Home > Water's Edge(8)

Water's Edge(8)
Author: Gregg Olsen

“See if there are any witnesses around the area where the body was found.”

“That’s a good idea. But how about we start with the last person to see the victim?”

“You mean Robbie Boyd?”

“He was the last person to see her.”

“But the coroner said she’s been dead more than twenty-four hours. Would he stick around that long?”

“Plenty of killers want the bodies to be found.” I reference the two types of killers: organized and disorganized.

“We learned that in the academy,” she says.

“Which kind of killer do you think this guy is?”

“Organized,” she says. “He must have planned it. The clothes are missing. He left no visible evidence behind. He hid the body, but not so well that it wouldn’t be found. He made it hard for us to identify her by messing up her face.”

“Do you think Boyd could have killed her?” I ask.

She thinks a minute. “I don’t know. He’s pretty creepy.”

I go into teacher mode. “Killers enjoy the kill. Sometimes they come back to where they’ve hidden a body. It gives them a sense of power, control. They know something no one else knows. The posing of the body means something to them. Maybe they’re mimicking another killer. Robbie said he was a criminal justice student.”

“So he would know about some of this stuff. He told me to either arrest him or let him go. He knew I couldn’t arrest him, didn’t he?”

She is catching on.

“But he’s still a suspect,” I say. “What did you think about his statement?”

Ronnie doesn’t hesitate. “His story about why he was there in the first place stinks. And he never told me who told him about the place. I don’t believe he was just hoping to find somewhere to climb rocks.”

“Did he have climbing gear in the car?” She took photographs of the inside and outside of the car but didn’t look in the trunk as far as I could tell.

“He had some rope in the trunk. I might have forgotten to take a picture of that. There were gloves on the back floorboard that might be for climbing. I didn’t see any carabiners or other equipment. He said he was just checking it out, so maybe he was going to come back?”

Maybe. But he seemed squirrelly to me.

“You said he lives on campus at the college?”

“That’s what he told me.”

“Did he show you a student ID?”

She looks down at her lap. “I didn’t ask for it. Should I have?”

“Not necessarily,” I lie, because in her defense, I did kind of throw her to the wolves.

“We’ll call the campus when we get to the station to check him out. But you’re right: the first thing is to identify the body. Hopefully, someone is missing her.”

 

 

Seven

 

 

I start the car to leave and immediately run the case through my mind while Ronnie looks through her phone. I have near perfect recall. Always have. It’s a blessing and a curse. A blessing when I need it. A curse when I don’t want to think about something bad in my life. I concentrate on what I saw from the cliff.

Rope tied to tree. Coiled. Look down side of cliff at rocks and beach. Can see only rocks and sand and water.

The rope was coiled when Boyd found it. He almost tripped over it. He threw it down, climbed down, saw the body, climbed up. Then Deputy Davis arrived and climbed down before I got there. I didn’t know if that meant anything, but it bothered me. I’ll call Deputy Davis and see how he found the rope. I should have asked.

I climb down. Turn to see if I can see the body and end up falling on Davis. I climb over several big boulders and see a bare foot like Boyd said. Why was he climbing over the boulders? I’ll have to ask him.

I fast-forward. I envision Davis video conferencing with Larsen.

Lift face. Skin. Pale. Blue-white. Lips deep blue. Eyes open. Blue or hazel. Staring at me. Early twenties. Contusions on cheeks. Black circles around both eyes.

I forgot the racoon eyes. Blunt trauma to the head or face causes that.

Split lips.

Ligature marks on both wrists, both ankles, throat. Dark blue. Deep bruising.

I fast-forward again. Crime scene deputies are putting her in the body bag.

I notice the ligature mark around her neck isn’t dark blue. It’s black. Deep tissue.

At boat ramp. The body is on the stretcher.

Petechiae are present in the eyes. Strangled.

No rigor. Hands are bagged.

Captain Marvel and Floyd roll the body to her side for Larsen.

Lump on back of neck. Not a lump. Something cut to the bone. Half a square in shape.

Wider than ligature. A buckle. Ligature was a collar? Belt? Inch wide? Livor mortis is fixed in her back, buttocks, shoulders, but not her arms.

She was lying on her back after death, but her arms were not stretched out like we found her. The arms must have been suspended above the body. Not touching anything. How is that possible?

Handcuffs? Wrists still handcuffed?

I zone back in and Ronnie is talking. It’s nothing important or even about the case. She is complaining about issues with her parents and yada yada. I tune her out and concentrate on what else I saw before the body was placed in the back of the coroner’s van.

I watch Jerry Larsen with the stretcher at the top of the boat ramp.

The body bag is laid on the stretcher. Larsen unzips it. I’m thinking how uncomfortable being zipped up in that bag must be.

Then: “She’s dead. She doesn’t feel a thing.”

I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies. Made a few that way. I was never concerned for the ones I killed. I hope those assholes suffered after death and burn in hell. My heart goes out to this victim. I don’t know anything about her. Yet.

Larsen is examining the body. I am too.

Stretch marks on her lower abdomen.

Similar stretch marks on her upper thighs, and when they roll her to the side, I see them on her lower buttocks.

Lost weight? Had a child?

Deep tissue bruising on her upper chest, back, and the right side of her jaw, around both eyes. Some the size of a big fist. Some on her arms and cheeks like fingermarks. She was grabbed by the face.

Some are older injuries that were healing. She was held captive awhile.

The split lip is more recent. I didn’t open her mouth to see if teeth were missing. I didn’t have to.

The marks encircling her wrists are narrow but deep indentations. Skin was abraded from struggling. Handcuffs. Not likely steel cable or nylon rope. Autopsy will show.

Deep blue bruises encircling ankles in shape of chain links. Reminds me of chain used to hold up a porch swing. Or tie a dog outside. Or chain someone to something. I’ve seen that. Can’t unsee it.

One other thing passes through my mind. I didn’t see any rings or jewelry or signs of it. White circles where rings would have been. She might not have been married.

My phone rings. It’s Davis.

“Ma’am, I found something.”

Do I have to ask? I guess so.

“What did you find, Deputy Davis?”

“I tripped over a rock and there was something scratched into the bottom of it.”

“Okay.”

“It looks like some kind of devil worship symbol. I’m not good with that stuff.”

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