Soon, we’ve packed our gear, ready to roll.
Two steps toward the tree line, I point. “Hey Jeff. Over here. Boot prints. We missed ’em last night.”
Butt to his heels, he fingers the ground. “Male. Recent. Could be a random hiker.”
“I suppose…” Deep in thought, my voice trails off.
“Your sixth sense tingling again, Spiderman?” My buddy cuts me a knowing glance, so I shrug.
“No. Simple logic. First, the ground was soft when they were made. Second, we haven’t had a soaking rain since Monday—about the time Andrea said Briana split.”
When I whistle for my canine, she trots over, ears perked. Nose to the earth, circling, she sniffs.
“Woof-woof-woof.” Those soulful doggie eyes lift to mine, butt wagging.
“Go on, girl,” I say. “Find her.”
She scampers ahead while we humans trot after her. Every so often, she stops, turns her head, and barks as if to say,Hurry up, slowpokes!
A few miles up the hill, my companion halts, paws the earth, then sits beside a shallow depression with a muted whine.
“What’s up with her?” Jeff rushes forward while I hang back.
“I don’t know. I’ve never known her to act like this.” At my sharp whistle, two ears perk up.
“Here, Becca.” Hands clapping my thighs, I urge her from the spot she was digging.
Once she’s at my side, my friend inches nearer.
“Oh, God.” He jerks backward, clapping a palm over his mouth. “Damn, it’s a hand.”
Gut twisting, I shove past him. “Cripes. Puke over there. Don’t contaminate the crime scene.”
He swivels, sinks into the underbrush and retches. Even though my stomach churns too, I manage to hold down my breakfast.I’ve seen a helluva lot worse. Still, shit.
My phone has no bars. Figures.
Shrugging off my pack, I scan the trees until I find a tall oak that towers above the rest. Perfect.
Hopping up, I swing my legs over the lowest branch. Once I’m upright, I climb as high as I dare go. Arm snaked around the trunk, I wedge my boots, steady my breath, and take out my phone. Of course, Griffin doesn’t answer. Once I’ve reported the murder to his home office, I call my brother-in-law, Scott Hunter.
The fed answers on the first ring. “Hey, Kade. What’s up?”
“I’m on the Long Trail. Listen, I need your help.” Once I finish describing the horrific scene and the urgency of the situation, he concurs we should investigate—see if it’s my missing person.
Back down on mother earth, I crouch over the corpse, while Jeff nudges some dirt with a stick. “See the heavy class ring? That’s not her. It’s a male.”
Relief whistles from my lungs. We clear more debris from the man’s face, taking care to snap photos. He’d been shot in the backof the head. The bullet tore out through his nose, leaving a jagged hole where it used to be.
“You okay?” I tap my green-faced partner’s shoulder.
“I will be.” Jaw tight, gaze lifted, he nods.
After sending our pictures to Hunt, we discover three distinct sets of boot prints—two bigger—one smaller.
Eyes on the trail’s white paint, I slide a clip into my service revolver. “Can you wait here for backup?”
“Eh-yup.” Jeff drops his backpack and flicks the safety off his pistol. “You think the killer’s still nearby?”
