Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3

by Vickie McKeehan

  “A family member would have had to enter theirs.”

  “You already knew that,” said Dawson with a wry smile. “I urge patience because the labs are backed up and sometimes it can take as long as four to eight months for results.”

  Josh looked around the lab at the glum faces. “Let’s hope whoever this is has family out there somewhere who cared enough to submit a swab.”

  Skye spoke up. “It isn’t that, Josh, sometimes the family members just don’t know to do it. Unless they’re a fan of CSI or Criminal Minds, they don’t know they can obtain a kit free of charge specifically for that purpose.”

  “Maybe we could push that to the forefront through the Foundation,” Josh suggested before turning to Dawson. “Any idea how old she was? The victim from the first set of bones?”

  “Young. My guess is between seventeen and twenty,” Dawson answered. “As for DNA from the hand, I’m still working on getting a strong enough sample to profile.”

  “Protocol has changed quite a bit in recent years on how we handle missing cases versus human remains,” Harry revealed. “Now when a person goes missing we approach the family to ask for a DNA sample. In the Maggie Bennett case for instance, it’s routine if she had remained missing for longer than thirty days. The lead detective would have simply gone to her loved ones at some point and requested a cheek swab or some personal item he could use down the road for DNA comparison, like a hairbrush. The sample is sent to the lab, analyzed and then uploaded to the database where it’s kept there.”

  Bayliss assessed the troops. In his no-nonsense way, he added, “Drummond twisted my arm so that my office would revisit a few cold cases for him, to help out. You might want to listen up to what we’ve found. Back in 2000 they brought in a female, dismembered and unidentified. At the time the body was in an advanced stage of decomposition. But there were marks on the upper vertebrae indicating that whoever killed her tried to remove the skull.”

  “He tried to cut off her head?” Skye asked in astonishment.

  “Exactly. There were saw marks. But he was unsuccessful.”

  “You have photos?”

  “Of course.”

  Skye watched as Bayliss scooted around evidence boxes and took out several file folders until he handed one off to her.

  Drawing in a solemn breath at the sight of the gruesome autopsy images, Skye shuffled through the pictures in rapid order. But then stopped, realizing she needed to suck it up. What was the point of asking to see them if she had no intentions of really looking at the details? This victim deserved better. She reshuffled the stack, scanned each one at a time in slower study.

  “She obviously died a horrendous death, got dumped in a field until a hiker stumbled upon her body,” Bayliss said in a somber tone.

  “So we don’t know who she was or what she did for a living,” Josh said, taking the photos Skye had given him. “How old do you think this one was?”

  “I’d say by the condition of her skin, the condition of her bones and teeth at the time of autopsy, a best guess, early thirties,” Bayliss answered.

  “However long she lived, it wasn’t long enough, that’s for sure,” Skye grumbled. She stared at Bayliss, met intense eyes and asked, “By mentioning this one, you think we should include her on the list.” It wasn’t a question.

  “That’s up to you. I’m giving you the facts as to what the autopsy told me. Then there’s this one.” Again, Bayliss hunted through the files until he found the one he wanted. “The victim had bruises from her face to her shinbone like she’d been repeatedly whacked with a blunt instrument. What instrument exactly is indeterminate, but I did take impressions if we ever have anything to compare them to.”

  Skye took the pictures again after they’d made the trip around the room. She noticed the grotesque condition of the body almost at once. These photos were even worse than the other victim’s had been. The images made her a little sick at her stomach. As the taco she’d eaten for lunch wanted to come back up, she tamped it down, considered another point. “But she wasn’t dismembered.”

  “True. But here’s the thing. The killer tried. See the back-and-forth knife marks at the throat, then again on the torso. They indicate a primitive sawing motion. Could be he was interrupted or changed his mind for some reason.”

  “Or, it was an impromptu killing where he wasn’t at his usual location. He tried using whatever he had handy and it didn’t work out as well and he gave up. Two for two in that regard.”

  Bayliss and Dawson both turned to stare at the woman in surprise. It was Dawson who told her, “You’re quite good at this. It’s as if you have some kind of second sense. It’s your Nez Perce heritage, I think.” He turned to Josh. “Yours is more…feral…and new to you while Skye’s ability is…innate.”

  Josh eyed Dawson. For several long seconds the two men scowled at one another until Josh figured out why. It seemed the anthropologist had a little crush on Skye. Like any good pack leader worth his salt, Josh determined he needed to keep an eye on the doctor. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Dawson so obviously enamored with his wife.

  Sensing the tension between the two, Skye cleared her throat. “My father’s people. The second sense, it comes from my father’s people.”

  Dawson’s gaze fell away from Josh to Skye. “Is it true what the Native American legends say about part of getting through life means staying true to your spirit guide? How does that work exactly?”

  Skye tilted her head, assessed the man’s demeanor. Noting the anthropologist seemed to be veering off the subject at hand for a reason, she decided to humor him. “Staying on your path, a path thought to be destined before birth, is customary in many types of folklore and culture, predominant in Native Americans.”

