EXCERPT “Well, our little vacation has come to a screeching halt.” Jim DeVilla lifted the sheet and turned to Mort when he joined him in the wooded ravine. The deep and narrow valley looked like the perfect spot for a weekend hiking challenge. But four police cruisers throwing a blue and red light show on the handful of forensic officers announced this quiet parcel of paradise was now a crime scene. “Looks like I’m gonna have to cancel that salsa-dancing class.”
Mort, Seattle’s chief of detectives, didn’t react to his friend’s humor. He stared down at the body and thought how beautiful she looked. Like she lay down after a picnic and decided to take a nap, he thought. Her long blonde hair had the tousled look of someone who had spent the morning exploring this lush part of the forest. The faint tinge of blue on her lips and eyelids seemed eerily in keeping with her pale complexion. She’s just a kid. I’ll bet she’s hardly old enough to buy a beer. He heaved a sigh. What do I know about anything? They all look young these days. He spoke to a wiry man kneeling next to the body and jotting notes with gloved hands.
“What d’ya got, Doc?”
Tyler Conner shook his head. “I’ll know more once I get her back to the morgue.” Dr. Conner used his pen to trace a slice on the dead woman’s neck. “This wasn’t the fatal cut. It looks worse than it is. Somebody was taking their time. She’s got dozens of these superficial wounds.” He lifted the hem of her blood-soaked dress. Mort noted the shiny fabric. Whoever she was, this girl wasn’t dressed for a day in the woods.
“This is what killed her.” Dr. Conner pointed to a deep gash on the upper thigh. “Femoral artery. Deep and clean enough to make me suspect some sort of surgical instrument. She would have bled out in less than two minutes.”
Mort’s jaw tightened. “This happen here?”
Conner shook his head. “Her dress soaked up blood, sure enough. But look at the ground. Not a drop. It hasn’t rained in days. The grass is dry. See her shoes?” Mort and Jimmy both followed his direction to catch a glimpse of the dead woman’s strappy footwear.
“No mud,” Jimmy said. “I peg her at about one-ten, maybe one hundred fifteen pounds.” He looked up the ravine wall to where four uniformed officers leaned against their squad cars. “If she walked down here, she’d have driven those spike heels deep into the ground. More than likely broken ’em off. Somebody carried her in.”
Mort agreed. “You got an estimate to when this happened?”
“It was balmy last night. Nothing that should have messed with my reading of the body’s core temperature. She’s been dead no more than eight hours. Probably a half hour less than that. Again, I’ll know more once I get her back to the shop.”
Mort looked at his watch. Ten minutes after eight on a beautiful June morning. Whoever this lovely young woman was died somewhere around midnight last night.
“We got an ID?” Mort asked Jimmy.
“We should get so lucky. No personal effects anywhere that we can see. But I took some quick prints,” DeVilla answered. “Sent Micki and Bruiser back to run ’em. Hopefully, we’ll get a hit. Sent her with a couple of photos, too.”
“Face? Dress?” Mort asked.
Jim DeVilla shrugged. “Pretty routine for the most part.”
“For the most part?”
Mort stepped forward for a closer look at the decorative red circle tattooed on the inside of the dead girl’s wrist. “Looks like a couple of eagles to me.”
“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “Either that or a bird with two heads. You ever see anything like that before?”
Something teased at the back of his brain. He tried to focus but couldn’t catch it. “Family crest, maybe?” He looked again. “Looks like it might be some sort of official emblem.”
“Well.” Jim DeVilla lowered the woman’s arm and stood. “It sure as hell wasn’t her good luck charm.”
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