Cindy Dees – Deadly Sight (страница 7)
“Drag marks. Two thick, parallel lines. Something heavy was pulled out of there.”
“Like a body dragging its heels?”
“Yup.”
He had a pistol in hand and jumped in front of her so fast she barely saw him move. “Cover your eyes, Sammie Jo. I’m turning on my flashlight.”
She slapped a hand over her face.
“Okay. The light’s off. I need you to come over here,” he announced.
He was crouching a few yards away from her. She joined him and immediately saw what he was looking at. “Do you think that’s blood?” she asked in a hushed voice.
He touched a dark, wet cluster of dead leaves and smelled his fingertips. “It’s blood, all right. Can you pick up anything from here? A trail?”
She walked around slowly, staring at the ground. “There are too many disturbed leaves and sticks. But I’m not seeing any more blood. Maybe someone bled here and then was carried away from this spot?”
“Could be,” he allowed.
She walked in ever wider circles, seeking some clue as to what had happened here. “I only see a few drops of blood near that first bit you found. I’d say someone was punched there. Maybe knocked out. I can’t discern a spatter pattern, and there’s not enough blood for a knife wound or gunshot.”
“Makes sense.” Gray went back into the house to conduct a more thorough search while she continued looking around outside. They’d been at it for maybe ten minutes when she heard something in the woods. And it sounded like it was headed this way.
“Gray,” she called out low. “Bring that gun of yours out here.”
He was by her side in an instant, shoving her behind him. She peered over his shoulder impatiently. She spotted the movement and let out a relieved breath. “It’s a dog.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“That’s why I’m here, Smarty Pants.”
A big yellow Labrador retriever bounded out of the brush a few moments later.
“That’s Luke’s dog,” Gray said. “Take cover. Zimmer may be close behind.” He took her arm, but she stood her ground, staring in horror at the dog.
“Uhh, I don’t think so,” she said thickly. She turned away, retching.
Gray flashed his light at the dog and swore, confirming what she’d seen. The dog’s muzzle and front legs were matted with blood, and he was carrying what looked like a severed human hand in his mouth.
“Here, boy.” He whistled to the dog, who bounced over to them eagerly. Gray grabbed the dog’s collar. “Can you get me a piece of rope or something to leash him?”
She stumbled back to the house and came back with an electric extension cord. Gray had disengaged the hand from the animal’s mouth. It looked badly mauled, and it looked male. “Luke’s?” she choked out.
He shrugged. “Let’s see if we can get Fido to lead us back to the rest of this guy.” He showed the dog the hand and said urgently, “Go get him, boy.”
The dog took off, straining against the makeshift leash. They raced along behind the dog who took off like an arrow through the woods.
The spruce forest had little undergrowth apart from dead, needleless branches that tried to scratch the heck out of her as she barged through them. Were it not for her excellent vision, they’d have succeeded.
The dog whined and Sam strained to see ahead. “There. I see something,” she panted to Gray.
He dragged the dog to a walk, and they approached cautiously.
“No movement,” she reported quietly. She eased forward, taking the lead whether Gray liked it or not. Her vision was simply so much better than his that she had to go first. There. Something roughly human in size and shape lay on a limestone outcrop. She slowed abruptly and Gray slammed into her nearly knocking her off her feet.
“Ooomph,” she grunted as his arms went around her to steady her. Oh, boy. He was as strong as she’d imagined.
“Sorry,” he muttered in her ear.
“About a hundred yards ahead,” she breathed.
“What direction?”
Usually, when she went out in the field, the men she was with had night-vision equipment. She’d forgotten he was as blind as a kitten out here. She stepped around behind him, turned his shoulders slightly to the left and gave him a little push.
He walked forward cautiously, his arms out in front of him. He looked like a zombie, and an urge to laugh might have claimed her if she wasn’t scared to death of whatever was ahead.
They walked for maybe a minute, and then Gray made a sound in his throat. “It’s a body. Looks like animals have been at it. You don’t have to look if you don’t want to.”
