by Unknown
Chandler asked, “How’d they get in, do you know yet?”
Nodding, Keira said, “They must have used the skid path a couple of miles north of here. There are two sets of prints leading away from the vehicle. One set returning.” She saw Gomez’s gaze go to the logging road they were standing beside. “The treads here were made by the person who found him. You would have seen his car back where you parked. We’ll put out a media alert, but he was discovered at about five-thirty this morning. Finding more witnesses is doubtful.”
They’d take a cast of the tire tread, but discovering the vehicle that had made it seemed a long shot. It wouldn’t be difficult to match the footprints leading into the forest. Yembley’s had been identified yesterday. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the other set would be the same as the tracks of the man who’d broken into her home. She led the group toward where Finn was working. He looked up at their approach.
“Jesus.” Beau slapped a hand over his mouth, but his eyes remained fixated on the bloody body. “Is that…was he...?”
“For lack of a better word, the victim was scalped.”
The forester looked once, then swallowed and averted his gaze. Even Gomez was looking a bit green, Keira noted. Which made her feel less embarrassed about the queasiness that had reappeared in her stomach.
“Rather an expert job done of it, too.” Finn stood, placing himself between them and the body. She knew intuitively that he was protecting the scene. Regardless of the distance he’d put between him and his former career, the man was still a forensic pathologist at heart. “That act occurred post-mortem. I suspect the cause of death will be attributed to a bullet in his back.”
“He was killed here.”
Although she hadn’t phrased it as a question, Finn nodded. “There’s a large blood spill beneath the body. The bullet would have damaged his spinal cord, making further movement impossible. I found a blood-soaked bandage on his right side with another wound, covering a puncture mark. It would have required medical attention, but didn’t receive any. That occurred perimortem, but probably only a matter of hours before he died. That’s about all I can tell without getting him to a morgue.”
“Any idea of time of death?”
He looked pained at her question. “I don’t have a body thermometer, and I’d need to do calculations taking into consideration outside temps, humidity, precipitation…plus the snow would lower body temperature quickly. Without undressing him, I can’t fully assess the stage of rigor. And we don’t know how long he was outdoors prior to being killed. But best guess…maybe sometime between ten pm and four am this morning.”
Gomez caught Keira’s eye, and they turned to walk several feet away. Stevens followed. “Is this victim related to the murder investigation being run out of your office?” the sergeant asked.
The men would have received the law enforcement memo she’d sent out yesterday, given their positions in local criminal justice agencies. “He’s connected, but I’m just not quite sure how yet. Not only was he the shooter from the other night, but he used Danny’s weapon.”
Shock flickered in Stevens’ expression. “The one that was missing from your father’s crime scene?” He mulled that over for a moment. “Maybe this victim ended up on the wrong side of the killer you’re hunting.”
Keira’s voice was grim. “That seems certain.”
Gomez blew out a breath. It hung in the air like a dragon’s expelled smoke. “This kill site means your case just became the subject of a multi-agency task force. We’ll need to be brought up to speed quickly. A full summary of your investigation so far would be helpful.”
After promising to get copies to both men, she walked back for a private word with Finn. He was photographing the body with a camera he must have gotten from the evidence van.
“The knife marks on the scalp…” she started.
“…and the one in his side, yes.” He lowered the camera to look at her. “There should be comparisons made to the weapon marks on the second victim’s ear.”
“The ME doesn’t have that sort of experience. He’s a general practitioner that works for the Department of Health.” She paused, thinking furiously. “I can probably figure out a way to get you invited to the autopsy.” Being employed by Raiker’s agency should throw a lot of weight in Finn’s favor, but there were always territorial factors to consider. “Having Yembley killed on federal property complicates things. But I’d really like you to do the comparison examination.”
He nodded. “There’s something I didn’t mention in front of the others.” At her look he shrugged. “This may be a fact you don’t want generally known. In addition to the scalping, there’s another injury the victim suffered post-mortem. He was castrated.”
