Page 26 of Unnatural Death

“Why would a bear or any other animal go through wallets and tear up passports?” I point out.

“It wouldn’t but an assassin might,” Lucy says. “Not the typical hit person, but a bad guy taking care of a problem while leaving a strong message.”

“The Mansons pissed off the wrong people,” Marino replies. “That’s what this is about.”

“They won’t need passports or anything else anymore,” Lucy adds. “Their days of moving around freely are over. They aren’t going anywhere ever again. That’s the message.”

“I worry what’s next.” Marino continues looking all around us. “Because something is. I feel it like a big storm coming. Like bad juju in the air.”

“More like a bad energy field you’re detecting.” Lucy continues with allusions that she doesn’t explain. “It’s called hatred and has the pull of a black hole.”

A myriad of tiny yellow evidence flags mark the helter-skelter landscape. I imagine what Benton might say about emotions left behind like an echo or an odor. Contempt, rage and arrogance come to mind. A need to annihilate and degrade, I’d add to the list. Also, to shock, to terrify, and I know what Lucy means about hatred. That’s here too. I feel it like an undertow.

We follow Marino to the open-sided pup tent investigators set up on the lakeshore. It shields personnel and equipment from the sun but doesn’t offer much in the way of privacy. Placing our scene cases and bags inside, we begin to unpack and make plans. I hand out bottles of water and snacks, reminding them we need to stay hydrated and fed.

“Any money you find goes in here.” Marino points out a large paper bag where investigators have been placing the hundred-dollar bills. “Most are wet because of all the rain. I figured they were fake the minute I started seeing them everywhere. But I’m not so sure after holding a few of them up to the light and seeing the watermarks. They look damn real.”

“Our labs will make sure they’re properly preserved and analyzed.” Lucy answers in a way that reminds him who’s in charge. “If they’re counterfeit, we’ll know it and hopefully find out the source.”

“Were the Mansons into funny money?” Marino and his old-fashioned expressions.

“They were into whatever was profitable that they thought they could get away with,” Lucy says.

“That might be why the assailant didn’t take the cash.” Marino continues speculating as if he’s the expert, moving around inside the pup tent, red-faced and sweaty. “Maybe he knew it was fake and that it would be really incriminating if he tried to pass any of it.” He’s already chugged down the water I gave him, tossing the empty bottle into a trash bag.

“Maybe the money wasn’t important. That’s what enters my mind based on what I’m hearing.” I take a bite of a granola bar as Lucy takes off her drop-leg holster. “Maybe the point was to kill Huck and Brittany Manson. It certainly seems that someone wanted them dead. Assuming that’s who the victims are.”

“I just don’t understand how the money got scattered all over the place.” Marino gives Lucy an accusing look. “You’re sure the helicopter didn’t cause some of the mess out here? It’s okay if it did. Shit happens.”

“As I mentioned, I would have blown some things, mostly leaves.” She places her .44 Magnum on top of a hard case, sitting down next to it.

“Well, I’m not the only one who’s been wondering about it. I heard a couple of your own investigators saying something.” Marino hands her a pair of yellow coveralls like the ones he’s wearing. She begins pulling them on.

“Everything I fly over is captured on video,” she says. “When I review it later, I’ll be able to show you what the scene looked like and how much I disturbed it, if at all. We’ll re-create exactly what happened.”

“I assume we can’t know what was here originally, including cash, other valuables, weapons and electronic devices,” I reply. “We don’t know what the assailant might have made off with …?”

“Uh-oh …” Lucy is distracted by her phone. “Dammit, not again. Well, that’s too bad.”

She shows us the video image on the display, a lot of dark green pine needles and brown branches with blue sky shining through. Pepper the quadcopter has crashed high up in a tree. He won’t be surveilling Buckingham Run further. He might not fly over anything ever again.

“Pepper, return home,” Lucy says to the app on her phone. “Three of the four blades are spinning, but no bueno,” she tells Marino and me. “He’s not budging.”

She commands Pepper tofly away. He doesn’t.

“Recently, we’ve had a bad run of Pixhawk flight controllers that without warning tell the drone to take a nosedive,” she explains. “And that’s what happened about a mile from here, and I don’t know how we’ll retrieve him. As you just saw, he’s not responding to flight inputs.”

While Lucy details her latest technical woes, the investigator with the cordless electric saw is walking this way carrying plastic evidence bags. Removing her face shield and mask, she pushes back her hood.

“How’s it going, Doctor Scarpetta?” Tron never calls me by my first name even when she’s at the house for supper. “I feel bad inviting you to this party. It won’t be fun, and I apologize for that in advance. But we’re very glad you’re here.”

Exotically pretty, with dark eyes and hair, Tron is covered in PPE like everyone else. Her quick smile and gentle disposition belie how fierce she can be if confronted, and I couldn’t ask for my niece to have a better investigative partner.

“Pepper bit the dust,” Lucy informs her. “Did a swan dive into a pine tree.”

“Not again. That’s what? Five now? Why does this keep happening?” Tron looks at the video image on Lucy’s phone. “How are we supposed to retrieve him?”

“Good question. He’s stuck more than seventy feet off the ground, and it’s not like we could get a fire truck out here or sling-load someone into the trees.” Lucy’s frustration flashes. “The only hope is my hovering as close as I can, blowing him down when I take off next. Except it probably would just get him stuck somewhere else. And I don’t want to crash the chopper over a drone.”

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