“Spooked the crap outta me when I first saw it!” Budge called from the outskirts of the clearing. “Like I said, I’d have called the cops right away, but there’s no cell reception in these parts.”
Maddocks squatted down. Angie crouched beside him. Slowly, they ran their beams over the exposed parts of the skeleton. Angie’s pulse quickened at the familiar rush of coming upon a possible major crime scene. Right on the back of that rush rode a sharp whip of reality. Never again would she be officially tasked with managing her own crime scene.
Mouth tightening at the overwhelming impact of this thought, she said, “Coroner will need to get a full team in here. It’s going to take a while to excavate this.” She leaned in closer to examine the skull. It was encrusted with dirt, no remaining flesh discernible. A mud-filled eye socket stared back at her. “Some kind of compression fracture.” She pointed to the hole in the left side of the skull where bone caved inward, cracks radiating out like a starburst. “This person took a hard blow to the left side of the head.”
“Won’t know if that’s post-, ante-, or perimortem until a forensic anthropologist gets a good look,” Maddocks said.
“Some ribs are missing.” Angie aimed her beam at the exposed portion of encrusted rib cage.
“Maybe the dog did that,” Maddocks said. “Or other scavengers—” His hand stilled as his beam settled on something poking out of the moss near the base of the rib cage. “Some kind of dark fabric, maybe?”
“What fabric lasts longer than it takes for a body to become fully skeletonized?”
He glanced at her. “Gore-Tex? Neoprene? Stuff like that doesn’t biodegrade.”
“Like neoprene waders?”
“Hmm.” He looked up. “Seems a bit far from the river to be a stray angler.”
“We’re still wearing waders,” she said. “This person could’ve walked up here, like us. We came via that circuitous trail from the beach, but I reckon the river is only a few hundred meters north of this grave as the crow flies.”
“Yeah, but it’s all old growth and dense scrub from here to the water as the crow flies. Some serious bushwhacking if anyone wanted to come that way from the beach.”
Angie repositioned herself as Maddocks spoke. She was getting stiff, her own neoprene waders doing only so much to ward off the evening’s creeping cold. As she moved she noticed another bone sticking out of the disturbed moss carpet at her feet.
“Oh shit!” She moved back farther. “Another one. Right here, under my boots.”
They both stared down at the bone. It was long with white marks at the rounded end, as if recently gnawed.
“Humerus, maybe,” she said.
“What’s that beside it?” Maddocks pointed at a round object encrusted with black muck.
Angie zeroed her flashlight onto the object. “Looks like some kind of cuff bracelet or a piece of machinery. We need to move back, get out of here. This is a crime scene until proven otherwise. We should cordon off this whole area until the coroner and local law enforcement can get in.”
“The closest RCMP detachment is in Port Ferris,” Maddocks said, coming to his feet. He and Angie backtracked carefully along their path of entry to where Budge and Claire waited patiently in the dripping rain and encroaching darkness. Tucker whimpered softly and wiggled on his lead as they neared.
“Can you radio it in to the lodge, Claire?” Maddocks said. “Someone from there will need to call the Port Ferris RCMP and inform them a clandestine grave has been unearthed by a dog. Give them the GPS location. And tell them Sergeant James Maddocks from MVPD major crimes in Victoria is on scene and will attempt to secure the area until they can get in with a coroner.”
Claire keyed her radio, stepping aside to make her dispatch.
Angie turned to Budge and said, “Is there a road up from Port Ferris on this side of the Nahamish?”
“Just a deactivated logging track, not used much apart from hunters and me and Axel Tollet, who also has a homestead on this side. His spread is farther west, though.”
Maddocks said quietly to Angie, “There’s no way the coroner and law enforcement will be getting in here tonight. Not much can be done until first light anyway—those remains aren’t going anywhere. Not after all these years.”
“What about scavengers, now that it’s been exposed?” Budge pointed to a dark mudlike mound near his boots. “Bear’s been here already. This scat is fresh, dumped since I left here to go to the river to call you guys for help.”
The radio crackled as a message came in from Rex on the other side of the Nahamish. “Gotcha, Claire. Message has been relayed to the lodge. You guys coming back over?”
She turned and looked expectantly at Maddocks and Angie.
Maddocks said, “I’ll stay out here for the night, secure the scene until the local authorities can get in. Can we get some supplies from the lodge? I’ll need a tent, sleeping bag. Radio. A supply of dry wood for a fire to help keep wildlife away. Some bear spray, pencil flares, just in case. And some rope. Or line, or tape—something I can use to run a rough perimeter around the grave site.”
Angie stared at him, her skin going hot. He was making her feel like a spare part, hammering home that she’d been fired, was no longer a police officer let alone a sex crimes or homicide detective.
Claire said, “That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll go and collect the gear from the lodge myself and ferry it back over the river. Are you coming with me, Angie?”
