Hidden Fire, Kobo

by Terry Odell

  "Where's Kovak?" Randy asked, getting back to business.

  "He and a couple of uniforms are knocking on doors. This place is remote, but the M.E. says this is the crime scene. Someone might have heard or seen something."

  "ID?" Randy asked. "Cause of death? Time? Anything?"

  A woman's voice interrupted. "Based on rigor and lividity, preliminary time of death is probably between eight and midnight yesterday. Most likely killed here, judging from the blood. You'll have the rest as soon as I know, Detweiler."

  "Hi, Doc. Thanks for getting here so quickly." Randy inhaled, exhaled, braced himself, then turned toward the body.

  Charlotte Russell rose. Her lips were narrowed, her brow creased. "Sick bastards." In her late forties, she was almost six feet tall and as strong as most of the men on the force. Fitter than many. She covered the entire county and nobody messed with her—or her bodies. "At least it's a decent hour. It's nice not to get dragged out of bed for a change."

  The stench of death—blood, decomp, and assorted body fluids—was stronger here. He forced his gaze to the naked body lying curled on his side in the dirt. Only the blood-matted hair at the back of its skull gave evidence of violence. That and the fact that it was blood and body fluids, not rain water, that turned the otherwise dry earth to mud around the victim.

  Although the soil soaked up some of the mess, Randy agreed with Charlotte's assessment that the victim had been killed here, not brought in. Not having to find a second crime scene made things easier.

  "Any idea who it is?" Randy asked.

  "You tell me, Detective. You ever seen him before?" She stepped back, giving Randy his first close look at the corpse. She shone her flashlight, better illuminating the man's face. Or what used to be his face.

  His dessert did a quick flip. Randy swallowed at the sight of the bloody pulp. He let his eyes drift to paper bags neatly securing the victim's hands. "No, can't say that I have."

  "Give me a hand turning him," Charlotte said.

  Randy held his breath as he helped position the body on its back. Charlotte moved the light down over his torso. "These cuts are post-mortem. And deep. Like the killer was angry."

  Randy leaned closer at three Xs sliced into the victim's abdomen, above a horizontal line. Curiosity replaced his queasiness. "Ever seen a pattern like that?"

  "No."

  He withdrew his notebook and copied the pattern. "Did Connor get pictures?"

  "Yes, he did. I'll get prints and dental records started. I think there's enough of his lower jaw left, but if you can find any bone fragments, pick them up for me." She waved her flashlight around the area. "If the critters haven't already scattered them, we might get enough to create a sketch. There's also a lot of dirt under his fingernails that doesn't seem to match the terrain. I'll let you know when I'm ready to do the autopsy—or will this be Kovak's case?"

  "I got back in town a few hours ago," he said. "Call either of us—we'll coordinate." Penny Scholnik's serial killer question swam to the front of his brain. "Wait. Did any reporters get back here?"

  Charlotte shook her head and stepped away from the body. "Not while I was here. But no telling what happened before then." She raised her arm and motioned with her fingers. "Let's go, gentlemen." Two uniforms came over with a body bag.

  Randy glanced back to the perimeter of the site. Reporters, both print and television, had gathered behind the tape. He got on his radio. "Brody. They'll be bringing the body out soon. Keep the newshounds behind the line. The victim is a person, not a story."

  "Will do, sir."

  "Did any reporters get to the site and see the body before you secured it?" Randy asked.

  "No, sir. They got here after I did. They tried, but I wouldn't let them through."

  "Very good, Brody." He turned to Charlotte. "Can you pull your van around to that clearing?" He pointed to a spot about twenty-five yards from where they stood. "Kind of like the back door."

  "No problem. I'll go throw the reporters a bone and keep them occupied while we get the body loaded." She pulled off her latex gloves and stowed them in a pocket of her blue jumpsuit.

  "Thanks, Doc." If anyone respected the dead, she did. Until they had an ID on the body, the field was wide open. He set off to find the county deputies. Maybe they had information he could use.

  "Hey, Jim," he said when he found the small cluster of deputies standing outside the tape. "What gets you out from behind your desk?" He'd worked with Jim Eldridge before the man had been promoted to lieutenant, and if things didn't fall in place quickly, he might be needing county help.