Keira gave a low whistle. “He really pissed someone off.”
“And I think we can guess whom, even before we cast those footprints. I can even hazard a prediction as to why.”
A shiver worked down her spine. One that had nothing to do with the outdoor temperature. “Maybe Yembley trying to kill me threatened whatever game the offender is playing.”
Finn’s expression was fierce. “Which means the killer will try to engage you again in some way. Sooner, rather than later. You go nowhere alone, understood? If I’m not with you, someone else is. Every minute.”
The words would have annoyed her even a day earlier. But last night changed things. She could understand the more personal concern underlying the professional because she felt the same way about him. But the reality was, manpower was limited. Finally, she conceded, “No unnecessary risks. For either of us.”
He would have liked to say more. She could see it in his expression, but her radio went off.
“Did a drive by of your property, Sheriff.” There was a slight shakiness to Brody’s tone that had her senses heightening. “Saw the lid to your mailbox was open and something hanging out of it. Got up close enough to take a look. You’re going to want to come and check this out yourself. At first, I thought it was a dead animal, but…”
She raised her gaze. Met Finn’s. And knew they’d both reached the same conclusion. The killer had wasted no time making his next move.
_______
“What the hell is it, Sheriff?”
Keira didn’t look up from her task. “Brody, I’m not going to think any less of you if you puke. But if you hurl in the evidence room I will do you serious bodily harm.”
“I’m not. I won’t.”
“Good.” She used tweezers to pick up the note that had been lying on top of the box, before utilizing the sterile forceps to grip the bloody object with her other hand and lift it far enough out of the carton to look beneath it. Satisfied that there was nothing else inside, she gently replaced the item and carried the note to a clean sheet of paper. Rules of evidence collection would say a paper item could be enclosed in plastic, but she couldn’t be sure whether the blood smearing it was transfer stains or a bloodstain. Hence, she’d play it safe.
“That looks…human.”
She glanced at the young deputy who appeared a bit sick. His work for the department was primarily patrol and the sight in the box would be enough to turn anyone’s stomach. “The victim they found in the forest today? Yembley? He’d been scalped. I think we’ll discover that this came from his body.”
Placing the carton in the refrigerator, Keira returned her attention to the note.
Come and get me.
Four words, and those written in a rounded, girlish handwriting. Some sort of flourish was used above the d and the t. Two humps over each, like unfinished m’s. She and Finn had both expected the offender to reach out again. This was the most direct method yet.
The paper was thick and glossy, like the type for running off pictures. The writing was done with a black fine point marker. And, Keira peered closer, there was a hair stuck to the note. Not from Yembley’s scalp. This was so light she hadn’t noticed it at first. Picking up the tweezers again, she attempted to grasp it b
ut it didn’t loosen. Instead, she turned the note over and stared, comprehension slamming into her with the force of a truck.
Strands of blond hair were twisted into a tight curl and taped to the back of the sheet. Although there might be others with hair that shade, mostly small children, Keira’s mind sprang immediately to one. She turned the paper over again. The writing didn’t look male. But could her friend have written it? A bit frantically, Keira had to admit she didn’t know. The only handwriting she’d seen of Tiffany’s in recent years was on an order pad at the restaurant, and that wasn’t enough for her to be sure.
She reached for her phone even as Colton, her part-time weekend dispatcher, poked his head in. “Everyone else is still out at the forest. I’ve got a burglary report in Chatham. Do you want me to radio Mary or Hank?”
“No, Brody will take it.” The deputy looked reluctant, but headed out of the room, speaking with Colton as they walked away together. Keira called Tiffany’s phone again. It went right to voice mail. She hung up and stared at the note.
It was a leap to think that somehow her friend had gotten drawn into this. The victims so far had all had some sort of connection, at least loosely, to outdoor sports. Tiff skied, but otherwise considered the outdoors a necessary evil to be traversed only when she was moving from one heated structure to the next. And she was a woman. She didn’t fit the killer’s profile.
