Turning back, May saw that Andy Baker, the pathologist for the area, was already at work. Wearing plastic covers over his boots, he knelt down in the muddy shallows to begin his examination of this body. With it getting dark, Sheriff Jack was directing spotlights to be set up. May knew they would need them, because Andy might be here another hour at least.
Finally, May’s investigator’s brain began moving again.
Timelines were the first thought she had.
Emily had gone missing two weeks ago. But this body was most definitely not two weeks old. May was going to guess that it was not more than a day old, although she knew Andy could tell more clearly. So she had been held somewhere, and then killed. How, May wasn’t sure. There were no obvious signs.
It was the creepiest thing she’d ever seen.
And as spine-chilling as this tableau was, May knew the harsh truth of it was that she would be in charge of the investigation, as the county’s deputy. It would be up to her to figure out who had done this, and why.
There was no time to waste. May knew that every moment counted now and that this case would test her skill in ways she hadn’t yet imagined.
Someone had created this scene. Who had done so and why?
It was sending a message, but May couldn’t see what it was saying, or why.
She needed to urgently hunt for clues—both physical clues at the site itself, and also the more invisible clues that might be picked up through questioning.
For now, the site needed to be examined first. Perhaps the killer had left a trace behind.
CHAPTER THREE
“I can’t believe this, May,” Owen muttered to her. “This is the weirdest crime scene I’ve ever seen.”
While the pathologist was finishing his work, the two of them were pacing around the boathouse area, carefully searching for any clues or evidence. This raft could have been launched elsewhere, May knew, but it could also have been pushed out into the water nearby. Evidence at the scene might lead back to the killer. They could not afford to miss anything that was there.
“I can’t believe it either. This is just mind-boggling. I hope we can find something to link back to whoever did this.”
“It’s like an elaborate stage for a play,” Owen muttered, echoing May’s own thoughts.
The two of them were working together, searching the area in ever-widening circles, trying to find anything that could help them.
Overhead, clouds were gathering and the night was growing darker. A wind was starting to blow strongly, and the trees creaked and moaned.
Her mind was racing. What had it taken to plan, to build, to launch such a strangely significant funeral scene? What did it mean, why had the killer done this, and who was he, or she?
“Do we even know how Emily died?” Owen asked, as they paced along the riverbank, scanning the ground for any sign of footprints, for any splinters or scuff marks that could have come from the homemade-looking raft.
“No. I hope Andy finds out more by the time we get back.”
“I hope we find something along the way.”
The well-trimmed grass looked pristine, though dry, May saw. She switched her flashlight on, and Owen did the same, but as May searched, she started to suspect that there was nothing here to find.
The lake was huge and there were miles of shore frontage that the killer could have chosen in the nearby area. If he had come to the boathouse for a reason, May was sure the tracks would be nearby, but she couldn’t even see any small signs.
As she walked with Owen, she did feel relieved that the relationship between them felt ninety percent back to normal.
Ten percent awkward, May could cope with.
It was better than totally, one hundred percent, off the scale awkward, which it had been for a short while after he’d asked her on a date.
May’s face still flamed at the thought of it. It had been so unexpected. He’d been so embarrassed. She hadn’t realized he was asking, and had then been mortified by how she’d handled the entire debacle.
Now they were back on an easier footing.
May hoped that in time, she could think about the dating idea again and consider it in a calm light, without all those memories flaring up again.