“Thank you.”
Pushing open the driver’s door, she stepped into the morning sunshine. The air was a bit warmer now, the sun climbing higher in the sky. A stranger would have said it was a glorious day, oblivious to the grim history of this plot of land.
She retrieved the autopsy report from her bag and held it against her chest like a shield as she walked toward the ditch, her steps measured and deliberate. She could do this. She had to do this. Take it moment by moment.
Later, she could fall apart.
"According to the report, a farmer found her," Kelly said, her clinical tone at odds with the trembling in her hands. "He saw that it was Lori, and he knew that she was missing, of course. He called her parents and then the police."
“He called her parents first?” Ben asked, his brows raised. “And then the police?”
“Yes, and Lori’s dad made it here first, from what I heard.”
“Did he touch anything?”
“I don’t know. I doubt anyone would question anything Mr. Powell did.”
“My dad would have read the riot act to anyone who messed up his crime scene,” Ben replied with a shake of his head. “He would have been pissed as hell.”
“I think I’d like to hear more about your dad,” Kelly said. “He sounds like a good sheriff.”
“One of the best,” Ben agreed. “And I will tell you about him, but now isn’t the time. Maybe later.”
He followed her to the edge of the tall grass, stopping beside her as she looked down into the shallow drainage ditch. It wasn't deep, maybe three feet at its lowest point, with sloping sides covered in grass and weeds. In the summer, during heavy rains, it would fill partially with water, but now it was dry, a depression in the earth that held only shadows and memories.
"She was here," Kelly said softly, pointing to a specific spot. "Face down with her arms over her head. The police report said she was fully clothed, but I always wondered about that."
“Her dad, or even the farmer, could have redressed her,” Ben suggested. “In their minds, they might have thought they were doing the right and proper thing. They wanted to protect Lori at the end. We should talk to the farmer.”
“He passed away about three years ago,” Kelly replied. “The farm was sold to a corporation.”
“Cold cases are never easy.”
Moving past her, Ben stepped carefully down the slope to examine the bottom of the ditch. He crouched, running his fingers through the short grass, his expression focused and analytical.
"It's isolated enough," he observed, glancing back toward the road. The closest house was over a mile away. "But still risky. Anyone driving by could have seen someone dumping a body."
"Exactly," Kelly agreed, opening the autopsy report. "That's always bothered me. This road isn't heavily traveled, but it's not deserted either. Farmers use it constantly during planting and harvest seasons, and it’s also a good road to take to a few neighboring towns. The killer’s best bet would have been at night. There’s not much traffic then."
"Unless they came from across the field," Ben suggested, gesturing toward the east. "Is there another access point? A service road or farm path?"
"There's an old tractor path about a quarter mile down that way. It connects to some back roads eventually, but you'd have to know it was there."
"It’s a possibility the killer knew the area well enough to plan this spot specifically," Ben concluded, climbing back up to stand beside her. "Local knowledge."
"That's always been my theory," Kelly confirmed. "Which narrows the suspect pool to... pretty much everyone in Bergen. Not some drifter through town who got the urge to kill."
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but we can’t, at this point, rule out a drifter,” Ben warned. “We don’t know enough to do that.”
“I know, but that’s just my belief.”
“Sometimes, our guts are better at figuring things out than our brains are.”
Sighing, she shook her head. This exchange was almost surreal. She was used to everyone questioning her about, well, everything.
“Are you always this amazing?” she asked with a roll of her eyes. “Do you ever disagree with anyone? You have yet to tell me I’m out of my mind and need therapy. You’re just so damn…reasonable all the time. Do you ever get angry or jump for joy? You’re so in control. And polite.”
She must have said something funny because it was clear he was trying not to laugh, clearing his throat and covering his smile with his hands.