Keira quickly folded the sheet of paper over the note and placed it in a large envelope, before securing it in the evidence locker. And then she headed toward the front door of the offices for her coat and boots. She had to find Tiffany. That was the only way she could lay to rest the fear coursing through her that her friend was in the hands of a madman.
_______
“But this was her weekend off.” Keira stared at Eldon Diznoff, who she’d awakened at his home. It was barely eight am and the man looked like he felt every bit as bad as he’d claimed.
“There’s nothing I could do; I had to call her in.” He wore a ratty bathrobe over his flannel pajama bottoms and a tee shirt. The robe wouldn’t have fastened over his protruding belly. “She knows I wouldn’t do that if there was any other way. But some of the other workers had the same bug I did. I heard she closed early Friday night. Midnight, Lonny said.” Lonny was a bartender, Keira recalled. “I figured maybe she got sick, too. ’Cuz she never answered the phone all day yesterday when I wanted her to go in again. We didn’t open at all. Without her, I didn’t have enough people to run it. She’s not answering today. We’ll have to stay closed.”
“Did she give Lonny a reason for shutting down Friday?”
He shrugged and coughed into a ham-sized fist. “He says not. That loser probably wanted to get out of there to go bang his girlfriend. He claims it wasn’t busy. I call BS. It’s always crazy on Fridays.”
Turning back toward her car, Keira strove to keep her earlier trepidation from blooming into full-blown panic. Diz’s place had been on the way, which was the only reason she’d stopped there first. Tiffany lived in a walk up over a quilting shop near the clinic. That was her next stop.
No one responded to her knock. As far as she knew, she was the only one with a spare key to Tiffany’s apartment. The woman didn’t trust her mother with one. Rhonda Andrews had taking ways and if she could find something to sell she would.
The place was quiet. Eerily so. And cold. Tiff kept it toasty when she was home, but each time she left she turned the heat way down. Keira walked to the wall-mounted thermostat in the tiny living room. Sixty-two.
It was an odd experience to be in her friend’s home when she wasn’t there. She checked the bedroom. The bed looked undisturbed. She crossed to the closet and opened it. And her stomach plummeted.
Tiffany’s large pink striped overnight bag was sitting on a shelf. So was her black suitcase. Keira scanned the hangers and saw no spaces that looked like clothes had been removed. Turning, she went to the minuscule hallway closet and yanked the door open. Tiff’s ski boots sat inside. Her ski jacket and pants were hung neatly on hooks lining the back wall. Wherever the woman had gone, it hadn’t been Powderhorn, unless she’d planned to rent her equipment.
And leave without packing a bag.
_______
“Probably shacked up with some loser.” Since Keira didn’t think Rhonda Andrews could be drunk this early in the morning, she decided the effects contributing to the woman’s sway and slurred words were a leftover from last night. Tiffany’s mother took a deep drag from her cigarette and squinted at Keira through the smoke. “She does that, you know. Finds some bum and goes off with him until he dumps her and she has to come crawling back.”
“No,” she said pointedly, wanting to reach for the woman’s saggy neck. “She doesn’t. And Tiff’s responsible about her job. She wouldn’t just take off knowing Diz was having trouble. At least not without telling him.”
“You think you know her so well.” Rhonda pointed the cigarette at Keira. “You don’t know shit. She went somewhere to have a good time and she doesn’t give a damn that we’re all worried about her.”
With a tight smile, she said, “You do look worried. If you hear from her, please call the office.” She turned and went down the listing porch steps.
“Think I don’t care about my kid?” the woman hollered through the torn screen door. “Think I don’t know her? I know her better than you could. Nosy bitch. You’re just like your old man. He was always poking his nose in.” The woman was loud enough to have people peeking out the windows of the neighboring trailers. Keira ignored them and the words Rhonda hurled after her. She’d go back to Tiff’s place. Talk to the neighbors. Call the owner of the quilt shop beneath the apartment.
