“So you keep your focus on the fish? On catching them?”
“This is going to sound ridiculous, but for me the real disengagement comes when the fisharen’tbiting. I find itreally peaceful to sit in the boat and do nothing but listen to the water lapping and the gulls calling overhead.”
I could feel my expression turning wistful.
“What?” she asked.
“Remember I told you my father was a bird-watcher? He always said he loved the spacesbetweenbirds. When he was simply waiting for a birdcall or a rustle in the trees.”
“It’s the exact same thing, really.” Alice chuckled. “My husband was all about the day’s catch and frying it up for dinner. I never admitted to him that when I went out on the boat alone, I sometimes didn’t even drop my line in the water.”
We had just ordered coffee when Alice’s phone buzzed.
“Okay, here we go,” she said as she caught the name on the screen. “Give me a second.”
I nodded as she rose from the table and positioned herself ten feet away, in the corner of the room. Less than two minutes later, she was back, her mouth agape.
“Can you say?” I asked. It was clear whatever she’d heard was big and I had to at least try to find out what it was.
“Yeah, but you’re giving me your word, right? This is merely for background. We can’t even hint at it.”
“You have my word.” My pulse had started to race.
“The remains in those other two bags? They were actually fairly well preserved. Just as your pal hypothesized, the bodieshadmummified.”
“Are they the campers?”
“They think so. They need to obtain DNA from some of their family members and make a comparison, but there’s a tattoo on one body that fits with one Page Cramer had.”
“Anything else?”
“No autopsy yet on Shannon, but from the bruising, it looks as if she was strangled. They’ll probably announce that.”
I winced. It was all so freaking sad.
“But here’s the really crazy part,” Alice continued. “There are cut marks on Shannon’s body, probably madepostmortem. And they seem to be on the other bodies, too.”
“He stabbed them after they were dead?”
“Yes, but only on the palms of the hands, and the tops of the feet.”
“What?” Somewhere in the back of my brain, a thought was knitting together fast, based on bits and pieces I’d read over time. “You mean like—”
“Yeah,” Alice said. “Like stigmata.”
Chapter 9
FOR A MOMENTISAT THERE STOCK-STILL, STUNNED.WHYwould the killer feel a compulsion to mark his victims that way?
“Do you know anything about this type of phenomenon?” Alice asked.
“Nothing beyond a few references I’ve seen in books.”
Alice fished her phone from her purse and asked Siri to fill us in.
“Okay, here’s Wikipedia,” she said, peering intently at her screen. “‘Stigmata is a term used by members of the Christian faith to describe the manifestations of bodily wounds, scars, and pain in locations corresponding to the crucifixion wounds of Jesus Christ, such as the hands, wrists, and feet.’ Um, let’s see... ‘Stigmata are primarily associated with the Roman Catholic faith....’”
“From what I’ve read, the wounds on so-calledrealstigmatics are supposed to have appeared spontaneously.”
