. Sterling was easy on the eyes—tall, dark, and handsome—but not so easy on my nerves.
“Oh, admit it. You missed me.”
The detective who got out of the passenger side of Sterling’s SUV came up to me and extended his hand. His smile lit up his entire boyish face. “Hi, I’m Nick Baxter, Sterling’s partner. Is this knucklehead giving you trouble?”
“Always,” I said, smiling back at him. Maybe with Detective Baxter around, Sterling wouldn’t give me too much grief. I shook his hand. “Ellie Matthews.”
“You’re kind of a local legend around the department.”
“How so?” I asked, shooting a wary glance at Sterling.
“I hear you can coax a fingerprint off damn near anything.”
“Oh,” I said, relieved I wasn’t legendary for something embarrassing. Sometimes the need to decompress after our tougher cases had led to some wild nights. “Yes, fingerprinting was a specialty of mine.”
“Until she decided she was too good for us and joined the eggheads of that hoity-toity college,” Sterling jeered.
“Are you here to solve a murder or work my last nerve?” I asked him, crossing my arms.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Detective Baxter cover up a smile.
An older man guiding a gurney approached us. It was Dr. Everett Berg, the coroner. “Ellie, my dear,” he greeted me kindly. “Good to see you again. I’ve missed you around the department. No one can get Detective Sterling’s panties in a twist quite like you can.”
Sterling grunted, but otherwise kept quiet.
Grinning, I replied, “Thanks, Doc. I’ve missed you, too.”
“I hear you had the bad fortune of finding a body this time,” he said, his face etched with concern. Dr. Berg was a retired doctor, in need of something to keep him busy after his wife passed. He’d always had a soft spot for me, insisting I was the cosmic twin of his youngest daughter.
“Yes, I’m afraid I did.”
“Lead the way,” he said.
I nodded, heading toward the gate.
Several deputies had arrived with the detectives, and they were working to cordon off and secure the entrance and perimeter of Carnival Cove. One vehicle had been missing from their caravan—the SUV belonging to the crime scene unit. Not that it was surprising that they were running late, especially if Beck Durant was still the head criminalist. He had been my assistant when I was the head criminalist, and he was a total waste of oxygen, at least at a crime scene. He was a decent lab tech, but the best lab tech in the world couldn’t help solve a case if he’d overlooked key evidence at the scene. Unfortunately for Hamilton County, Beck moved up to my job when I quit. I couldn’t imagine he would have suddenly become competent, so Detectives Sterling and Baxter would have their work cut out for them if they wanted to solve this murder based solely on the evidence Beck managed to collect at the scene.
“Whew,” said Sterling, wrinkling his nose. “There’s something dead out here all right.”
“I guess the heat got to her—she’s only been dead for seventeen hours at most. I saw the girl last night around seven thirty,” I said.
He smirked at me. “Was it when you were killing her?”
“No, assclown. I didn’t kill her.”
Detective Baxter, whose face had become pale, threw us an odd glance. When we got to the entrance to Kiddie Land, Dr. Berg and Detective Baxter went in to look at Vasti. Sterling stayed behind to keep me company. Lucky me.
“Aren’t you supposed to be detecting, Detective?” I asked, hoping to get rid of him.
“It’s safer to watch from over here.” He nodded toward Detective Baxter.
Baxter was standing several feet away from Vasti as Dr. Berg kneeled down next to her and began his preliminary examination. The detective’s hand was over his mouth and nose, and he was hunched over, looking unwell.
Sterling said, “He’s gonna puke. He does it every time.”
“A homicide detective who pukes at the sight of a dead body? How does that work? This isn’t even a bad scene, as they go,” I said, thinking Baxter might have been in the wrong line of work.
“Just watch. It’s coming—oh, there he goes.”
Baxter went running for some nearby bushes and vomited into them.
Sterling continued, “And now he’ll be perfectly fine. It’s the damnedest thing.”
Taking out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth, Baxter began to look better instantly. He marched straight back over to Vasti’s body and squatted down beside Dr. Berg like nothing had happened.
Bitter Past Page 3