  "Randy." The man nodded and stepped away from his colleagues. He lowered his voice. "Looks ugly. Not your typical Pine Hills crime."

  Randy couldn't tell if Eldridge meant he thought the Pine Hills police weren't up to handling a high-profile violent crime, or if he was sincerely offering to help. He decided to go with the latter until there was a reason to think otherwise. If Eldridge wanted to diss his small-town force, he would have done it loud and clear in front of his men. This was no time to get into a pissing contest.

  "Agreed. I'd like to close this one out fast. Anything you have, I'm open to it. Can you get your CSI team out here?"

  "Already called them, at Connor's request, Detweiler. Kovak approved it. Or is this your case?"

  "To be honest, we haven't discussed it. Kovak can have the lead if he wants. Hell, we don't even have an ID yet."

  "Yeah, no face can be a problem. You have any missing persons reports that match?"

  "I've been in 'Frisco for six weeks. Haven't had time to hit the station for updates."

  Eldridge rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll check on my end and let you know. The CSIs should be here soon. Need anything else tonight?"

  Randy hesitated, but homicides in Pine Hills were rare—so rare he could only remember three in his ten years on the force—and none was a premeditated murder. His stomach did a little twist as he remembered being responsible for a shooting death himself. It was justified, since the man he killed was robbing a bank and was going to shoot a hostage, but he'd still taken a life.

  He shook off the memory. "Our guys are out knocking on doors. If you've got any manpower to spare on your side of the line to see if anyone heard something, that would help."

  "Not a problem." Eldridge turned to his men. "Hatch, Frasier—canvass the neighbors on our side of the property. Report directly to Detweiler and keep me apprised of anything you find."

  Two men nodded and peeled off, leaving Eldridge with one other deputy. "All right, Claussen," Eldridge said. "You can get back to work. And I need your nightly reports on my desk by nine tomorrow."

  "Yes, sir," Claussen said.

  After the man left, Eldridge shook his head. "Decent cop, but he hates the paperwork. He's taken twelve calls already tonight. Can't seem to get it through his head that without the reports, he's keeping everyone in a vacuum."

  "I hear you. At least everything's computerized now." He extended his hand. Eldridge's grip was firm with no attempt at one-upmanship.

  Eldridge departed and drove off in the last county car as Kovak's car pulled up. The Pine Hills Police Department's other detective got out and strode toward him. Under the bright lights, his close-cropped blond hair glowed almost pink from the scalp beneath it. He smiled his crooked grin.

  "Glad to see you back, big guy. I didn't expect you until tomorrow."

  "Can't say I'm glad to be here. This is a mess."

  Kovak nodded. "Once I saw the scene, I knew we had an all-hands-on-deck case and called the chief. How'd you get here so fast?"

  "My last case wrapped up early. I was already in town when the chief called me."

  Kovak's gaze swept over Randy. "And from the way you're dressed, he called you away from something. Let me guess. You were having dinner with Sarah. Rob's or Martinelli's?"

  Randy shook his head. "Rob's. I trained you too well, partner."

  "Sorry to cut your evening short."

/>   "Not as sorry as I am." He pushed those regrets aside. "You get anything from the neighbors? Gunshots should have been loud enough."

  "Yeah, right." Kovak thumbed through his notebook. "The usual excuses. Not home, watching television, in the shower. Asleep, thought it was a car backfiring. Kids take pot shots in here all the time, nobody pays much attention. A lot of wild oats sowing, maybe a little grass smoking. 'Kids will be kids' seems to be the attitude."

  "What about the busybodies? There are always a few," Randy said.

  "Of course. They saw suspicious characters lurking last week, last night. Saw someone in the grocery store who looked like a criminal. Might be male, female, black, white, or anything in between." He glanced at his notes again. "Mrs. Crenshaw is positive she saw the latest America's Most Wanted suspect."

  "I'll get back to her. Cars?"

  "Always, but no two said the same thing. Houses are set back from the road and it's not a high-traffic street. We've got a van, SUV or sports car. Maybe a pickup. Or a Corvette. Red, or black, or blue. Going to be impossible to track down."