But that was kind of the whole point of her being out here, wasn’t it? She took a deep breath and stepped out from behind him.
Gray stared in dismay at what had once been a human being but was now an eviscerated mess. Fido whined eagerly, obviously sensing a tasty snack. He tied the dog’s makeshift leash to a tree and approached the gory remains cautiously. The guy’s face was intact enough for him to murmur, “That’s Zimmer.”
It could not be good for their investigation that Jeff’s undercover cult infiltrator was lying in pieces on the ground. What in the
“Uhh, Gray,” Sammie Jo replied, “you might want to take a closer look at the body with a light. I’ll cover my eyes for a second.”
Her tone of voice warned him that he wasn’t going to like what he saw. He flashed the light down at Luke’s head, which was just about the only intact part of him, and reeled back, shocked. The guy’s bloody mouth was frozen in a silent scream of terror and agony.
“His wounds don’t look like the tearing a snacking predator might cause.” Sam swallowed thickly and continued, “The edges are clean. Smooth.”
“Like a knife cut?” he asked, startled.
“Exactly.”
“I need to photograph this. If you need to move away while I use the camera flash, feel free.”
She stumbled away in the dark while he got to work snapping pictures from every angle. His hands shook as he wielded the camera. This grisly scene was all too much like another one, years ago—
Violently, he forced the memory from his mind. This was work. He’d seen plenty of blood and guts before. He could do this, dammit. Besides, how would he explain himself to Sammie Jo if he freaked out and ran screaming?
Clenching his jaw with all his strength, he lifted a flap of skin to examine it. Sammie Jo was right. A blade—a sharp one—had made that cut. Luke had been sliced open from rib to rib and hip to hip, then the two horizontal cuts joined with a vertical slash. He’d been laid open like a book. A methodical killer, then. Possible torture. Not a fight or self-defense.
It looked like a lot of the poor guy’s intestines and other organs were missing. Unless Fido or some other critter had eaten them, it would mean Zimmer had been gutted elsewhere. As Gray photographed the ground around the corpse, nowhere near enough blood was present to go along with the crime. Definitely killed elsewhere and dumped here.
The violence of the murder staggered him. Who felt such rage toward Luke Zimmer? Or worse, who would send such a vicious message to others with this killing? Who could the target of such a message be? Zimmer’s boss, maybe? Gray’s alarm ratcheted up another notch. What in the
He continued snapping pictures grimly. There were rope burns around Luke’s wrists. He’d fought for his life against those ropes, for the skin was raw and bloody. Gray reached down gingerly to test the rigidity of the corpse’s clawed hand and arm, and it gave way slightly under pressure.
It took about three hours for rigor mortis to set in and about three days for it to wear off. Luke didn’t stink enough to have been dead for three days, which meant his murder—for what else could this be—had been recent, within four or five hours, probably. And that meant he must have been killed relatively near here, too.
He heard movement nearby and whipped out his pistol.
Sammie Jo’s voice floated out of the dark. “It’s just me. But keep that out.”
It was eerie how she could see in this gloom. And why did she want him to keep his weapon drawn? He searched the woods urgently, but saw only darkness and more darkness. She materialized out of nowhere, and even though he knew she was there, she still startled him.
“I’ve got a blood trail,” she murmured. “Is it possible he wasn’t killed here?”
“It’s probable. Lead on.”
“Should we call the police and let them do the tracking?”
“Not until we have a chance to gather data for ourselves,” he replied. “Once they get involved, we’ll be shut out of the investigation.”
She moved off confidently at an oblique angle to the ridgeline. They’d been walking for several minutes when she asked, “Why on earth would the killer kill someone in an isolated spot and then move the body to another isolated spot to dump it? Why not just leave it where he killed the guy?”
“That’s an excellent question. Maybe the end of this blood trail will tell us.”
No sooner had he said those words than she came to an abrupt halt. His night vision was adapted enough by now for him to stop before he plowed into her, but he didn’t see what she was peering at.