  Dawson nodded. “I believe you’re meant to do this type of work. You both are,” he finally admitted. “I’ve talked to a few people in law enforcement about you…both of you,” the man corrected, glancing over at Harry. “Drummond is one who sings your praises the most.” Now, Dawson acted embarrassed when he sent Skye a smile. “That Foundation you started is something to be proud of. What you do for victims is amazing. If you ever need a hand don’t hesitate to ask. I’m happy to help out any way I can.”

  Bayliss nodded and threw in, “My office is committed to working round the clock on this, too. Anything you need expedited, you have only to let us know.”

  When they were done with the meeting and walking back to the car, Skye leaned into Josh. “I was worried about you back there. For a moment, I thought you and Dawson were…ready to tangle.”

  “He’s a strange man.”

  “Not as strange as some. Why are there so many mean sick bastards out there walking among us? Who does this kind of nasty business and keeps their jobs, their families, their souls intact?”

  “People screwed up early and often,” Josh returned. “But we’re going to stop this messed up son of a bitch. He’ll make a mistake and when he does, we’ll be ready.”

  That night, before they left to walk the streets, Travis showed up at their door, unannounced.

  “What are you doing here?” Skye asked surprised to see him holding a box clutched to his chest.

  “This nut job has me worried about you,” he looked over at Josh. “About both of you. I brought you what our people believe is protection of the strongest kind.”

  “What, you have a loaded .45 in that box?” Josh quipped.

  “Maybe something more powerful than that,” Travis told him. He took out a soft leather bag decorated with ornate beadwork. “It holds something from Daniel, the one you considered your father for so long a time, and something from me. Daniel’s spirit guide was a hawk named Deata. Mine is a crow named Eotyuu.”

  “Dee-ah-tay and Ee-ot-tu,” Skye repeated. “Yes, I know. What are you up to, Travis?”

  “Feathers from both are thought to hold great power. Native custom dictates that long after the mortal body dies, the spirit still inhabits the earth taking whate
ver form they used as a guide. Deata will watch over you. I can’t be with you every single second of the day. No one can. So my spirit guide will help you along the way until you’re able to defeat this man and bring him down.”

  “You’re assigning your crow, Eotyuu, to me for the duration? But what about you?”

  “I am. The shamans have told many stories, sung many songs about such things where guides are transferred to others to protect their loved ones in battles.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, my father.”

  Travis smiled. “That’s the first time you’ve called me that. I don’t want to sound greedy but I’d settle for dad at some point.”

  Skye wrapped her arms around him. “Okay, Dad. You humble me.” She held the soft leather pouch in her hand as if weighing its contents. “This is fairly heavy for just having feathers inside.”

  Travis grinned again. “It’s a little more than that, precious stones, locks of hair from the people who love you, old tribal arrowheads, herbs used for medicine. The usual stuff, think of it as your shield.”

  It was Skye’s turn to grin. She turned to Josh. “Did you know about this?”

  Josh gave his wife a sheepish look. “Hey, these days I don’t give up my hair easily without a fight or a good cause. Travis and I thought it was a good idea. Why don’t you do the honors, Travis?”

  Skye moved her hair aside so her father could place the thin, leather strap around her neck. The pouch was small, no more than two inches across by three inches in length, but as soon as the bundling hung in place, she could feel its power. It already made her feel capable and confident.

  Her father began to chant in brief ceremony until finally taking her by both shoulders. “It isn’t uncommon for the warrior to feel the power kick in. In times of great stress or danger, accept it, wield it. To take this man down you’ll need strong medicine to combat him. Even though he’s become reckless of late, the malicious aura that surrounds him is very strong. There is no greater strength than knowing here,” Travis put his hand over his heart. “That those who love you will not let you down and will be there for you when you need it. Never fear. Together, through this, Daniel and I will always be with you in spirit wherever you find yourself.”

  Chapter 14 Book 3

  Later, she and Josh faced a steady downpour as they headed out the front door of the building. But before they took two steps away from the entrance, something caught Skye’s eye. Taped to the glass was an envelope with her name written in block letters. The paper had gotten wet, which made the ink run.

  Standing under the covered portico as rain pounded the canopy above them, they traded looks until Skye snatched the note off.

  “What the hell do you suppose this is?”

  “Maybe you should wait to—” Josh advised too late as he watched her rip open the seal on the letter. He chuckled. “Or not. What does it say?”

  She bounced on her toes while skimming the words. “Holy shit, there’s another body in a Dumpster at Brawley and Edgewater near the harbor.”

  “That’s a construction site close to the viaduct project. I hope this isn’t about Willa.”

  “Me too. I’ll call Harry, get him to meet us there.”

  They took the Subaru and drove the ten blocks well above the speed limit. Pulling into a dark alleyway, Skye turned the headlights to high beam and let the luminous streaks guide them along.

  “The note said it was eight doors down on the right.”

  “Very specific instructions if you ask me.”

  But they counted down anyway till the Dumpster in question came into view. They found a light bluish steel box with ugly rusted places around the bottom. The steady rain had made the blood trail watery. But there were still faint traces of red stuff running down the front and sides.

  “This is no joke,” Skye stated. It looked as if the killer had had a good deal of trouble hefting the body to get it inside and left smears on the metal. The rain shower had streaked the rest.