  But they'd have to try. Thoughts of sleep flew away like a scattered flock of pigeons.

  Connor called out. "Hey, if you two are done with the reunion bit, I could use some help. We have a scene to process. County's sending backup with their fancy gizmos, but no reason we can't make some headway while we wait. For now, our lower tech equipment will have to do."

  "Let me grab a coverall from my truck and I'll be right with you," Randy said.

  "Get my metal detector," Connor said. He tossed Randy a set of keys. "With all the leaves and undergrowth, it's going to be hard to spot a shell casing without it."

  Kovak followed Randy to the edge of the woods where they'd parked. "You want me to go run databases or help with the scene?" he asked.

  "Technically, it's your case," Randy said. He found his kit behind the seat of his truck and pulled out his coveralls. "You got the call out."

  "I've got no problem turning it over. I've got enough to do closing the cases I've worked while you were gone. Nothing like this, of course, but you're the senior detective and I'm happy to let you bask in the glory."

  "Yeah—you mean you don't want to deal with reporters." Randy climbed into the blue jumpsuit and zipped it closed, then got his flashlight from under his seat.

  Kovak grinned. "See—that's why you're the head detective. You've already deduced an important fact."

  "With any luck, we can toss the media to the chief. He's the master of the 'talking without saying anything' hype. But fine, I'll lead. And as leader, I say we work the scene until the county CSIs get here. Maybe we can impress them with an amazing find."

  "You got it. I'll change and get a camera." Kovak headed toward his unmarked unit.

  Randy filled his pockets with evidence bags, hung a camera around his neck, then unlocked Connor's van and retrieved the metal detector. "I'll start where they found the body," he said.

  "I'll see if I can find where they came in," Kovak said. "They didn't beam down into the middle of that copse of trees." He stood at the edge of the property and scratched the top of his head. "This sucks. Twenty-five acres of potential crime scene?" He swept his arm in a broad circle. "Any leaf, twig or rock could have trace on it. We could be here for months."

  Randy took his notebook from a coverall pocket and opened it to a clean sheet. He drew a circle. "Okay, this is the property. The body was found here, about thirty yards in." He marked an X in the circle. "Seems to me, they'd have entered somewhere on this side. Why take the long way around, especially if you've got someone who's not happy to be there? Or, if you've already rendered him unconscious, why carry the dead weight?" He drew two lines in an upside down V with the apex at the body and the wide portion at the edge of the circle. "I'm guessing if there's a point of entry, it's somewhere along here." He tapped the paper on the outside of the arc he'd drawn. "This area is all densely wooded, or covered with undergrowth. I say if there's evidence to be found it'll be in here."

  "Got it," Kovak said. "But it still sucks."

  Randy adjusted the headset over his ears and set off for the point where the body had been discovered. "X marks the spot," he muttered.

  Connor called from the distance. "Detweiler. Over here."

  Chapter Two

  Sarah rushed to the living room and clicked on the television, thumbing the remote for Channel Six, getting a used car dealer from Salem touting his bargains. At the knock on her front door, she crossed the room to the peephole, trying to keep her eye on the screen at the same time.

  "It's me." Maggie's voice came from behind the door.

  Sarah unlocked the door for her neighbor. In her yellow terrycloth robe and slippers, Maggie bustled inside, her red Lucille Ball curls bobbing as she walked.

  "What's on the news?" Sarah asked. "Right now the station is in commercial mode."

  "There was something about a murder and Randy was there."

  Sarah heard "murder" and "Randy" and her heart ricocheted around her chest. "What?"

  "I saw the trailer at the end of the last segment. That new reporter was out in the woods somewhere and she was with Randy. No sound, only that 'stay tuned' nonsense."

  Relief surged through her and Sarah sank to the couch, tugging her nightshirt over her knees. Neither woman spoke while the series of ads for everything from hair products to foot creams played out. When the familiar anchor desk set appeared, Sarah upped the volume.

  "Back to our lead story. A body was discovered on the outskirts of Pine Hills. Channel Six's own Penny Scholnik was on scene. Here is her report."