But the knot in her chest came from the growing certainty that her efforts would be in vain. She didn’t know where Tiffany was. But she was becoming more and more afraid that the woman hadn’t left of her own volition.
_______
“But you can’t be sure whether this is her handwriting.” Finn had retrieved his glasses to look over the evidence. Despite his words, the curl taped to the back of the paper was damning, indeed. He’d only seen Keira’s friend the one time, but her pale blond hair was unmistakable.
“No. I could get a DNA sample from her house. Her toothbrush.” Because that, too, had still been in the apartment. “You could compare the sample to one taken from her hair.”
“Right now I’d rather have her toothbrush or other item only she would have used, for elimination fingerprints. See this?” He held a magnifying glass she’d found for him in the evidence room over the note.
“Looks like a thumbprint.”
“Likely is.” He picked up a sheet of printer paper and mimed handing it to her, his thumb near a top corner, his index finger crooked beneath. “There are other prints on the paper, too. This surface is perfect for pictures or markers, and great for latents. The tape on the message should also be checked. I’d recommend prints as a first test.”
“Tiff has a handheld mirror with a mother of pearl back that belonged to her grandmother. She probably uses it daily.”
He nodded. “Bring that to the lab. But Keira…” Finn could see the hope bloom on her face. Hated that it was mingled with worry. She’d face danger herself with far greater equanimity than she would consider a threat to her friend. “At the risk of eliciting another less than enthusiastic outburst like yesterday, I need to make it clear that I’m not a fingerprint examiner.” Once prints were taken, they could be inputted into databases, but the process was nothing like TV routinely showed. The systems came up with several possible matches, which often then had to be examined by a qualified expert for a more detailed analysis.
“But you ran the latents taken from my house.”
“I submitted them to an examiner at Raiker’s lab facility. It’s Sunday. I can’t make any promises about how quickly I can get results.”
She hauled in a breath. “That thumbprint might belong to the killer.”
&n
bsp; “Let’s hope. AFIT is a lot more inclusive than IAFIS. Faster, too.” The FBI’s replacement for IAFIS, the national fingerprint database, would have criminal, military, and millions of civilian prints on record. He was confident he could have possible sets of matching prints an hour and a half after submission. He was less certain that the results wouldn’t require verification.
“AFIT not only has improved accuracy, it supposedly reduces the number of manual fingerprint reviews required.” Despite his trying to temper her expectations, hope was evident in her tone. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
His gaze fell to the blond hair fastened to the note. If Tiffany Andrews was in the hands of the killer, the woman was going to need far more than luck on her side.
_______
After checking with every one of Tiffany’s friends that she knew, Keira’s next move was to call the Big Powderhorn Resort and the neighboring motels and lodges. The ski resort was in Gogebic County, between Bessemer and Ironwood. It was one of the last places Tiff had mentioned to her. And Keira still harbored a fragile hope the woman had taken an impulsive ski trip.
Logic had a way of shredding that possibility. Tiff had left her belongings and ski clothes at home. More tellingly, her phone charger hadn’t been in her apartment, because it was her habit to carry it in her purse. Stoically, Keira went through the motions the same way she did with any missing persons case. By checking all leads.
Two hours later she admitted defeat. There were plenty of places to stay in the Big Powderhorn area, especially with the resort as full as it was now. But none of those she called reported having a Tiffany Andrews registered. If the woman was there, she was staying with someone else under his or her name.
Worry nagged at her, but there wasn’t more she could do right now. Keira went back to her spreadsheets. When Finn had come in yesterday, she’d finished a painstaking construction of DNR hunting and fishing violations, going back five years. Hank and Finn had started the process; she’d just completed it. She’d highlighted names that also appeared on the list of people with a grudge against Danny. And now she began eliminating those on both lists who’d been locked up during Danny’s murder, or Atwood’s. The record was still depressingly long, but far shorter than the one she’d made after her dad’s death. She prioritized the other names and decided tomorrow their next step would be to divvy them up and interview the individuals included.
