She left both men and approached slowly, reverently. Yes, the body had been washed clean. Of that, she was already certain. She knelt beside him and carefully brushed the snow from his forehead. Without leaning forward, she saw the smudge of oily liquid. It smeared his blue lips and left another smudge between the X over his heart.
He seemed so fragile, so vulnerable, she wanted to cover him, protect him from the snow that glittered on his gray skin, covering the nasty red-raw slashes and gaping wounds.
He had been out here for a while. Even the sudden cold couldn’t disguise the smell. She noticed small puncture marks on the inside of his left thigh, deep but leaving no trace of blood. They had been made after the boy was dead. Perhaps an animal, she thought as she dug out a small flashlight. The punctures were definitely teeth, but human teeth, she realized, overlapping several times as though bitten in a madness or purposely to disguise the imprint. They were close to the groin, but she couldn’t see any marks on the penis. He hadn’t done this before. The killer was adding to his routine, getting reckless and accelerating. He had only taken the boy two days ago. Something had changed. Maybe the news reports were making him nervous. Something was different. Something was wrong.
She sat back on her feet, suddenly dizzy and a bit nauseated. She never got sick at crime scenes anymore. In fact, years ago when she stopped vomiting at the sight and smell of dead bodies, she had seen it as an initiation passage. Had Albert Stucky dismantled her defense system, punctured her armor? Or had his evil simply made her human again? Retaught her to feel?
She started to crawl back to her feet when she noticed it. A torn piece of paper peeked from between the tiny fingers. Matthew Tanner had something clutched tightly in his fist. She glanced over her shoulder. Nick and Hal stood where she had left them. Their backs were turned to her as they watched five men in FBI windbreakers descend the wooded ridge.
As gently as possible, she twisted the fingers, now stiff and unbending in the advance stages of rigor mortis. She dislodged the crumpled piece of paper. It was thicker than paper and no more than a torn corner. Without even examining it closely, she recognized what it was. Just hours ago she had seen dozens spread out on Timmy Hamilton’s bed. Twisted tightly in Matthew Tanner’s fist was the corner of a baseball card, and Maggie was pretty sure she knew whom it belonged to.
Chapter 33
The forensic team worked quickly, now threatened by a new enemy. Snow fell more heavily and in large, wet flakes, covering leaves and branches, sticking to grass and burying valuable evidence.
Maggie and Nick were huddled near the tree line, out of the wind’s merciless path. Maggie couldn’t believe how cold it had become. She dug her hands deep into her jacket pockets, trying not to wrinkle the photo she had borrowed from Timmy. She and Nick watched in silence as they waited for Hal to bring a blanket, extra jackets, anything to warm them. They stood so close Nick’s shoulder brushed against her. She felt his breath against her neck, reassuring her that she could still feel despite the numbness.
“Maybe we should just head back.” It was cold enough to see his breath. “There’s nothing more we can do here.” Nick rubbed his arms, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She could hear the soft chatter of his teeth.
“Do you want me to go with you to Michelle Tanner’s?” She pulled her jacket collar up. It didn’t help. The cold had invaded every inch of her body.
“Tell me if you think this is a cop-out.” He hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “I’d like to wait until morning, not just because I’d be waking her up in the middle of the night. She probably hasn’t slept since Sunday. But it might be a while before they get him to the morgue. And no matter how painful it is, she’ll want to see him. Laura Alverez insisted on identifying Danny. She wouldn’t believe me until she saw him herself.” His eyes were watery blue from the wind and the memory. He wiped a sleeve across his face.
“It’s not a cop-out. It certainly makes sense. In the morning she may have more people there to lean on. And you’re right. By the time they get finished here, it will be morning.”
“I’ll let these guys know we’re leaving.”
He started for the forensic team when Maggie saw something and grabbed his arm. Not more than fifteen feet behind Nick was a set of footprints-bare footprints, freshly stamped in the snow.
“Nick, wait,” she whispered. “He’s here.” Her heart started pounding in her ears. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Of course, it made perfect sense.
“What are you talking about?”
“The killer. He’s here.” She held his arm, digging her nails into the denim jacket to immobilize him and to steady her nerves. Her eyes surveyed the area while she tried to keep her body from twisting and turning, from tipping off the, killer who she knew was watching them.
“Do you see him?”
“No, but he’s here,” she said, carefully glancing around now, making sure he wasn’t within earshot. “Try to stay calm and keep your voice down. He could be watching us.”
“O’Dell, I think the cold has frozen your brain.” Nick looked at her as though he thought she was nuts, but he obeyed her instructions and spoke softly. “There’s over two dozen deputies and police officers surrounding this area.”
“Directly behind you, next to that tree with the huge knot. There’s a set of footprints, bare footprints made in the snow.”
She loosened her grip, allowing him to look.
“Jesus.” His eyes darted around before they made their way back to hers. “With the snow falling as heavy as it is, those were made recently, very recently. Like, say, minutes ago. The son of a bitch may have been right behind us. What the hell do we do?”
“You stay here. Wait for Hal. I’ll head up the path like I’m going back to the cars. He must still be inside the perimeter of your people. He shouldn’t be able to get out without going past one of them. From up above I might be able to see him.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, he’ll notice if he’s watching. Wait for Hal. I’ll need the two of you as backup. Stay calm and try not to look around.”
“How will we know where you are?”
“I’ll let you know somehow.” She kept her voice calm and even, while the adrenaline began to surge. “I’ll fire my gun into the air. Just don’t let any of your men shoot me.”
“Like I can control that.”
“I’m not joking, Morrelli.”
“Neither am I.”
She glanced up at him. He wasn’t joking, and for a moment she realized how stupid it might be to sneak around in a woods filled with armed police. But if the killer was still here, she couldn’t hesitate. And he was here. He was watching. She could feel it. This was part of his ritual.
She started up the path. Her leather flats were caked with snow, making the climb even more slippery. She grabbed at branches, tree roots, and vines. Within minutes she was out of breath. The adrenaline pumped through her veins, propelling her numb body.
A branch snapped off in her hands, sending her skidding. She slammed to a stop, ramming her hip into a tree. Her hands were raw with cold, but she crawled back to her feet, digging her fingers into the bark. She was almost to the perimeter. She could hear the crime-scene tape flapping in the wind. Just above her, she heard voices.
The ground finally leveled enough for her to stand without assistance. She veered off the path and headed into the thick brush. From above she could see Nick at the bottom of the tree line. Hal was just joining him. Between the trees and the river, the forensic team worked quickly, hunching over the small body and filling little plastic bags of evidence. They were bringing out special equipment from their backpacks to deal with the accumulating snow. Behind them, beyond the cattails and tall grass, she could see the black waters of the river churning with motion.