Page 6 of River Wild

“Once I get her on the table, I’ll check her temperature, but from the color of her skin, I’d say she was dropped in the river early this morning. She hasn’t been in the water long.”

“Cause of death?”

“Will depend on if there is any of the river water in her lungs,” the coroner said. “I suspect strangulation given the ligature marks on her neck. I’ll call when I have more.”

With that he left, leaving Stuart to glance back at the river through the trees and bushes next to the county road. The deputy he’d called in was searching the area along the river and road for any possible footprints or evidence that might have been dropped.

The grass along the side of the river had dried as summer faded into fall. He could see where the fallen, dried leaves from the cottonwoods had been crushed into the ground where someone had stepped. No drag marks that he could see. Which meant he’d carried her out into the river and laid her face down in the water, which felt odd. Dead weight wasn’t that easy to carry—especially over the boulders in the river.

Why not just dump her out beside the road or into the water at the edge of the river? It seemed almost...caring to carry her out there. But why put her face down? Because the killer couldn’t bear to look into her face?

He turned to gaze back at the distance from the river’s edge to where she’d been left in the water. The victim was about five-five and weighed about a hundred twenty pounds. Dead weight like that would have required some strength to carry that far out into the river. Stuart felt there was little doubt that her killer had been a man.

After Willow Branson was in a body bag on her way to the morgue, Stuart pushed away the ominous feeling that had overcome him and went to work searching the area with his deputy. He told himself this would be the last time. By afternoon, he would no longer be sheriff. He was stepping down. He didn’t feel as relieved as he thought he would. Nor did he feel guilty. He felt numb and had for a very long time.

But for now... The county road was gravel and well-used. The weather had been clear. The killer hadn’t left any tire marks at the edge of the river.

But his deputy had found one boot print that didn’t match Ralph Jones’s near the edge of the water. Stuart took photos of the print and called his other deputy to come out with materials to make a plaster mold of it.

Some paper and other garbage had blown into the weeds at the base of several nearby trees along the river’s edge. He had his deputy bag everything they could find in the vicinity, even though it was doubtful the killer had left them a clue.

As soon as a couple of the state boys arrived, Stuart headed into town with only one clear thought.I can’t do this anymore. I don’t have to. I’m done.

CHAPTER THREE

THESHERIFFHADjust gotten a call from the coroner when Bailey walked into his office. He hadn’t changed his mind about quitting. The first thing he’d done when he reached his office was type up his resignation, but he hadn’t had a chance since then to turn it in—or let anyone else know.

“Sheriff?”

He’d missed what assistant coroner Ronald Danbury had said on the phone because he’d been surprised to see Bailey charge into his office, her face pale, her blue eyes wide. “I’m sorry—”

“I was saying the small horseshoe on her left breast appears to have been made with something hot that seared the skin and left a definite scar, as if the killer had wanted to brand his victim,” the coroner continued. “The position and placement of the U-shaped brand on her breast must mean something to him. Also, I have the cause of death. She drowned, which means she was alive when she went into the water, but probably not conscious.”

Stuart closed his eyes for a moment. Why the brand, he wondered in horror. It wasn’t uncommon for cowboys to have the brand of the ranch they worked for emblazoned on their clothing and tack. Brands, especially in Montana, had meaning and stayed registered to the family often even if the ranch was sold. Along with showing livestock ownership, brands had historically represented the cowboy, his work, his ideals and his hopes.

In the case of the woman this man had tortured and branded, it could also be a sign of ownership or at least possession. He became physically ill as he thought of what this monster had done.

“Ronald, I’m going to have to call you back,” he said as Bailey closed and locked his office door behind her. She seemed to vibrate with tension, practically wringing her hands as she paced his small office. He had no idea why she was here, but she was clearly agitated. He tried to remember if she’d ever been to his office before. He didn’t think so. He quickly disconnected.

“Bailey—”

“I need to ask you something,” she said, stopping in front of his desk. “About Willow.” So, she’d already heard about the young woman’s body being found in the river. No surprise given how quickly information was disseminated through the Powder River Basin grapevine.

Her gaze met his, holding it. He could see the tautness in her face, but it was the bright fear in her eyes that scared him, a more brilliant shade of fear than even last night. He’d never seen her like this. “How was she killed?”

“Why do you want to—”

“Just tell me.Please.”

He heard the desperation in her voice. He went with the partial truth, the less painful truth, since she seemed so upset about Willow’s death. He was surprised since he hadn’t known that they were friends. Bailey and Willow resembled each other, but they were about a decade apart in age and were nothing alike. Willow was all rainbows and sunshine, while Bailey was... Bailey. To see her this upset...

“She drowned.”

Bailey stepped back, breaking eye contact. He saw her immediate relief as her body seemed to slump with the weight of it. “So, she wasn’t...” Her voice broke. Turning abruptly, she started for the door.

“Wait,” he said as he rose from his chair, but she had already unlocked the door and was halfway out when she said over her shoulder, “That’s all I needed to know.”

He started to go after her when his phone rang. He’d been expecting a call from the crime team. He needed to let the leader know about his resignation as sheriff. He had to take this. Swearing, he picked up. A tech was calling with information about the boot print that had been found at the edge of the river.

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