Page 7 of Lake House Killer

“Only if he promises not to eat the evidence,” I shoot back, giving Buddy a quick scratch behind the ears.

Nikki shakes her head. “Or maybe he should be in charge of interrogations. We don’t have to tell anyone he’s all bark, no bite.”

“Very funny,” Hale flatlines. “If that dog sniffs out the kidnapper before you do, I’m giving him your badges.”

“Deal,” Jack says. “But if he solves the case, I think he should get your office.”

“Not with my view, he isn’t.” Hale lifts a brow. “I want reports from all of you within a few hours.”

“I’ll be up in forensics,” Nikki says. “I’ll have their digital footprints cracked and laid bare before you get back.”

“I know you will,” I say with a nod.

Jack and I speed our way out of the room with Buddy trotting alongside of us, proud to be the center of attention.

We head out into the harsh light of day, ready to tackle whatever waits for us.

And whatever waits for us is evil incarnate.

4

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

An early evening mist glides over the water of Sugar Pine Lake as Jack and I pull up to the secluded cabin tucked in the woods.

The scene is already bustling with activity as the sheriff’s department, CSI, and forensics team bustle about. There’s an underlying tension in the air that always seems to accompany a crime scene.

Jack and I hop out, leaving the windows down for Buddy, who promptly curls up in a ball in the back seat, resigned to the fact he’s not coming along for the murderous fun.

It’s icy out and the sky is morphing into a pale shade of lavender. The sharp scent of pine mingles with the sharper odors from the police vehicles and the faint scent of forensic chemicals.

The cabin itself looks like something out of a wilderness magazine, tall and slightly rustic, comprised of dark logs and some brickwork. But whatever charm it may hold is now overshadowed by the yellow crime scene tape that lays over the dewy grass like a warning. The wooden structure stands solemn and foreboding against the backdrop of towering pines as it stares out at the misty lake below.

Jack glances back at the water and shakes his head. “Well, at least the view is nice. It’s a shame about the company.”

“Agree. Next time we head out this way, it should be for a picnic.”

“It’s a date.” He nods my way and my mouth falls open.

“I was not inviting you out on a date.”

“You sort of were,” he says as he leads the way.

Men and women in blue jackets with the letters CSI emblazoned on them move about around the perimeter, meticulously snapping photos and collecting samples. Near the front porch, a small team of forensics experts huddles over what I’m hoping is a series of footprints.

The coroner’s van is parked cockeyed in the driveway. I have no doubt they’re huddled over the bodies, doing their thing as well, and soon enough we’ll be right there with them.

We spot the sheriff speaking to a few deputies before they disperse and Jack and I make our way over to him, flashing our badges at the man simultaneously.

“Agents”—he nods our way—“Sheriff Hansen.”

He’s a stocky man with a weather-beaten face that tells of years in the field and his brows are furrowed with concern. “Glad you could make it. We’ve got a hell of a situation here. Two dead, one wounded, one missing. I spoke with the owner before they hauled him off to Sugar Pine General. His name is Damien Cole, the big writer?”

“We’re aware,” Jack says as we both nod.

“He says someone broke in last night”—the sheriff continues—“he heard gunshots and both he and his wife jumped out of bed. He confronted an intruder in the hall and they swung something at his arm and it jolted him. He says that’s the last thing he remembers. EMTs saw signs of bruising around his temple. He was shot in the hand as well. He woke up this morning and couldn’t find his wife. What he did find was two of his friends shot dead. He said he has no clue who could have done this or why.” He gestures toward the cabin. “We’ve secured the area best we can. No sign of forced entry, but the windows on the ground floor were open. What do you think?”

Jack nods my way as if he’d like to know my thoughts on the matter.

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