Page 67 of Grave Obsession

“No, we are waiting on the city's crime lab and their coroner,” Captain Graves replies.

“Where the hell are they? You called me almost three hours ago.”

“They misunderstood Jefferds’s directions and ended up in the next town over, they are on their way back now,” Captain explains, I nod in understanding.

“So this is the message you were referring to.”

“Mhmm,” my uncle grumbles. “What do you think it means?”

My mind lights up with the conversation between Mallory and I this afternoon. If my theory was flimsy before, now it has the potential to be rock solid. He’s got an innocent woman in his sights and ‘soon’ he will enact his sinister plan upon her. My uncle and I exchange glances, having our own silent conversation. I’ll tell him my thoughts in private.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Myers breaks the silence from the spot on the other side of our captain.

“Where’s Johnson?” I inquire.

“He found the body, so he hightailed it back to the precinct once backup arrived. You know how he is,” Myers says, slight annoyance lacing his tone.

“Hmm,” I mumble.

Captain Graves heaves in a deep breath and upon his exhale, he recomposes himself as the no-nonsense police commander he needs to be. He looks to me, “I want you in my office once we are loaded up and out of here,” he directs and I give a stiff nod. Looking to Myers, he says, “You take Smith and scan the perimeter again. You two are making us look like incompetent fools by missing a boot print Graves found within five minutes.”

Myers tucks his tail between his legs and retreats like a kicked puppy. Looking back to me, the captain gives his orders.

“You stay here and monitor their every move. You inspect the body before it leaves and I want your preliminary report ASAP. I will not cancel the haunt, Graves. It was your aunt’s favourite thing in the world and the one time a year I feel her presence the strongest. You fucking catch this motherfucker, boy. I mean it.” He’s still every bit the strong and stoic man I grew up with, even with the years of wear upon his soul.

“Yes, sir.” He nods to me then briskly turns and exits the building to greet the city teams that have just arrived.

While I await their entrance, I do a walk through of the scene, uncovering what I assume to be the victims bag. It’s been tossed in a dark corner. Another deliberate distraction?

Pulling out my walkie, I call Jefferds, telling him what I found and to hurry up with the things I need to tag and bag. A moment passes then he rushes in and starts flashing pictures.

“Do another goddamn walk-through,” I snap. Shock and irritation flare in his eyes, but it can’t possibly match the thundering of blood in my ears. Another piece of evidence missed. I slip on the sanitary latex gloves and begin to photograph things as I remove them from the purse. There's no cell phone, damn it. Her wallet is partially hidden beneath a mass of personal effects, it holds no cash or pictures, just shopping cards and her ID.

Melody Elaine Kromwell. 23. Height: Five foot five inches. Blonde Hair. Brown eyes.

Looking back to the victim, her dark hair sways erratically as she’s finally lowered down onto a gurney. That’s not overly alarming, women dye their hair all the time.

∞∞∞

“I think she was hunted,” I say.

“What the hell do you mean 'hunted'?” My adoptive guardian sits across from me, his immense desk swallowing the space between us.

“The soles of her feet were torn to shreds, she was covered in dirt and scratches, ones that were clearly not from a blade. There was grass and pine twigs woven deeply into her hair. We need to expand our search perimeter into the woods. There’s a very good chance we will find more evidence, whether it will be useful or not is to be determined.”

“Fuck,” the captain exhales.

“What I want to know is how he managed to hunt and kill another girl when that mill was instructed to be monitored 24/7. Who was on patrol last night?”

“Myers,” he says, hanging his head in exhaustion.

“And he’s still here?” I roar. “Why the fuck hasn’t he been suspended...or fired? Leaving a fucking crime scene unmanned and defying orders from your commanding officer is grounds for some sort of penalty.” I’m ready to flip this massive desk and storm out of here.

“I can’t fire him, son. He has a family,” he says, trying to rationalize with me.

“Are you serious?”

“We need all hands on deck for this,” he reasons.

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