“No,” I said, swinging my leg off my bike. “Unless the killer was in there, I won’t go. I need to see all the access points that were available to him.”
“This way then,” Declan said as he walked off, turning the corner of the building. Following him, I looked around the town of Diamond Creek. It was small. Smaller than Purgatory, but like most small towns, it had all the amenities.
The alley behind the bookstore had two points of entrance. “Sheriff, stay,” I ordered as I slowly made my way down the alley, scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary.
“I’m not a fucking dog, Ravage,” the sheriff snapped, handing me a pair of gloves and evidence bags. “I know how to proceed with a crime scene.”
“If you did, then you wouldn’t need me,” I simply said, putting the gloves on and ignoring the sheriff’s retort as I focused on the ground, searching for anything out of place—footprints, a dropped item, a glint of something metallic. The silence was heavy, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the soft crunch of gravel beneath my boots. Every detail mattered; out here, even the smallest clue could unravel the whole mess.
Crouching low, I examined a set of faint scuff marks near a dumpster. The ground was disturbed, as if someone had struggled or tried to hurry through the narrow passage. Myinstincts prickled; something felt off, the air thick with tension and the metallic scent of fear lingering in the shadows.
As I moved deeper into the alley, something caught my eye near a rusted dumpster—a torn scrap of fabric snagged on its edge, fluttering gently in the breeze. Kneeling, I inspected it, noticing a stain that looked suspiciously like blood. The scent of fresh earth mixed with the faint metallic tang in the air, making my senses sharpen. Nearby, scattered cigarette butts suggested someone had lingered here recently, possibly watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Continuing on, I followed the disturbed ground out of the alley, coming to a stop before turning right, only to halt at the main street that ran through Diamond Creek. Walking out into traffic, cars slammed on their brakes, horns blaring as I bent down and touched a small drop on the asphalt. Rubbing the thick substance between my fingers, I narrowed my eyes as I hurried across the street, ducking behind The Bake Shoppe, where I instantly saw more disturbed ground.
Picking up the scrap, I turned it over in my gloved hand, careful not to disturb any possible evidence. The stain was fresh, not yet dried, and the fabric itself seemed to have come from a jacket or heavy shirt—something that would blend in on a chilly night like this. I bagged it for later analysis, my mind racing through possible scenarios. Whoever left this behind was either in a hurry or wounded, and the proximity to the dumpster suggested it wasn’t accidental.
Scanning the alley once more, I noted a partial shoe print pressed into a patch of dirt, the tread unique enough to stand out. I snapped a photo with my phone, marking the spot for the forensics team. There was a story here, written in subtle signs and overlooked details, and I was determined to read every line.
The back door to the bakery opened, and I heard the sheriff shout, “Trudy, it’s just us. Stay inside, please.”
The woman nodded before I heard the door shut, and I moved further down the alley that led to an open field. Knowing the killer used this as his point of entry into the town, I proceeded forward, my eyes scanning the area for more clues.
Moving slowly into the open field, my breath caught as sunlight glistened on a line of trampled grass leading toward the tree line. Each step revealed more—the faint imprint of a boot heel, a torn edge of a paper receipt half-buried in the dirt. I kneeled, brushing aside debris to reveal a single, fresh drop of blood glistening on a blade of grass.
“Sheriff!” I shouted as the man walked up behind me. “Did you or your deputies come out this far?”
“No. We were too busy securing the crime scenes in town.”
“What body parts were found?”
“Simon found a leg, Trudy found an arm, and Ryder found the head.”
Nodding, I stood and headed deeper into the brush when I came to a complete stop. “Sheriff, you’re going to need to get your forensics people out here. I found the rest of her body.”
The sheriff rushed over as I held my hand out to stop him from entering the crime scene. The second Declan saw what I was looking at, he turned and cursed, “FUCK!”
“Declan, whoever did this isn’t going to stop. He enjoyed it. Reveled in it. He also raped her.”
“What?” Dec spun around, glaring at me as I stared at the remnants of the body.
“She’s naked and face down. He violated her before he tore her apart. This isn’t the first time he’s done it either. Call over to the Rapid City PD. I believe they are dealing with something similar.”
“Do you know who this is?”
“Yeah.” I sighed and admitted, “I believe it’s Karlyn’s dad. Karl Ingalls Sr.”
Looking over the surrounding area, I stilled when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I whispered, “He’s watching us.”
The sheriff didn’t move. “Are you sure?”
“Oh yeah.” I smirked, my eyes narrowing toward the horizon. “Fucker is looking at us right now. He’s out there waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“Death.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
