“OK.” West turned the mic back on. “What can you tell us?”
“This morning at approximately nine o’clock, the deceased body of a man was found near the boat ramp in Grey Lake. There was no identification on the body. The sheriff’s department will assist the medical examiner in any way to determine the identity of the deceased as quickly as possible.”
“Do you know if the victim was murdered?”
“Cause of death will be determined by the medical examiner, but we are conducting a full investigation. I’ll hold a press conference as soon as I have more information.”
He pulled the mic back. “Is this body related to this morning’s shooting at Grey Lake Campground?”
The mic was in Bree’s face before she could think, but she took the time to choose her words carefully. “At this time, we have not officially established a connection between the two incidents.”
“But you were investigating the shooting when you found the body?”
“Yes.” Bree kept her expression neutral, but a small spark of anger fanned inside her. Nick would only know that information if someone in law enforcement had told him. She squelched her irritation. Leaks in her department were not the reporter’s fault. Bree was responsible for the behavior of her team. “But, at this time, we do not know if the two incidents are connected or coincidental.”
“Is it possible that the remains belong to the shooting victim?” West asked.
“No.” Bree shook her head. “The remains have been in the lake too long.”
“Is it true there’s an eyewitness to this morning’s shooting?”
Bree froze, and her poker face felt twitchy. “I can’t comment on an active investigation.”
How did he know that?
Her department leaked like a colander.
“Excuse me, I need to get back to work,” she said.
“Thanks, Sheriff.” West lowered his microphone.
Bree gave him a slight nod and returned to her scene. She found Todd, and he drove them back to the cabin. Once there, she stopped at her SUV and drank the cold dregs of her coffee with the protein bar she’d left in the center console. She needed the calories, but the food left her nauseated. She found a water bottle in her vehicle and took a few minutes to hydrate.
She found Todd talking to a deputy. She walked over for a status report on the scene.
The deputy pointed toward cabins nineteen and twenty. “We’re almost finished with the outside areas. We’ll do inside the cabins next.”
With snow coming, they’d prioritized the outdoor portions of the scene.
“We’ll do number twenty.” Bree gestured to Todd, turned, and went up the steps into the cabin. Todd followed her into the main room. They tugged on gloves. Bree slid her camera from her pocket and began taking pictures of the sleeping bag and backpack in front of the fireplace. The fire had long since cooled to ashes.
“When that fireplace is blazing, this room is probably nice and warm,” Todd said.
“There are worse places for a homeless person to sleep,” Bree agreed.
Away from the fireplace, Bree detected a faint chemical smell. She circled the kitchen, opening drawers and doors, all empty except for some general cleaning products in a bag under the kitchen sink: paper towels, cleaning rags, spray cleaner, Comet, and dishwashing liquid. Bree lifted a rag with one finger and sniffed it, then she smelled the spray cleaner. Same odor. Squatters who cleaned were rare.
Next she checked the fridge. Nothing. No point in using it since the power was off. Except for the area in front of the fireplace, the cabin appeared undisturbed.
Bree wandered into the bedroom. “It seems they only used the one room.”
Todd followed her. “There’s only one fireplace.”
“True.”
“What are we looking for?” Todd asked.
“I don’t know,” Bree admitted. “Anything that looks out of place.”
“Are we even sure a crime was committed here? The body could be unrelated.”
“We have a witness who reported a shooting and a body discovered less than a mile away from the cabin. Something happened here.”
But what?
There was no proof the body was related to the shooting at the cabin. Only Brody’s sense of smell linked the two scenes. She needed to keep an open mind. Todd lifted the mattress and checked under it. Bree went to the other side of the bed, knelt, and checked underneath with her flashlight. Nothing but dust bunnies. Todd pulled the bed out and inspected behind the headboard.
Bree tapped her flashlight in her opposite palm.
Todd slid the bed back into place, stepped back, and surveyed the room. “Maybe there’s nothing to find in the cabin.”
“Maybe not,” Bree agreed. “The girls are homeless and streetwise. They trespassed, broke into the cabin, and illegally occupied it. They wouldn’t unpack and get comfortable. They’d keep their stuff handy.”
“Ready to bolt at any time.”
“Right.”
“Let’s get fingerprints.” Bree turned in a circle. The cabin was small, and there wasn’t much to search. “Maybe one of the girls will be in AFIS.” The Automated Fingerprint Identification System would match found prints against a pool of fingerprint records. Bree opened the closet door. The narrow space inside was as empty as the rest of the cabin.
Bree headed for the door. “We need background checks on Alyssa Vincent and her friend, Harper Scott. Also check the contacts and activity on Alyssa’s phone.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll need to call the owner of the campground.”
“I have his number.” Todd read it to her. “His name is Phil Dunlop.”
Bree entered it into her phone. No one answered, and she left a message. Then she exited through the front door.
Another deputy was walking behind the cabin, looking for evidence on the ground. Bree had called in additional officers, but she was running out of personnel.
“How much ground have you covered?” Bree asked.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “We searched the area behind the cabins. We didn’t find anything but the footprints you already saw. We photographed and mapped them. Starting on cabin nineteen now.”
“Keep at it. Let the chief deputy know when you’re done.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Bree walked behind the cabins. She wanted one more look at the shooting scene in broad daylight. She strode across the snow past the cluster of evergreens to the frozen lake. The sun peeked through the clouds. Its rays glittered on the ice. Wait. That was more than ice. Bree hurried closer. The clouds passed in front of the sun again, but not before she spotted something shiny. Bree crouched and scanned the ice, spotting two small pieces of brass.
A deputy trudged over. “What did you find?”
“Shell casings.” Bree took out her phone and photographed the casings and their relative positions. She recorded their GPS location with her phone. Finally, she used tweezers to put the casings in an evidence bag.
Straightening, she shoved the bag into her pocket. She had evidence that a gun was fired at the cabin. Now all she needed was a body and a shooter.