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“From what Rowley told me, none of the locals would come near the barn let alone venture down here. They believe this place is haunted.” Kane turned his head to face her, squinting in the bright lights. “The only person who doesn’t have a problem with the myth is Josh Rockford. He is a bully and knows the place. He has almost a cult following. If he and his friends are involved, they had plenty of time to kill her and clean up. I suggest you send Walters and Rowley to bring Rockford, Watts, and Beal in for questioning then impound their cars before they have them cleaned.” His dark eyebrows rose. “If Rockford is guilty, we’ll find DNA evidence. Whoever did this would have been drenched in blood and they’ll have traces of her DNA on them, and in their car.”
Jenna nodded in agreement. “We can hold them for seventy-two hours without charging them but the probable cause is weak. We don’t have a shred of evidence against any of them so I hope the forensics team find traces of DNA or we have zip. I’ll make sure Rowley asks the suspects to go with him to the station, then it’s voluntary.” She gaped at the pool of blood and her stomach cramped. “There’s so much blood. Looks like she bled to death. The killer didn’t have too much time to play out his fantasy; this looks like a rush job compared to John Helms’s injuries.”
“Maybe. What astounds me is how they managed to leave without leaving footprints.” His brow furrowed. “If she’d trusted me with her information, one phone call and I could have prevented this happening.”
“You gave her sound advice and told her you would check out all the leads. It was her choice to ignore you.” Jenna moved closer to the body, stepping with care between the rivulets of blood. She crouched behind Sarah’s battered corpse and surveyed the blood pattern. “Look here. The killer used something to spread the blood to smudge their footprints and here—” she pointed to a small fabric impression the size of a footprint in blood “—the killer used a second blanket or something to step onto to get out of the blood. A blanket would be big enough for them to stand on and wipe their feet. Maybe strip off, if they hadn’t already. If this was planned, the person or persons doing this could have been naked, stepped onto a blanket and wiped off most of the blood on a towel, even pulled on socks and walked out. Look, there’s a pile of blankets over there.” She waved a hand at a shelf above a sink. “Maybe one inflicted the injuries and another helped clean up.”
“So, more than one person?” Kane narrowed his gaze and peered at the ceiling. “Look at those marks on the ceiling: even size and spaced in bunches.” His Adam’s apple bobbed and he turned to look at Sarah for a long moment. “They used a stock whip on her. Those cuts on her back are similar to the marks on John Helms. It could be the same killer. He must have whipped her to discover the information in the letters. She isn’t bound, so I’d bet someone had a gun aimed on her.” He waved a hand toward the bunk beds. “I think you’re correct about the use of blankets. There is something missing from that bunk, something square. Can you make out the patch on the bed not covered with dust? All the beds have folded blankets and quilts. One pile is missing. I’d say that’s what they used. It would be easy to step out of the spatter and onto a blanket, then use it to smear the blood over any footprints. They could have wrapped the soiled towels and bloody blanket in a quilt and taken the evidence with them.” He narrowed his gaze. “Look to your right. Can you see those few drops of blood? I bet that’s what dripped off the blanket when they transferred it to the quilt.”
“That makes sense but why didn’t they cover her body?”
“Because she meant nothing to them.” Kane lowered his cellphone to look at her, his expression masked in shadows. “She was an object for their thrill, but once the life left her body, she was useless.”
“So they stripped off and walked out of here naked? Not likely in this weather. I bet when they told Sarah to strip, they stripped as well. I gather a man would work up quite a sweat inflicting that amount of damage, and the stove isn’t dusty. It’s been used recently.” Jenna pinched the mask tighter on her nose. “They would have still had blood on them. Look at this scene, they would have been covered no matter how much they removed with a towel.”
“They could have washed.” Kane moved with impressive care, using his cellphone camera to capture the scene from every angle possible without contaminating the evidence. “Rowley mentioned there is a river close by, so it would be easy enough to go there to wash off the blood.”
Jenna shook her head. “Not likely; it’s frozen this time of year.” She scanned the rest of the room. “This was built to store preserves and protect from twisters but there must have been a bunkhouse for the workers. Once upon a time this place was a big cattle farm.” She straightened and picked her way back to the edge of the room. “There’s not much more we can do here. Forensics will be here in the morning.
I think we should check the vehicle for her purse and cellphone then see if there is a bunkhouse with a bathroom on the property. With power from the generator, they’d be able to have hot showers and I’ve seen forensics pull heaps of evidence from drains.” She headed for the entrance. “We’ll have to get dogs out here to search for the bloody clothes and blankets. They must have discarded them somewhere.”
“They’d have burned them by now. If they didn’t strip, they would need a change of clothes. No one is going to drive back to town naked in this weather.” Kane turned off the lights and followed her up the steps, his footsteps making no sound behind her. “So this was premeditated.”
“Maybe not. An athlete often carries spare clothes or training gear in his car. So Rockford and his buddies are a fit.” She changed her latex gloves and headed for the SUV parked in the barn. “I’ll take a look inside. Have your camera ready.”
