Madeline’s breath catches. “How do you know it’s one person?”
“Two people would have carried the whole body out together. Faster, easier.” It’s not easy to chop up a body. I’m assuming it takes an incredible amount of strength to cut through bone.
I move the light along the trail. “One person had to cut her up to move her. Which means they’re strong. And they knew they’d have time after we ran. The whole night.”
“Why would someone do this to Murphy? I mean, I know she cheated to help Lana win captain, but that’s silly bullshit. It’s nothing to kill over.” People kill for stupid-ass shit every day. What’s jarring to people is the fact that it isn’t supposed to happen in these places, but the reality is that it’s everywhere. Wealthy people can be some of the cruelest and most fucked-up of them all, and they have the money to hide their indiscretions and crimes.
“I’m not sure, but someone clearly wanted her dead.” We’ll have to dig into that more later. We need to search the boathouse and then get the hell out of here. “We should try to see where the blood trail leads,” I say, forcing my voice to be steady. “If they dismembered her here, they had to move the pieces somewhere. Maybe there’s a clue.”
Madeline nods against my chest, then pulls back just enough to look up at me. She doesn’t step away. “Okay. But you stay close.”
I almost smile. She’s giving me orders now. If she thinks I wasn’t keeping her close, she has done lost her mind.
I sweep the flashlight along the floor, following the faint smears. The cleanup is sloppy, but I’m guessing if the average person stepped into the boathouse, the first thought wouldn’t be that it’s blood splatter. The spots are lighter and intermittent.
That’s when I notice a storage cabinet locked with a heavy padlock. I crouch down, shining the light along the bottom edge.
Scratches on the concrete. Fresh ones. And a single dark blond hair caught on the metal corner.
“What’s stored in there?” Madeline asks, kneeling beside me.
“I’d guess equipment. Life jackets. Ropes.” I study the scratches. “And probably where she was stashed while they figured out what to do with us showing up.”
“Can you open it?”
“I can try.” I stand, shining my light across the wall and onto the shelves. I stick the flashlight in my mouth while I slide the gloves, I brought with me on. Then I proceed to grab the toolbox I spot on one of shelves. I hand my light to Madeline to hold. I open the box and find a couple of wrenches.
I place the open ends of both wrenches inside the U-shaped loop so they face each other like a pair of jaws. I grip the far ends of the wrenches and squeeze them together like giant nutcrackers. The old lock makes a sharp but quiet crack, breaking the casing.
I open it. There are only a couple of life jackets inside. I take the light back from Madeline. There are a few dried dark red drops that I know are blood.
Then I spot a glint of metal on one of them. I use the flashlight to illuminate the life jacket and see it’s a keycard.
Kingmakers’ staff access. And printed on the front: COACH MURPHY - ICE CREW.
“Fuck,” I breathe out. If we weren’t sure it was Coach Murphy before, we are now.
Madeline reads over my shoulder. “Why would her own keycard be out here?”
“Because she didn’t leave on her own. Someone took her.” I stand and pocket the card. “And we need to find out who before they realize how much we know.”
A floorboard creaks behind us.
Madeline screams, a sharp sound that tears through the silence. I spin, clamping my hand over her mouth before the echo dies, pulling her tight against my chest.
“Shh,” I breathe against her ear, my heart hammering. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“Jesus Christ.” Georgia’s voice comes from the doorway, shaky. “You scared the hell out of us.”
Grant steps in behind her, phone flashlight sweeping across the space. “We saw the light.”
I lower my hand from Madeline’s mouth slowly. She’s trembling, but her eyes are already hardening, that armor sliding back into place.
“You were supposed to wait in the car,” I say, not letting go of Madeline. I’m pissed that they scared her, far more than I should be. My protectiveness of her is growing, and there is no stopping it. It’s almost becoming obsessive.
“And you were supposed to tell us what you found,” Georgia fires back. “But since neither of you did, I got worried about you and...” She trails off, her gaze landing on the bloodstains. “Oh God. Is that?—”
“Yeah,” Madeline says, her voice steady now. “Someone for sure killed Coach Murphy. And we think they cut her up right here.”
