“You gonna be all right?”
Ben nodded. He’d been sick-right after he’d gotten his first glimpse of the grotesque, blood-soaked corpse pinioned to the treetops. It was Tess all right, but nothing like the Tess he had met a few days before. This atrocity was more rag doll than human being.
He’d tried to contain himself, but to no avail. “Sorry. I don’t normally react this way.”
“Ben,” Allen said, “there is no normal for something like this. It’s not a normal situation.”
Shortly thereafter, the rest of the crime team arrived. They began the deliberate process of collecting evidence, trying to find any trace of the monster who had done this.
The worst lot fell to the two men from the coroner’s office. They were supposed to recover the body. But how? Could they pry her loose? The standard coroner’s bag didn’t include a claw hammer.
“We can’t just leave her like this,” Allen said bitterly. “Go back and find something that will do the job.”
The coroner’s men did as they were told. Ben noticed they didn’t seem all that upset to be leaving the crime scene. But then, who would be?
Eventually, the coroner’s team returned with ladders, heavy-duty prying equipment, and two more burly-looking associates. Ben didn’t envy them in the least. The task they had before them was so gruesome he couldn’t watch. He didn’t even want to think about it.
The next two hours were spent photographing the crime scene and collecting trace evidence. Ben hung around, hoping the investigators might turn up something he could use at trial. One thing was certain: Tess was not killed by George Zakin, who had been behind bars when this murder occurred. Granny would no doubt claim that there were two different murderers at work. But if Ben could prove both killings were the work of the same killer, it would prove the killer wasn’t Zak.
And-more disturbingly-it would prove that the true killer was still at large.
“I can’t say that I see any connection between the two crimes at all,” Sheriff Allen said, taking a short break from supervising the crime-scene detail. “The previous murder was of a logger. This victim was a Green Rager.”
“You’re assuming the motive is linked to the tree-cutting dispute,” Ben said. “But what if it isn’t? What if it’s about something altogether different?”
“Like what?”
“If I knew that, this would be a very short trial. Unfortunately, I don’t.”
“You’re just speculating, Ben.”
“Maybe. But look at it this way. By all appearances, this crime was committed by someone in the logging camp. Someone free, on the loose, and capable of murder. Presumably, that person was around when Dwayne Gardiner was killed, too. So who’s to say this sick bastard might not have committed the first murder?”
“I don’t agree that it appears this crime was committed by a logger. I’ve grown up with loggers. Most of them are good, calm, decent men. This could just as easily have been done by one of your terrorist pals.”
“Why?”
“How should I know? Maybe they had an internal dispute. Some fight for power or authority. I hear these terrorist groups spend half their time squabbling among themselves.”
“Green Rage is not a terrorist group.”
“Or maybe someone did it to throw suspicion on the loggers. Try to get your man Zakin off the hook.”
Ben frowned. It was theoretically possible, he supposed. Disturbing, but possible.
“Thanks for inviting me out here,” Ben said. “I probably won’t sleep for weeks. But I needed to know what was happening.”
“No thanks necessary. No matter what you think, the local law intends to give everyone a fair shake.”
“I wish everyone in this town shared your intent. You think some of your men could give me a ride back to town?”
“Yep. You can ride in the coroner’s truck.”
Ben winced.
“Don’t worry. They’ll have room for you up front.”
Well, that was a relief, anyway. “Thanks again, Sheriff. If there’s ever anything I can do for you …”
A sheepish grin came over the man’s face. “Well, you could put in a good word for me with that legal assistant of yours.”
Ben nodded. Yes, he certainly could. And probably should.
But would he?
That was the question.