Page 20 of Haunted

While one crime scene tech snapped photos, several others were combing through the ditch, collecting anything within a hundred-yard radius of the body to be used as evidence. However, my sight was riveted to the mutilated remains lying underneath the large black tent which had been erected to keep the rain away.

He wasn’t wrong. She’d suffered unspeakable horrors.

“There’s skin and blood under her nails, Agent Palmer,” the medical examiner called out. “We’ll bag her hands and process the tissue once we have her back at the lab, but from the scratches on her arms, my guess is it’ll be hers.”

“Damn. So much for DNA,” Duncan replied.

“Do you have a time of death?” I asked.

“Good morning to you too, Agent Clarke.”

“My apologies, Dr. Jenkins.”

If Waverly and Duncan symbolized the parental units to our band of misfits, then Farrah Jenkins embodied the role of favorite aunt. She doled out unsolicited—occasionally inappropriate—advice regarding our love lives, had a sharp tongue, a quick wit, and loved to push as many buttons as she could find.

“With this rain and the cooler temperatures last night, my best guess is within the last twenty-four to thirty-six hours. I’ll have a better time frame once I check liver temp.”

Clearing my mind, I inhaled deeply before crouching down beside the victim; Noah did the same on the opposite side. We worked in silence, focusing on the visible trauma. She’d been bound, if the circular wounds around her ankles and wrists were any indication. Whatever was used had cut into her flesh rather severely during her struggle; zip ties maybe, or something along those lines. Her body was littered with bruises in various stages of healing, along with countless stab wounds, none of which appeared to be fatal, and distinctive burn marks I recognized immediately.

“Fucker used a Taser on her…repeatedly,” I offered.

“Yeah,” Duncan sighed.

Noah cleared his throat. “He had her for a while. Why dump them where they can be found so quickly though? What’s this bastard's endgame? Notoriety?”

Disgust echoed through his statement. We’d witnessed disturbing crime scenes in the past, although nothing quite to this level of depravity.

“If that’s the case, he’s getting what he wants,” I nodded toward the news crew being held off by local law enforcement.

“You two get anything?”

Koen and Lanie joined us. They’d split off to interview the man who’d made the discovery in the early morning hours along the interstate.

“Nothing,” Lanie started. “Hardly any other vehicles were on the road besides a few other eighteen wheelers. The trucker only pulled over because of a low pressure alert on one of his tires.”

“If he hadn’t gone down into the ditch to take a piss, he’d have missed her completely,” Koen finished.

“Thank Christ for weak bladders.” Noah stood, stalking off.

“No doubt this case will have past demons resurfacing for some of you. My door is always open, as is Waverly’s.” Duncan shifted his attention to Noah’s retreating back, then back to us. “Stay sharp.”

Part of the reason we worked so well as a team was the four of us shared a common denominator. We’d each joined the FBI because someone we knew and loved had been the victim of an unspeakable crime.

Noah’s older sister married her high school sweetheart while he was away at college. He’d never liked the guy and it turned out his instincts had been spot-on. After a 911 call regarding a domestic disturbance, the police located his sister on the floor of the bathroom, beaten to shit and barely breathing. Her husband pled guilty to a slew of charges, including attempted murder, once evidence showed he’d been brutalizing her for years.

Koen’s dad was a narcotics detective in San Francisco. He’d gotten too close during an investigation of a local gang accused of running drugs and girls. They executed him in a hailstorm of bullets when he was leaving the precinct late one night. At fifteen years old, Koen grew up too quickly, with his mother and two older siblings to hold together.

Lanie’s best friend in high school fell head over heels in love with a man she met over the internet. She snuck out of her parents’ house in the middle of the night to meet him and disappeared without a trace. Two years later, her body was discovered in a shallow grave after a human trafficking ring was brought down.

“We need to catch this bastard,” Lanie seethed.

“Agreed,” Koen and I said simultaneously.

“Get back to the office.” Duncan flicked his head in the direction of our SUV. “We won’t know until after the autopsy if she was one of the two missing women. If that’s the case, then he’s down to one, which means?—”

“He’ll be hunting,” I finished.

Henley

---