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The art gallery spilled over to the bathroom with a border of flowers and cupids painted on the wallpaper and a mirror that looked fit for a wood sprite, with carved leaves and flowers curling around its edges.
Jim soaped up his hand and removed the blood. He didn’t want to mess up any of Scarlett’s artfully placed towels with residual blood, so he plucked a couple of tissues from the box and wiped off his hands just in case. He dropped them in the toilet and flushed.
He hunched forward, studying his reflection in the mirror, and grimaced. How the hell had he gotten mixed up with a dead body his first week back in Timberline? Not exactly the way to keep a low profile.
When he returned to the front room, he interrupted Scarlett reenacting the moment when the man grabbed her ankle.
“So, I kicked out, fell on the ground and screamed, just not sure of the order of those actions.”
Unger turned to him, his notebook in hand. “That’s when you returned? When you heard Scarlett scream?”
“I ran back, she pointed out the body and I felt his pulse and his chest.” He wiped his damp hand on his jeans. “That’s how I got his blood on me. I felt for a pulse first and listened for his breath, too. He was dead.”
“You ever had any CPR training, Kennedy?” Unger tapped his pencil against his pad.
“Six years as an army ranger sniper. I know the signs of a dead body when I see ’em, and I know when it’s too late to render aid.”
As he held Unger’s gaze, he heard Scarlett’s sharp intake of breath.
A slow smile spread across Unger’s face. “I guess you know what you’re doing. Did either of you recognize him?”
“I didn’t get a good look at his face and Scarlett didn’t see his face at all. He had a beard. I felt that when I listened for his breath.”
Scarlett asked, “Did you recognize him, Cody? You looked at his face, didn’t you?”
“Older guy, beard, long, reddish hair. I haven’t seen him around, but the conditions out in the woods are not optimal for identifying a body.” He shoved his notebook in his pocket. “I got your stories. If I have any other questions, I’ll let you know. It could just be an accident. I don’t know yet what caused his wound, but if it turns out to be homicide, we’ll call in the boys from county and they might have additional questions for you.”
Jim followed Unger to the front door and stepped out onto the porch with him. Scarlett tagged along, slinging her jacket over her shoulders. Did she plan to go out again?
Unger pointed to the trees crowding close to Scarlett’s cabin. “You should get those removed, Scarlett. Most cabins out here have some sort of clearing around them. I don’t know why the Butlers never did it when they had the place.”
“It’s one of the features that drew me to the cabin—the privacy. I need it for my work.”
Jim crossed his arms. “Don’t artists need natural light?”
“Not for the kind of work I do.”
He knew nothing about art or artists, except the kind that did tattoos, so he’d keep his mouth shut.
Scarlett gasped and grabbed his arm. “They’re bringing him out.”
Peering through the trees that ringed Scarlett’s property, Jim could make out the EMTs wheeling a gurney from the woods onto the access road.
They all made their way down the path, through the trees, and stopped short of the gurney at the mouth of the ambulance doors. The EMTs had yanked the white sheet over the dead man’s face.
One of the guys turned to Unger. “Looks like he succumbed to a stab wound to the chest—multiple stab wounds.”
Scarlett swayed beside him, and Jim put a steadying arm around her shoulders. “Did it happen here, on Scarlett’s property?”
The EMT shrugged. “I can’t tell. That’s for those deputies thrashing around out there to figure out.”
Unger whistled. “I’ll call Sheriff Musgrove right away. We’re going to need county out here now.”
“Should we wait for the county coroner?”
“Take him to the morgue at the hospital. The county coroner can work there.”
Unger turned to go back into the woods and Jim held up his hand to stop him. “Is Scarlett safe here? The guy could’ve been murdered twenty-five yards from her front door.”
