“The stake is actually drill steel. It’s the big thing put in the drill to pound into the rock. This one is only two feet long—most are eight to ten. This one is well worn.”
Mia shook her head. “It’s as if the killer wanted us looking at the Volk family and their mine.”
“Unless itisthe Volk family, and they don’t care if we know.”
“What is this, the Wild West?” Mia fingered the photograph. “We can assume a man was the killer—an incredibly strong one to be able to shove that two-inch-thick drill steel into a human throat.”
“Yes. Definitely a man.”
Mia sucked in air. “Ruby was fully clothed.”
“Yes.”
“There was a lot of anger here.” Mia could almost hear the screams. Or maybe those were memories. She shook her head. “Any signs of sexual assault?”
“No. But we should know more when we get the coroner’s report tomorrow.”
“Who found her?” Mia asked.
Pete grimaced. “A troop of Boy Scouts from Seattle trying to earn their survival badges. She wasn’t quite dead when they found her.”
Mia stilled. “You think they interrupted the killer?”
“Yeah. I do.” Pete rubbed his whiskers. “The Scoutmaster had a pistol and drew it immediately. If the killer was still there, he left quickly. Ruby gasped a couple of times and then died in front of those boys.”
Poor kids. The first death anybody witnessed scarred. “What do you know about the Volk men?”
Pete slid three folders toward her. “Not much. Seth was in the military, some sort of scout. Worked alone.”
Mia flipped open the file to see a lot of paper…with most words blackened out. “Something tells me he was more than just a scout.”
The phone rang, and Pete lifted the dented handset to his ear. “Sheriff.” He nodded, his gaze slashing to Mia. “You have got to be kidding me.” A red flush shot up from his neck to his thick cheekbones. “Find out how and get her back.” He slammed down the phone.
“What?”
“Ruby Redbird’s body was stolen from the Seattle coroner’s office late last night.” Pete stood, fury lighting his face. “I sent her to Seattle for an objective result. Apparently, the Volk family’s reach is farther than I’d hoped.”
“You’d better have more than your gut to go on if you make an accusation like that.” Unease had Mia shifting in her chair.
“I know.” Pete scrubbed both hands down his face. “I need a favor.”
She sat back, exhaling slowly. “What?”
“Help me on this case. I’m no profiler, and you’re the best.”
Pete had trained her in combat and shooting, and she owed him. She sighed.
He pressed forward. “I know about your problems in DC. You catch a killer here, and you’ll be back in—maybe work as a cop for Seattle instead of just a shrink. You’re the best, kiddo. Please, help me.”
She owed him. Without question, she owed him. “I don’t know. I still need to find a home for Mom and Aunt Dotty. We’re not even settled yet.” Guilt choked her. They’d never be settled again.
“I know, and I have a solution. There’s a cabin for rent near Lost Lake. It’ll be quiet and peaceful—perfect for Gena as she recovers from her, ah…ordeal.”
“Ordeal? That’s one way to describe a kidnapping by a psychopath.” Mia took a deep breath.
Pete nodded. “I know. How is she, anyway?”
Heat slid down Mia’s throat. “Same. She’s the same.”
