“Boss!” yelled one of the employees. “Hey, boss!” the man yelled again, more urgently.
One by one, the booming sound of engines ceased, leaving the area strangely quiet.
“Yeah,” Bob said as one of his men jogged up to him. “What is it?”
“We can’t get the crowd to leave.”
“What crowd?” he growled and craned his neck to see half a dozen people with handmade signs saying “Keep the Elm Hill Mansion” and “Keep the historical house” headed their way. “Oh, brother. Get them out of here,” he barked. “We have a job to do! I’m not going to get behind because of a group of idiots.”
“But what if they don’t leave?” asked the worker, looking at the crowd with a worried expression.
“Then… call the cops.”
At the same time, one of the bulldozer drivers jumped from his cab and ran toward them. His face pale, panic in his eyes. “Boss!” he yelled as he increased speed. “BOSS!”
“Crap,” the foreman muttered. “Now what?” he snapped as the driver ran over to him.
“There’s… it’s…”
“Spit it out, Chris… tell me what’s going on.”
“We found… it’s horrible, sir…”
Bramble grabbed Chris’s arm and gave him a little shake. “Show me. We don’t have time for this shit.”
The men hurried to the far side of the property where several trenches had been dug. Two other workers were standing side by side staring down the hillside—not moving.
“What’s going on here?” Bramble demanded.
One of the men slowly pointed his index finger without saying a word.
Bramble stepped to the edge of the pit and peered downward.
Submerged in the muddy earth, and surrounded by puddles of water, lay the naked body of a young woman—her pale skin like porcelain in the early morning light. Lying on her left side, arms twisted precariously, one in front of her bent body and the other behind. She looked like a broken doll that had been carelessly tossed away. The remnants of a rope dangled from her left wrist. Her long chestnut hair, wet and knotted around her face, covered her frozen expression.
Bramble couldn’t tear his eyes away from the body as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud and illuminated her fragile form in a natural spotlight. “Stop working…” His voice caught in his throat. “Stop. Everybody STOP!” He waved his hands, turning around to get everyone’s attention. “Stop working. Everybody exit the property now! Now!”
Bramble had never seen a dead body before and the young woman looked painfully close to his own daughter’s age. As his team downed tools and headed for the parking area, he bent down closer to the body, carefully moving down the hillside, and strained to see if he recognized her, searching for anything around her that might identify her.
Slipping his hand into his pocket, he stood up, swallowed hard and composed himself—still not fully believing what he was seeing. He knew enough from watching true crime shows on TV to keep the area clear to avoid contaminating the crime scene, but all he could do now was dial 911.
Two
Monday 0805 hours
Detective Katie Scott kept her pace as she weaved around several clusters of trees on the rural hiking path. Her long dark hair, tied back in a ponytail, swung in time with her fast stride. The cool morning air filled her lungs. It was the part of the day she loved the most; fresh and clear. The forest around her clung to the incredible scent of the mountains after the rain and the leaves were beginning to turn brown. Summer was nearly over and the fall season was fast approaching.
Dressed in dark navy running pants and a lavender hoodie, she could feel the perspiration trickle down the back of her neck. The contrast of hot and cold invigorated her and she pushed her pace even harder until she reached a lookout area at the top of the track with a magnificent view of the valley.
There she waited—still moving her limbs to help keep the blood flowing, catching her breath and enjoying the beautiful pattern the trees, peaks, and valleys formed. The landscape was lit up by the early sun in a stunning canvas of orange and green. A few predatory birds glided around her, searching out small mammals.
It was the perfect way to contemplate what the day would bring, but her mind was never far from her time in Afghanistan as a K9 explosives handler. Nothing would ever totally block those memories—both good and bad—but she was now learning how to cope.
She tried to cope every day. To survive. Taking deep slow breaths, Katie felt her pulse returning to normal.
“Hey,” came a man’s voice lagging up the trail behind her.
Katie turned and smiled. “What took you so long?” she replied lightly.
“You’re not the one carrying an extra fifteen to twenty pounds. You left me in the dust. Partners don’t do that,” huffed Deputy Sean McGaven.
“You asked me to help with your training. I’m not going to hold your hand,” she said with a laugh.
“Yeah, well, in case you haven’t noticed this isn’t the army, no matter what your credentials say.” He stopped beside Katie, towering over her with his six-foot six-inch height in matching sweats and hoodie. His complexion was ruddy and his light red hair closely cropped. With his hands firmly set on his hips, he waited for his breathing to return to normal.
“You’re doing just fine,” she said. “Really.”
“Oh great, that’s encouraging, just before my heart attack.”
“You’re not going to have a heart attack. It’s always hard to get back into running again.”
He turned and enjoyed the view for a moment. “This detective work has kept me confined to an office too much. And…” He hesitated. “Being in the hospital laid up for over a week didn’t help. And for some reason, desk work makes me extra hungry. So,” he gestured to his stomach area.
Katie stretched her calves and hamstrings. “Don’t forget Denise’s fantastic cooking.” She laughed. Denise worked as a supervisor in the sheriff’s department’s records division—and McGaven had been dating her for more than six months.
He didn’t respond immediately, still thinking about it. “You might have a point there,” he joked.
“Don’t forget to stretch, regularly,” she stressed. “And it doesn’t hurt to have a good soak before bed—you might want to use some Epsom salts too. It does wonders for aching muscles and joints. That way, you won’t feel so stiff in the morning. Run every other day so that your body can have twenty-four hours of recovery.”
He followed her lead and began stretching his legs too. “I hear you.”
Katie was lucky—at least that’s the way she thought about it. She was working as a detective at a job she loved. When she had returned to Pine Valley after her army tours were over, she was uncertain of what she was going to do next. Return to Sacramento Police Department and work patrol, take some time off, or work cold cases for the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department. She chose the latter and was given the opportunity to head the cold-case unit—a newly formed department—and Deputy McGaven was pulled from patrol to assist. It was the best decision she had ever made.