ne in the snow in town but not good enough for alpine conditions.” She pointed ahead. “There’s the construction site and, look, there’s an access road out back for the tradesmen. I wonder where that leads to?”
Kane scanned the area all around the chalet but snow had obliterated any footprints or signs of anyone being in the area and the plow had cleared the pathway. He’d seen the plan of the resort many times. It was on the noticeboard in their front office. “That maintenance road runs parallel to the ski slopes and up here behind the cabins. If you remember the last time we were here, someone had used the back road beside the slopes to commit a crime.”
“Vividly.” Jenna’s mouth turned down as she moved to the chalet door and visibly shuddered. “Oh, I’ll never get used to seeing murder victims.”
Kane squeezed her arm. “I’ll check for vitals and then come right out. We’ll need to preserve the scene and I haven’t brought my forensics kit.”
“Go right ahead.” Jenna peered inside the door. “I’ll wait here.”
Without hesitation, Kane skirted the room, examining the floor for any evidence, but there was little of significance. He approached the body, keeping well away from the pool of frozen blood, and checked for a pulse in the man’s neck. He looked up at Jenna and shook his head before retracing his steps. “Frozen solid.”
“Dammit, this means anyone could’ve used the back road to get to Dakota Storm’s chalet as well, without anyone seeing them and escaped down the mountain before we arrived.” Jenna peered in the door.
“If the same killer murdered this man, I don’t think they used the back road.” Kane’s gaze moved to the open door and the body in a pool of blood. “They closed the road after we arrived and Mr. Sparks would have noticed the door open before now.” He walked up to Sparks. “Did you clear this path earlier today?”
“Yeah, I’m clearing them a few times a day. I finished that area before seven and I’ve been going back and forth all day. The snow is relentless and people have to get back to their rooms.” Sparks lowered his sunglasses and peered into the chalet. “Is that body real?”
Kane frowned. “I’m afraid so, but it’s not clear how he died. It could’ve been an accident. Don’t mention this to anyone. We don’t want people to panic and we’ll need time to call the medical examiner and contact the next of kin before we release any details.”
“Sure, sure.” Sparks looked at Jenna. “Do you need me to stay around, Sheriff?”
“No thanks. We can handle it from here.” Jenna glanced back at the road. “Are you in contact with the person clearing the road from here to town? We’ll need the back road open urgently, so we don’t disturb the guests.”
“Yeah, I’ll call him on the two-way. He’s due to come by this afternoon so the bus can return to town, so he’s already on the mountain. I’ll get him to come by and clear it now.” Sparks’s forehead wrinkled into a frown. “If you need the road cleared more often, call the council. The snowplows are working around the clock, so I hear.”
“Okay, thanks.” Jenna gave him a wave as he turned the Bobcat around and headed back down the trail, spilling salt and sand from a spreader set behind his machine. She turned to Kane. “I’ll call Wolfe. While we’re waiting, we’ll make a start at processing the scene. I have a pocketful of evidence bags we can use. I doubt there’ll be fingerprints. No one in their right mind would come here without gloves. We’ll just have to do our best. Move slow and check out everything.” She made the call.
Kane moved closer to the door and something shiny in the snow caught his eye. He bent and pulled out a gold earring. “This is a match to the one we found outside Dakota Storm’s chalet.”
“An impossible coincidence.” Jenna opened an evidence bag and Kane dropped it inside. She peered at the earring. “I hope this has DNA on it. What’s the chance the killer dropped it?”
“More like they left it deliberately. They wouldn’t want to be seen wearing one earring after the announcement this morning.” Kane peered inside the chalet, the puff of steam from his breath clouded up his sunglasses. He removed them and edged into the room, taking in the entire scene. The man lay on the floor spreadeagled in a pool of frozen blood. Snowflakes dusted the body, covering any signs of injury. But as he moved closer, he caught the glint of something in the fall of hair. Using the pen from his pocket, he lifted the hair to reveal three small pieces of metal protruding from the victim’s neck at the base of the skull. With care, he brushed away the snow from the man’s bloody coat and jeans. “Oh, Jesus.”