  “Are we ready for this?” She asked as they both opened the doors at the same time. Skye skirted the hood to get closer. “This is sloppy work, Josh. I’m thinking this isn’t our guy.”

  “Maybe he was in a hurry.”

  Skye studied the entrance to the alley they’d driven down and then the other direction that dumped into Western at the end of the block. She took in the harbor to the left, noted the twinkling lights of the empty docks. Turning her attention to the row of abandoned manufacturing buildings to the right, she said, “Why? There’s no one within four streets of right here. And we wouldn’t even be standing at this spot unless he’d directed us here. Yet, it’s messy and rushed.”

  “Makes you wonder how this guy kept from getting caught for so long.”

  That’s what troubled her and she couldn’t let it go. “Why would he lead us here when it’s obviously such a fresh kill?”

  “Point taken. Should we look inside or wait for Harry?”

  “Unless you want me to lose my supper, I think I’ll elect for you to dive in and explore what’s in there.” At the sound of a car, she looked up. She recognized Harry’s gray Volvo. “Keep that in mind. We’re about to see what a pro thinks about this whole thing.”

  Harry surveyed the scene dressed in a rain-slicked jacket, a pair of jeans drenched at the cuffs, and an equally soggy T-shirt. He wore comfy tennis shoes without socks on his feet. In the end it was decided the detective should do the Dumpster diving.

  Standing inside the relatively empty container, Harry gave them the play-by-play. “We’ve got a young female still wearing her bra and panties. Light brown hair tells me it’s not Willa. This one had pretty brown eyes that were left open after someone bashed her head in. See this gash here? Fractured her skull at the base.”

  “That’s not our guy’s MO,” Skye said.

  Josh peered in from above. “And the note was different than the others printed not typed. I’d say this one looks no older than twenty-five. Not a lot of blood at the scene. I don’t think she was killed here.”

  “Somewhere else. Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Good observation.”

  “Let me ask you this. Why is she still wearing her underwear? If our guy tortures before he kills, then why would she have on anything at all? The others were dumped naked.”

  Harry nodded. “This one wasn’t tortured. Either he didn’t have time or… You guys are getting better at this. Bayliss is on his way.” When a patrol unit pulled up, he added, “And this uniform is here to secure the scene.”

  “Is that a polite way of telling us we’re done here?” Skye prompted.

  Harry gave her a sly look, his way of telling her, you two lead, I’ll follow and no one needs to know about it. Instead of that, the detective merely asked, “What do your instincts tell you on this one?”

  “You’ve changed, Harry,” Skye said in response, stealing a glance at Josh. “I believe our mutual friend here is encouraging us to use our creative side for the most impact.”

  Josh grinned. “We’re very good at following a trail, no argument there. And this is the freshest trail we’ve seen in quite some time.”

  “Exactly. Now get out of my crime scene,” Harry directed, loud enough for the uniform to turn his head. “Remember to text me with…whatever it is…you find to…report.”

  The two had plenty to say once they crawled back inside the car and out of the drizzle.

  “What do you make of it?” Josh wanted to know.

  “Harry’s change of heart or the careless way this killer disposed of the body?”

  “The killer.”

  “I don’t know yet but let’s leave the car here. I do my best sorting things out while I’m on foot. Even in the rain, walking helps me think.”

  Just as Skye suspected, with Kiya’s assistance, they picked up the killer’s trail near the entrance to the alley at Brawley and Western. While the activity back at the Dumpster buzzed with more cops and crime scene techs, the wolf had them heading in
the opposite direction. They crossed the train tracks, kept to the water’s edge, along the wooded greenbelt lining the harbor.

  The pier came into view. A foghorn sounded somewhere over the Sound. When they reached the bike path, Josh told her, “It’s for damned sure he didn’t ride his bike all this way to dump the body.”

  “No, but you can bet he lives in the area. Not sure it’s our guy though.”

  “The victim was the right age.”

  “There’s that, but the bra and panties are the bonus round. I still don’t think the serial we’re looking for would take the time to put underwear back on. Think about it. Our guy didn’t dress Maggie Bennett or Vanessa Farrington. So why would he do it now, tonight?”

  “He had to be rushed, which again isn’t like our guy. Not to change the subject but you know Dawson Hennings has a major crush on you, don’t you?” Josh tossed out.

  “I know. You handled that fact pretty well today. Since he’s only the second man to feel that way about me, it’s kind of sweet in an ordinary sort of way. The idea that this is a very ordinary thing that happens to people—I guess I’m flattered.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m not. I guess I’m jealous.”

  She grinned before elbowing him in the ribs. “You have no reason to be. By the way, when I was surfing the Internet this morning, I picked up on a disturbing story, a trend. It’s about what’s known as ‘rehoming’ disruptive children who have been adopted out but are no longer wanted. The parents dump these kids with people who haven’t even been vetted. They pass them around to anyone who’s willing to take them, a horrific practice that has to open up all kinds of opportunities for abuse. I’m wondering if the Foundation needs to take a closer look at this practice in the Seattle area.”