She searched the car, peering under the seats and in every nook and cranny. “Nothing. We’ll have to check the trash cans from here to the motel in case they dumped her bag. The garbage truck doesn’t do its rounds until the morning so we may be in luck.”
“I’ll get Daniels on it now.” Kane reached for his satellite phone and made the call.
Jenna led the way out the front of the barn and scanned the area. She spotted an old building a short distance from the house. “Over there at the end of the path. I bet that’s a bunkhouse.”
“And the path has been cleared recently.” Kane rubbed his chin. “But maybe not by our killer. Cattle have been moved along here in the past day or so.” He kicked at a frozen cow pie. “Yeah, that’s fresh. It could have been any one of the local ranchers. Rowley mentioned the cattlemen use this property to access the adjoining land.”
“Let’s take a look, but change the booties.” Jenna pulled the blue covers from her boots and reached into her pocket for more. “In case we picked up a trace of blood from the crime scene.” She glanced around to see Kane had removed his footgear and face mask and was observing her with amusement. “Sorry. I forget I’m not with Rowley sometimes.”
“So I gathered.” He gave her a wry smile. “I spent four years in a homicide investigation division and gather you’ve had similar experience. If we can’t solve this crime together, my head injury has affected me more than I believe.” He replaced the blue covers on his boots then trudged off toward the bunkhouse.
Thirty-Eight
Kane’s inspection of the bunkhouse left no doubt someone had used the shower. The strong smell of bleach lingered, deleting any chance of finding blood evidence, and now he had a case of premeditated murder. At least the forensics team would go over the place with a fine-toothed comb and it would only take a couple of hairs to collect DNA and match it to a suspect to identify the murderer. The odor of chlorine cleared the smell of blood from his nostrils, although leaving the root cellar door open to the winter chill had dissipated most of the stench. He had dreaded going back to the crime scene but his unease at seeing Sarah’s body again had fled in Jenna’s presence. Her almost cold professionalism had reinforced his usual distant calm when viewing a victim, and by the time they had walked out of the bunkhouse, his appetite had announced its return with a long growl. He caught Jenna’s small smile and gave her a friendly punch on the arm. “Okay, you caught me. I didn’t eat the food but I did appreciate the coffee.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to eat anything.” She glanced at the barn and her mouth turned down in an expression of disgust. “I wouldn’t have been able to eat for a week if I’d found the body. It would have been a shock, finding her. It was easier to go down there in the light, knowing what to expect, and with you at my side.” She frowned at the sight of her deputies leaning against the truck, heads together in deep conversation. “What are those two up to? Can you deal with them? I need to wash my hands.”
“Sure.” Kane strolled toward the two men.
He gave them instructions to take Rockford, Watts, and Beal in for questioning and headed toward the house. He would speak to Mr. Davis as well; the realtor was no longer on the top of his suspects list but he might shed light on where Stan Clough was living. A police cruiser came up the driveway and pulled up beside the house. From the logo on the side of the vehicle, Blackwater County Sheriff’s Department had sent two officers to relieve them. He waited on the stoop and after introductions gave the men a rundown of the situation. He followed them inside and met Jenna in the hallway. “Sheriff Alton, Deputies Jones and Clarke from Blackwater County.”
“Thank you for coming.” Jenna gave them a friendly smile and waved them into the sitting room. “This way, please.”
Kane left Jenna to issue orders and strolled into the kitchen more than happy to see a coffee maker bubbling away on the bench beside a number of plastic-covered pies and other delicious items from Aunt Betty’s Café. Jenna had brought enough supplies for a week, including cans of soup and other goods beside the microwave from her kitchen.
After filling two paper plates with a selection of food, he poured two mugs of coffee then grinned at the cartons of milk and cream packed in snow on the kitchen windowsill. He lifted the window, pulled one inside, and added liberal amounts to the steaming brews.
“You make quite the househusband.” Jenna nudged his elbow in a familiar way. “I’m surprised no one has snapped you up.” She took a cup and plate and dropped wearily into one of the chairs beside the table then proceeded to load her cup with sugar.
The familiar scene triggered a memory, and his wife’s face flashed into his mind. Annie. The image of her was usually the same, and not the vibrant woman he loved more than life. His mind tormented him with her death mask. Push it away. In this life, she does not exist. He placed his cup and plate on the table then sat down opposite Jenna. His emotions ran high at the thought of Annie and he would need to cover any telltale signs of distress from Jenna. Sure, on the job he had talked his way out of difficult situations many a time, but fooling Jenna would not be easy. He lifted his gaze to meet her inquisitive stare and forced his voice to remain steady. “Domestication is a necessary survival mode. If I couldn’t cook or take care of myself, I wouldn’t live too long, would I?” He sighed, remembering how Jenna had made it her business to keep him fed since his arrival. “I haven’t had to rely on someone to feed me—well, up until now, it seems.”
“Oh, I see.” Jenna laughed and sipped her coffee then smiled warmly at him. “Strong, handsome, and domesticated. Don’t you know women dream of meeting a guy like you?”
