Page 78 of Crosshairs

“Autopsy report?” she asked, writing “Autopsy” in the left column before looking at Sam.

“Got an email from the medical examiner in Jackson this morning.” He opened his phone. “Here’s his summary—Hannah Dyson died from hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It’s an inherited condition where the walls of the heart muscle thicken, disrupting the heart’s electrical system, causing irregular heartbeats.”

Stunned silence followed his announcement.

“She died a natural death?” Ainsley said.

“No.” Sam was still looking at his phone. “The doc says there were no ligature marks around her neck, but she had those bruises that show up in the photos. Further examination revealed skin tissue under her fingernails, and that’s been sent forDNA analysis. The ME figures she fought for her life. And once he started looking closer, he discovered slight bruising inside her nose and mouth.”

He looked up from his phone. “The ME speculated the assailant caught her by the throat, and she got away. He caught her again and blocked her breathing by covering her nose and mouth with his hand. That could have thrown her heart out of rhythm, resulting in her death. He thinks when we find the killer, he’ll have scratch marks on his hands or arms.”

“Forward that to me,” Ainsley said as she wrote the medical term on the board. She pictured the scene. Hannah was a beautiful girl and, from what Colton and Drew said, liked attention from the boys. But she might not have welcomed attention she hadn’t sought. The footprints showed she ran from her attacker—that alone could have caused the abnormal heart rhythm. He could have caught her and restrained her in a choke hold like Ainsley had been in at the church or covered her nose and mouth with his hand. Either way, she struggled, scratching him.

Linc held up a photo. “How did she get under the tree roots?”

Sam leaned forward. “I asked the ME about that. She had dirt on her knees. With an abnormal rhythm it’s very possible Hannah fainted and her assailant thought she’d died and left her there. She could have come to and crawled up under the tree, where she died from the irregular heartbeat.”

“That sounds a whole lot better than thinking this might be a serial killing,” Hugh said. “I ran a query in the regional database for cases that have similarities, and there were no hits for this area. I’ll check the national database when I get to a computer, just to be sure.” He cleared his throat. “I have a court case next week, so I won’t be available to help you until probably the end of the week. It’ll depend on how the trial goes.”

“I understand and appreciate your help today. I know you could be preparing for the trial,” she replied.

He nodded, and Ainsley turned back to the board. She listedDrew, Colton, and Maddox in the middle column under possible suspects. She stepped back and stared at the board. What if Hannah’s murder was an accident? She quickly dismissed that thought—her assailant had run her down. She added one more name to the middle column. Jesse Mason. She tried to remember if he had any scratch marks on his hands or arms ... pretty sure his hands had been clear. She shuddered. Every time she was around the man, her internal alarm went crazy.

40

Maddox stood at the scarred sink and trimmed his beard with scissors he’d bought at the Dollar General just before closing time last night. The clerk was so busy trying to get out of the store, she didn’t even look at him closely.

A roach scurried across the lavatory, and he squished it with the empty bottle of platinum hair coloring. He’d paid cash from his dwindling supply for one night at the motel that was probably as old as he was. At least he had gotten a decent shower and changed into a pair of jeans and a plaid short-sleeve shirt he’d found at the Salvation Army discount store. He’d found a washer and dryer near the front office and used the facility to launder the two sets of clothes he’d worn for the past week.

Maddox eyed himself in the mirror, pleased the hair dye had changed his brown hair and beard to silver, adding years, even distinction, to his face. The man staring back at him bore little resemblance to the prison escapee. He turned and used the small mirror he’d bought to check out his profile. Good.

No one would mistake him for a thirtysomething. More like a fiftysomething. And if he needed to, he could add a stoop and a limp that would give the impression he was even older—like the old men he never looked at once much less twice.

Now to offer his services to Grace Johnson, the old womanwho lived on the southeast side of the street, across from Cora Chamberlain. He’d used the library computers to look up the owners of the houses on the corners of Walnut and Elm streets.

The Chamberlain house was where he’d seen the SUV parked. According to the librarian he’d chatted up, Cora Chamberlain’s sister was Ainsley’s grandmother and lived across the street. And the house on the other corner was the empty one with a for sale sign in the yard.

Maddox grabbed his clothes and the trash with the hair dye bottles in it. No need to take a chance. After ditching the trash, he pulled out of the motel parking lot and drove straight to Walnut Street and slowed as he passed by the house.

Good. No one had picked up the branches in the Johnson yard. Now he wanted to make sure Beaumont wasn’t home. Even with his changed appearance, she was no fool and might see through it if she saw him.

There was no sign of the ranger, and he parked in front of Grace Johnson’s house and walked up to the front door and rang the bell. It wasn’t long before a white-haired woman peeked through the window in the door.

“Mrs. Johnson,” he said loudly, “I’m from one of the churches in town, and I noticed you have a lot of limbs in your yard. Do you mind if I pick them up for you?”

Her eyes rounded, and she cracked the door. “You say you want to clean up my yard?”

Maddox risked taking off the ball cap. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her blue eyes twinkled. “Why, how thoughtful of you. My grandson was supposed to come do that today, but he hasn’t shown up yet.”

“I doubt he’ll mind if I get it cleaned up before he arrives.”

“I’m sure you are right,” she said. “I think I missed your name ... and of course, I’d want to pay you something.”

As much as he needed the money, he shook his head. “No, ma’am. I consider it my Christian duty to help you.”

“Oh my. I can’t say no to that.” Then with a slight frown, she tilted her head. “What church did you say?”

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