He motioned for her to get on with it. “You are aware that I was here for the first and second evidence sweeps. Or did you sleep through those?”
“Just bear with me, partner.” A twinkle of you’ll-see in her eyes, she turned to the yellow tape boundary. “But what our killer did leave was all the needles and crap we understand was relevant to the vic in some way. As if he was showing us a snapshot of how she lived her life.”
Braddock’s fingers tightened into fists as those snapshots flashed across his retinas, one stark view at a time. Shelley Patterson with dozensof hypodermic syringes dangling from her skin. And that wasn’t the worst of it. The idea of just how far the piece of shit had gone with his this-is-your-life theme made Braddock’s gut clench even now.
Self-disgust expanded in his chest.
That young woman was dead because of him.
Cutting himself some slack, that was true only in part. Shelley Patterson was dead, he reminded himself, because of her association with a total scumbag.
That scumbag was going to pay ... for at least two of his crimes. Braddock wouldn’t stop until he’d gotten the job done.
“He was staging,” Cooper offered, her whole face gleaming with that I-think-I’m-onto-something glow.
“Staging, huh?” Braddock surveyed the scene. The two techs were almost finished with the third sweep. It wasn’t routine, but he’d pushed for this, called in a number of markers. An initial sweep had been done when the body was discovered. A second one early this morning just to make sure they hadn’t missed anything in the rain. Now, a third and final recheck by different techs for a fresh perspective.
Braddock turned to his partner. He’d been thinking along the same lines about the perp’s heinous presentation. “To send a message?” He knew all about the messages this bastard liked to send. Sounded like his partner was on the same track.
Cooper nodded, her pleased-with-herself smile stretching into a full-fledged grin. “He even signed his work.”
“Are you serious?” How had the techs missed something like that? His partner had to be speaking in figurative terms.
Cooper shoved a pair of shoe covers and gloves at him. “Hurry, I can’t wait for you to see.”
Protective wear in place, he lifted the tape for his partner, then ducked under it himself. The nylon rope that had been secured to a limb more than ten feet off the ground had been removed and taken to the lab with the body. The perp had apparently used lower limbs to climb high enough to hoist up the vic, then secured the rope, since therewere no markings to indicate a ladder had been used. Shelley Patterson wouldn’t have been able to climb into that tree without a ladder, even if Braddock had had any notions of labeling this a suicide. The plastic garbage can placed on its side a few inches from where her feet had dangled wouldn’t have provided the needed height. It was just another part of the staging.
Then again, the ground had been hard as a rock after the long weeks without rain. A ladder might not have left indentations. That was a hell of a lot of gear to haul to a scene. Had the bastard been completely unafraid of being caught?
Of course he had. He owned this territory.
For now.
Even more remarkably, Shelley’s wrists and ankles showed no ligature marks. Had she stood by and allowed her killer to prepare the noose for her own neck?
The tox screen had revealed no drugs in her system.
The other choice was that she’d been dead already. Braddock leaned toward that scenario. The bastard had killed her and then he’d staged this scene to send the cops—to send Braddock—a message.
Until the autopsy was completed, they wouldn’t know which one of the two was the most viable possibility. But considering the details he’d opted not to release to Shelley’s sister, Braddock hoped like hell the vic had been dead when this sick bastard did his dirty work.
Her death was already on Braddock’s conscience. The idea that she may have endured immeasurable suffering ... Well, he hoped that wasn’t the case.
Focus, pal. “Let’s see this amazing find,” he said to his partner.
She motioned for him to come closer to the tree. “Right up there.” Cooper adapted a Vanna White pose, directing his attention to the tree.
Braddock removed his sunglasses and tried to see what the hell she was talking about. It was the perfect hanging tree, that was true. Lots of nice, sturdy branches accessed reasonably easily from the groundwithout the aid of a ladder by someone tall enough and with enough upper-body strength.
“You can’t see it like that,” Cooper huffed. “You have to climb up there.”
Braddock shot her a look. “You climbed up there?”
She made an impatient sound. “Absolutely. I needed to see what the killer saw while he worked. You know, touch all the places he touched.”
That was another thing about his partner. She was a freak. “Okay, okay. I gotcha.”
He tossed his sunglasses to Cooper, grabbed a branch, and prepared to propel his body up onto the lowest limb.
