The murder scene appeared to be ritualistic. Although violent, it was not a crime of passion. There was only the one knife mark. If it had been personal, there most likely would have been multiple stab wounds. Whoever had murdered her was methodical, had meticulously planned out the kill. The back of Ellie’s neck prickled as she snapped another photograph. The ritualistic nature suggested that he might have killed before.
And that he would certainly kill again.
Nine
Ellie was relieved when she finally heard footsteps and voices echoing through the dense mass of red oaks and ash trees, flashlights flickering through the dark.
Cord led the team, his smoky eyes dark with wariness as he broke through the clearing. He was the best tracker in these parts, saving countless lives over the years.
His gaze locked with hers as he took in the scene. The ERT investigators paused, assessing silently, and Dr. Laney Whitefeather, the Medical Examiner, pressed a fist against her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. “Jesus, poor baby.”
The male investigator began roping off the area with crime scene tape while the female, Sydney, pulled a camera from her pack. “I’ll start photographing while you do your thing, Dr. Whitefeather,” she said.
“I didn’t see any ID on her, but like I said, I haven’t touched her,” Ellie said. “Keep an eye out in case the killer dumped her purse or ID here somewhere.”
Sydney surveyed the area. “Do you think she was killed here?”
Ellie pursed her lips in thought, then shined the flashlight across the rocks and weeds. “No. With her throat slashed, there would have been blood spatter. She was killed somewhere else, then the bastard cleaned her up, dressed her, and brought her out here.”
Laney’s face was ashen. “How did you find her?”
“I’ve been hiking since yesterday, planned to pitch a tent by the pond tonight, then noticed the flowers in the wind. When I crossed the creek, there she was.” She gestured toward the ground. “So far, there are no definitive footprints, although the rain could have washed them away.”
Laney donned gloves and boot covers, then picked her way across the damp grass.
“How long do you think she’s been here?” Cord asked.
“Hard to say with the cooler temperatures last night and this morning.”
Laney used a flashlight to examine the woman’s neck. “Initially, it appears she died of exsanguination; blood loss caused from having her throat slit. Although that’s not official. We’ll have to wait until I do the autopsy to determine exact cause of death, time of death, and whether or not she was drugged or sustained other injuries before she died.” She gestured toward the clothing and makeup. “What do you make of this?”
Ellie shrugged. “The garish makeup has to mean something. Maybe he wanted to downplay her beauty because she’d wronged him somehow.”
Laney shivered.
As disturbing as it was to dig into the mind of a killer, knowing what made him tick was essential to uncovering his identity and motive, to predict his next step. “His MO reads like a repeat killer.”
Laney examined the woman’s hands and wrists, and then her eyes, which were still open. “No petechial hemorrhaging.” With gloved fingers she inched the woman’s face left and right, noting slight bruising on her jaws. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and pull a partial print or some DNA on her throat or clothing.” She lifted one pale hand to examine it. “It looks like he cut her fingernails. Probably to eliminate evidence. But I’ll try.”
The sound of the workers combing the area echoed around them while Laney continued her initial exam, careful not to smear the blood-red lipstick as she used her fingers to open the woman’s mouth. A gasp escaped her before she looked up at Ellie.
“What is it?” Ellie asked.
An odd look crossed Laney’s face. “The bastard sewed her lips shut.”
Ten
“He sewed her lips closed?” Ellie asked, swallowing hard. “Like a mortician would?”
“Exactly,” Laney said, nodding.
Ellie glanced at Cord, noticed an odd look on his face. But his radio crackled, and he walked over to a boulder several feet away to answer the call.
“That gives the MO a new meaning.” Ellie’s mind raced. Instead of dressing the women for an outing or church, the killer dressed and posed his victim for burial.
The realization made her skin crawl.
“Then we might be dealing with someone experienced in preparing dead bodies for burial or cremation.” Ellie thought out loud.
“That’s possible.” A frown marred Laney’s face. “Only, he left her eyes untouched, whereas a mortician would have glued her eyelids closed as well.” Laney stood, pushing her glasses up with the back of her hand. “Although with the internet, El, anyone who wanted to know about preparing a body could find that information.”
“True. He could just be some psycho intrigued by the death process. Or necrophilia. Or hell, he might have sewn her mouth closed because he didn’t want her to talk.”
“I’ll definitely look for signs of sexual abuse, both pre- and postmortem.” Laney gestured at the woman’s throat. “There’s a small line of bruising that may indicate he strangled her. Although this doesn’t look like rope burns. Maybe something else.”
Ellie winced at the thick, deep bruising. “Get me her prints right away. I need to notify the family and question them.”
Laney nodded.
“Meanwhile, I’ll search for other crimes bearing a similar MO.”
“You think he’s done this before?” asked Laney.
Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know, but this type of display took planning and a certain kind of pathology. It wasn’t just a crime of opportunity.”
Special Agent Derrick Fox would be the best source for information on other similar cases, she thought, as the breeze swirled dead leaves and daffodil petals around her muddy boots. But Derrick Fox was the last person on earth she wanted anything to do with.
The memory of the last time she’d seen him taunted her. She’d stood on the periphery of a graveyard as he and his mother said their final goodbyes to Derrick’s little sister, Kim, the first girl Hiram had murdered.
Derrick had come to Crooked Creek with the theory of a serial killer, opening her eyes to the truth about her father. He blamed Randall for closing Kim’s case too soon, then later for keeping suspicions about Hiram from the police. She and Derrick had spent a heated night together in the mountains during the investigation—and then he’d accused her of sleeping with him to distract him, so she could protect her dad.
He’d been right about everything except the latter. But it didn’t matter now. He hated her and her family––and she could hardly blame him.
She’d do some research on her own, she told herself. Meanwhile, she watched as the crime team scoured the area and Laney finished her initial exam.
Cord returned, frowning. “I have to go. There’s trouble over at Rattlesnake Ridge.”
“What kind of trouble?” Ellie asked.
“Couple of hikers lost their footing and one broke his ankle.” He took off on the path south, and Ellie followed Laney down the mountain, where Laney drove Ellie to her Jeep.