  The image shifted to a jerky panorama of a wooded expanse, bright lights and lots of police cars. Penny Scholnik looked nervous as she held a microphone to Randy's face and asked about a serial killer.

  "Serial killer?" Sarah gasped. "Here? In Pine Hills?"

  "Shh," Maggie said. "Listen."

  Sarah refocused her attention to Randy. Oh, she'd seen that look, although never from the receiving end. He was furious. Quickly, he rearranged his features into a neutral expression, but his anger at the reporter's question was obvious to Sarah. He was in full-blown cop mode and someone was stepping into his territory.

  Summarily dismissed by Randy's words, Penny Scholnik faded off the screen and the anchorman promised to update viewers as the story unfolded. The broadcast moved on to reports of zoning disputes from Salem, where the news channel was based. Sarah surfed for a minute, but there was nothing more on the Pine Hills story. She switched off the set and stared at the blank screen.

  "What do you think, Maggie?" If anyone could bring a sane and sensible approach to a crisis, it was her retired schoolteacher neighbor.

  "I think little Penny what's-her-name is an obnoxious twit who has no business carrying a microphone, that's what I think."

  "So you don't think there's a serial killer in Pine Hills?" Sarah tossed the remote from hand to hand.

  "Hogwash. You saw Randy's face. Did he look like he was covering anything up?"

  "No. He was pissed. Royally."

  "That he was. I'll believe what the anchorman said. That they found a dead body out in the woods. Period. Nobody even said it was murder, much less a serial killer. The way I see it, if there was anything to worry about, Randy would have called you and told you to bar the door or get out of town."

  Sarah laughed. "Like he did when there was a peeping Tom across the way."

  Maggie stared at her.

  "What?" Sarah asked.

  "Sweetie, I think that's the first time you've laughed at anything related to what happened to you. It looks like you've turned another corner. One of these days, you'll even be able to talk about it for what it was."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Maggie gave her a look that was both stern and compassionate. Her schoolteacher stuff. Or was it surrogate mother, Maggie's self-appointed role in life? "You keep referring to it as your 'little adventure'. Child, you were kidnapp
ed and could have been killed. That's far beyond an adventure."

  "You have your ways to cope, I have mine, Maggie. I'm doing fine."

  Maggie leaned over and crushed Sarah into a bear hug, one it took effort to return. "It's not fast and never easy, but I'm glad to see you're moving forward. How are the nightmares?"

  Much as she loved Maggie, Sarah didn't have the energy to deal with her in mother-hen mode. "No problem," she said, but her tone was curt. She got another look from Maggie, less compassionate this time. "All right," she admitted. "I have them once in a while. But I wish you'd quit bringing it up. It's over, it's done, and Chris is in prison."

  "That he is, thanks to Randy," Maggie said.

  "I guess." Her belly tightened. She dropped her gaze.

  Maggie leaned forward and clutched Sarah's hands. "Oh, my. My, my, my. What happened between you two?"

  She tugged on her nightshirt. "Nothing. I'm just … confused … a little. If we're serious about the relationship, he's going to be called away like tonight all the time. I'm not sure that's what I'm looking for."

  "Sarah Tucker, you listen to me. That man loves you and you love him. End of story."

  "I loved David, too. And his job wasn't dangerous. We ran a boutique. If I let myself feel that much for Randy, what would it be like if I lost him, too? I don't know if I could go through it again."

  Maggie gave Sarah a stare that must have chilled the bones of countless students. "Life has no promises. No guarantees." Her eyes glistened. "Sweetie, if you don't follow your heart, you'll spend your life looking back and wondering what might have been. Trust me, you don't want that. Randy's good for you."

  "Why? You think I need someone to take care of me?" Sarah extracted her hands from Maggie's grip.

  "Of course not. But I do think you're the kind of person who wants to share her life. With a partner, not a caretaker."

  "That's part of the problem. Randy's a cop. He's used to being in charge."

  "Don't be so quick to pigeonhole him," Maggie said. "You've been apart for a while. Sometimes when you're alone, your brain fills the empty places with what you need at the time, not what's good in the long run. Don't make any hasty decisions."