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“I’m here. The party can start.” Hans Rideout, Amanda’s favorite ME, rounded the path and spoke only loud enough for her and Trent to hear him. He worked out of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in Manassas. It was about thirty minutes from Woodbridge, and though it was no longer part of Prince William County, their MEs still serviced the area. The forensics lab was there as well.
He passed Amanda and Trent and hustled down the slight incline toward the victim. Rideout could be an acquired taste, and he had morgue humor down pat, but it was his dedication to the job that earned Amanda’s respect. He arrived with a male assistant whom Amanda hadn’t met before.
She’d give the two of them time to look at the body while she and Trent spoke to the Swansons. She started her way over there, and the officer dipped her head in greeting. Her name tag read Cochran.Surprisingly, Amanda hadn’t run into her before now.
“Officer Cochran, we’re Detectives Amanda Steele”—she pointed to her partner—“and Trent Stenson.”
“Traci,” the officer said, providing her first name, “and this is Joni and Paul Swanson.”
The couple were in their late thirties, not much older than Amanda’s thirty-six. Paul had a bushy, dark beard and mustache and a bald head. Joni had a round face and blond straggly long hair. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was wringing her hands, though they were shaking.
“We heard you two discovered the body. Can you tell us what you’re doing in the park today?” Asked to simply establish the groundwork for the conversation and inquiries to follow.
The Swansons looked at Officer Cochran. “We told her everything,” Paul said.
“That’s good, but now we need to ask you questions, some of which may be repetitive for you. It’s procedure,” Amanda assured him. “Can you tell us what brought you here today?”
Paul glanced at his wife and answered on their behalf. “Just getting some exercise.”
“Of all the days,” Joni blurted out, her voice tinged with frustration.
“We can appreciate this wasn’t what you imagined when you set out today.” It was safe to assume the raw discovery would have been horrid and nothing short of shocking.
“You can say that again.” Joni palmed her cheeks, and her chin quivered. “Do you know who she is?”
Amanda shook her head. She had just been about to ask the same question—no need now. “Not yet. Do you normally walk the trails here?”
“No. This exercise thing is just something we were picking up again. Doctor’s orders.” Joni dug the toe of her hiking boot into the ground, crinkling the leaves and flaking them apart. Everything was so dry out here with the lack of rain in recent weeks.
“What time did you find her?” Trent asked. He had his pen and notepad at the ready.
Amanda had fought like hell against being paired with a partner. She’d never had a good experience with anyone—until Trent. And it was a bonus that he was meticulous about writing things down. It saved her from needing to do it all herself.
“Think it was right around six forty,” Paul said as he adjusted his arm around his wife, and she snuggled in closer to him. “Joni wanted to go down to the water to see if she could spot some snails.”
“Snails…?” Amanda asked, curious.
“Yeah. They’re a type of mystery snail.”
“They’re pretty neat. They can grow up to three inches long,” Joni added.
Amanda had grown up in Prince William County and had never heard of the snails before, but she wasn’t a hiker, not even huge into nature. “They sound neat,” she offered, hoping to relax the couple. She really didn’t get the feeling they were involved with what happened to Jane Doe, and they were being very cooperative, but she still needed to obtain the full picture. “So you spotted the body around six forty, and then what?”
“I called nine-one-one,” Paul said. “Well, after calming Joni down some.”
Joni tapped a hand over her chest. “It’s my heart. It’s not in the best of shape. Hence the recommended exercise.”
“Sorry to hear that, ma’am,” Trent said.
“Thanks.” Joni dipped her gaze to the ground, and her body swayed slightly.
“Do you need to sit down?” Amanda stepped forward.
Joni drew back some and shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”
“As long as you’re sure.” Amanda studied the couple. Absolutely nothing about them screamed “killer.” In fact, the opposite. She imagined they were rather pleasant and down-to-earth people when they weren’t forced to deal with something as messy as murder. “Just a few more questions. Did you come across anyone else in the park? They could have just been walking the trails like you?”
The Swansons looked at each other, their lips curled downward, and they shook their heads in unison.
“Anyone in the parking lot? See any other vehicles when you pulled in?” Trent asked.
“The lot we’re in was empty,” Paul said.
“Actually”—she stared at her husband’s profile, then looked at Amanda—“we did run across that ranger in the park, not long after we started on the trail. Remember him?”
Small tingles traipsed across Amanda’s shoulders. A park employee would be familiar with the terrain, and that could prove advantageous when executing a murder or even dumping a body. “Did you catch his name? Usually it’s noted on a patch on the uniform, like the officer’s here.” She gestured to Cochran, who pointed at her name, as if showcasing it like a prize up for bid on a TV show.
“Nah, we didn’t get that close,” Paul said.
“He was on the trail that leads down here, to the water?” she asked.
“That’s right.”
“And just to confirm, he was headed from the direction of the water, back toward the entrance?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell us what he looked like?” Trent beat her to the question.
“Six feet, give or take?” Paul consulted his wife, and she bobbed her head.
It always bugged Amanda when witnesses sought to verify their stories with another party. It didn’t exactly instill confidence, but she understood that stress could toy with the mind and color recollections. She’d experienced that herself when she had to sit with a sketch artist and describe the man who had shot her—grazed her arm, more specifically—a couple of months ago. The whole process probably took twice as long as it should have because she second-guessed herself the entire time. “Any distinguishing features? Hair color, eye color, tattoos, build?”
“He had brown hair, cropped short,” Joni tossed out, but when she looked at Amanda, she dropped her head and shrugged. She must have realized how generic the description was.
“Age range?” Amanda asked as Trent’s pen was coasting over the page in his book.