The body was peppered with bright silver nails. He turned, searching the immediate area for a weapon and his gaze settled on the nail gun. “He’s been shot with a nail gun.”
“He suffered.” Jenna’s face paled. “He’d have bled out with this many bolts in him.”
Kane shook his head. “There’s not enough blood to indicate he bled out. The body shots were aimed to cause maximum pain. I figure the three in the temple killed him.” He straightened and peered around the room. “And there’s the nail gun still attached to the compressor.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve found a murder weapon. Wolfe will be ecstatic.” Jenna stepped carefully across the small space, scanning the ground. “Look at the floor. It’s already covered with footprints from the many contractors who’ve visited, and no doubt the victim and killer.” She pushed her hands into her pockets and looked at him. “Take the photographs. There’s blood spatter everywhere—floor, bathroom door—and there’s a handprint on the doorframe. All no doubt from the victim, but he’s wearing gloves and in this weather the killer would have been wearing them as well. I’ll call Webber and direct him to the back road.” She pulled out her phone.
Kane took photographs with his phone and examined the entire chalet with care, making sure not to overlook anything. Collecting fragments of evidence was vital to solving a murder, but apart from a few dusty footprints on the wooden floor and damage to the walls from the nail gun, he found little else to document. There was no sign of a struggle. The dead man had no other contusions visible, nothing on his face, and apart from blood on his gloves and marks where he’d tried to crawl away, it was as if the man had been in the room alone.
He bent down, avoiding stepping in the blood, and searched the victim’s pockets. The inside pocket of his jacket held a wallet with four hundred in cash and a driver’s license. In another pocket he discovered cards promoting a book titled Nailed It with a photograph of the author. He stared at the driver’s license photograph and compared it to the man’s blue frozen face and stood. He waited for Jenna to disconnect and showed her the license. “We have Jedidiah Longfellow out of Wilderness, Wyoming.” He handed Jenna the pile of cards. “Now this is weird.”
“It looks like the victims in his book were killed by a nail gun.” Jenna pushed the phone back in her pocket. “We’ll need to find out if he writes true crime. It might be payback from someone involved.”
Staring down at the face of the man, Kane rubbed his chin. “Possible motive but I think we’d have heard about a previous nail gun murder. It’s not the usual weapon of choice. I figure he wrote fiction. Two murders in chalets next to each other. They must be linked. I wonder what connection he has with Dakota Storm?”
Fifteen
During a homicide investigation, Deputy Zac Rio regarded every suspect he interviewed as a possible killer. He didn’t have the intricate profiling skills of Kane or Special Agent Jo Wells, the behavioral analyst from Snakeskin Gully who often dropped by to lend a hand on some of the more difficult cases, but he had an instinct about people. Alas the woman seated opposite him, an author who went by the name of September March, had skewed all his senses. Miss March informed him she lived out of Spirit Lake in the foothills of the Black Rock mountain range. He’d never heard of the place. He’d met some strange people in his time in Los Angeles, but September March was weird with a capital W. With long charcoal-black hair and dressed in long flowing robes over army boots, September
obviously had a penchant for snakes, a silver one with red eyes curled around her neck and hung down the front of her black top to nestle between an ample bosom. The same silver design adorned both wrists and snake earrings dangled from her ears. She had a long face, pointed chin, and green eyes topped with highly arched eyebrows. Rings covered every finger and when she walked bells attached to the bottom of her voluptuous skirts tinkled. He looked up from his notes and met her disinterested gaze. “What kind of books do you write?”
“Everyone here writes crime.” September leaned forward and tipped her head to one side as she peered at him. “I write supernatural crime thrillers.”
Rio nodded and made a note. “Are you published?”