WHEN THEYreached Bloody Dick Swamp, George chose a better place to park his car than the last time before they got out. They all had sturdy enough shoes to be able to make the hike to the bunker without getting their feet wet. On their way, George realized the ground was a lot drier than on the day they had found Tyler. Then again, it hadn’t rained for a few days, and the swamp wasn’t a real swamp like some in the area but rather something that aspired to be one. Otherwise it would have been impossible for Cervill Senior to build the bunker in the first place. When they reached the clearing with the boulder, they saw it was still taped off. Closer inspection showed that the old trapdoor had been replaced by a new one with an impressive padlock barring people from entering.
“The killer definitely can’t return here.” Geena stared at the lock. “And he probably knows it by now.”
“Probably.” George turned around to leave the narrow space inside the boulder. Andi was standing under the angel oaks, staring south of where they had come from. “You think this is the way?” George said it for Geena’s benefit. He already knew Andi had found the path the killer used. His partner nodded. His gaze was glazed over, his tone too even because he had to concentrate so hard to speak in complete sentences. Or what could pass as one.
“Good path, beneath the trees, mostly dry, broad enough for the stinking thing, he can come close, only has to carry them for a few yards, easy.”
“It’s kind of creepy when he gets in the zone.” Geena appeared next to them. “But he’s right, and I have to admit, I envy you for having such an intuitive partner.” She brushed past them, following the barely there trail Andi had indicated. “I can see tracks. Broad, reminds me of a tank, just closer together.”
George followed her, grabbing Andi’s elbow to navigate him over the roots. “The ATVs for swamp land have extra broad wheels.”
“Makes sense. Do we follow these?”
George looked at Andi. His partner was still at home, but barely. Before George could contemplate a good excuse for Andi staying back, he touched his hand.
“I’m fine. We need to follow the trail, see where it leads.”
“You already know.”
“We still need to see. Chain of evidence.”
“Fucking damn.” George kept Andi at his side, deciding to let Geena think what she wanted about them. No way would he let his partner fall.
The trail of the wheels was prominent where the ground was wet, harder to follow where rocks underneath made the ground dry faster. In any case, the ATV the killer used had to be high quality because the terrain was rough, even for something with broad wheels. After about half an hour they reached a forest road. A quick GPS track showed them it connected to an asphalt street about two miles farther out, which led back to Maybank Highway.
“Now we know how he comes and goes. Or came and went. Should I be worried that it seems to be so easy?” Geena stared at the forest road as if it had somehow insulted her.
“It comes with the territory. Even though Charleston is densely populated, there’s all this land around us where people hardly ever go. I don’t want to know how many crimes go undetected because nature helped destroy all evidence.” It was a white lie. George had a vague idea how many crimes they never got to punish, and if Andi wanted, he could find most of the corpses hidden in the swamps and woods around Charleston. It just was no use and all in all better not to think about it too intensely.
“Let me take some pictures before we go back.” Geena got her cellphone out and started documenting the road and part of the path. “We should ask CSI to make a cast of the tire or whatever this is.” She gestured at an especially deep and clear groove just off the road.
George looked at Andi, who nodded slowly. “Good idea. I’m not sure if it will do any good because these tracks look pretty flawless, as if the tires are brand-new.” He pointed at the sharp ridges and valleys in the mud. “All ATV tires for muddy ground are the same, and if we’re lucky, CSI is going to find some small irregularities that will help us assign the vehicle to the killer. Probably. I have no clue how many ATVs are out there and how easily accessible they are.”
“Well, we can at least try. Plus, it’s standard procedure anyway. And I’ve seen cases cracked with less.” Geena didn’t sound too optimistic while she typed a short message to her contact at CSI before she shoved her cell into the back pocket of her jeans with more force than necessary. “Let’s go back.”
They marched in silence, Andi sometimes cocking his head as if he was seeing something interesting while Geena veered off the path now and then “just in case.” When they reached the copse of angel oaks close to the bunker, Andi stopped.
“Someone’s there,” he whispered.
Geena, who had been only a few feet in front of them, stopped immediately, her hand reaching for her gun. Her entire body tensed, turning her from casual wanderer into predator in the blink of an eye. She looked back at George, motioning for him to go to her left. While he did so, he looked at Andi, trying to determine if the person in front of them was a threat. His partner shook his head subtly, indicating with his chin that he would stay on the path. They moved forward in a fan formation, Geena and George with their weapons drawn, because George thought it better to follow her lead instead of having to explain why he didn’t see a reason to get his gun while approaching a trespasser at a serial killer site. Andi just kept walking, although silently. When they reached the edge of the copse, they took cover behind the two biggest angel oaks and looked into the clearing.
Geena relaxed behind her tree to their right. In the clearing stood a young woman who seemed to be in her twenties. She had her phone out and was taking pictures of the ground. George nodded at Geena, before they both stepped into the clearing, startling the young woman.
“Charleston PD, don’t move!” George had his weapon trained on her, more out of habit than because he was worried about a potential threat. The young woman held up her hands, clutching her cell like a lifeline.
“I’m not doing anything wrong!”
“Which is about the most suspicious thing you could have said,” Geena answered, stepping closer to her. “Identify yourself.”
The girl huffed. “My name is Tina Whitewall. I’m Izzy Whitewall’s big sister.”
“Oh.” Geena lowered her weapon the same time George did. “I guess I don’t have to ask what you’re doing here, then.”
With an angry gesture that betrayed her agitation, Tina shoved a long dark brown strand of hair behind her right ear. “I wanted to see where she was buried for so long.” The faint tremor in her voice squeezed George’s heart. Her pain was like a sharp knife cutting through his professionalism.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He put his weapon back into its holster. “Would you mind answering some questions for us, though? We would have visited your family in the next few days anyway, so we might as well do it now.”
Tina shrugged. “Why go to the trouble? You didn’t want to hear what I had to say then, and I can’t imagine it’d be different now.”
