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As their wrists were freed, the three stood and took to massaging them vigorously. One of them reached for the guitar that was leaning against a tree trunk and inspected it carefully. Then he approached Kay. “May we go now?”
“In a moment, after you leave your contact info with the deputy.” She turned to Bryan Danko. “Tell me what happened.”
Still rattled, the young man struggled to find his words as his gaze darted all over the place. He was rubbing his reddened wrists over and over, obsessively.
“We, um, I just found her, that’s all. I dropped my phone, and it went down there. I had to try to get it. My entire life is on that phone.”
That much Kay believed. “Did you recover your phone?”
He nodded vigorously but couldn’t find the words.
“Did you touch the body or do anything to it?”
“N—no, ma’am,” he replied quickly. “I just fell on top of it.” A bout of nausea flared his nostrils and crinkled his nose. He’d probably unloaded his breakfast near the body.
Kay’s lips pressed together in a thin, disapproving line. By accident or intentionally, the crime scene was compromised. “Hang out here for a little while longer, okay?” She turned to Elliot with a determined look on her face. “I’m going down there.”
She didn’t wait for his reply. He probably didn’t expect her to. A few minutes later, dressed head to toe in white protective coveralls, Elliot descended first into the ravine, using the winch hook to hold on to and slow his descent. Once at the bottom, he signaled Leach, and the winch cable started pulling up. Moments later, Kay joined him, still angry with him for having been the first down. He absolutely had to play the protective male. While charming and heartwarming, she felt that took from her professionally.
Once at the bottom, she tread around the bushes until they reached the body. The county medical examiner was an old acquaintance of Kay’s; the two shared a friendship that spoke of years together on the force.
Doc Whitmore greeted them, but Elliot was staring speechlessly at the victim, his jaw visibly clenched.
Her face, defiantly beautiful even in death, rested open-eyed under the azure sky. Her brown, silky hair fanned around her head, bringing out the alabaster pallor of her skin. Her lips, slightly parted as if she was still breathing, as if she still whispered her goodbyes. Her arms, raised along her body, her fists slightly open, in a final defensive stance against an unseen assailant. Her clothes, torn and bloodied, revealed the story of her untimely fate. More telling than anything, were the bruises around her neck and on her arms, the dried streaks of blood on the inside of her thighs, the torn fingernails as she had fought for her life.
It was Jenna.
Kay kneeled by the girl’s head to examine the bruising around her neck. The thick layer of fir needles had absorbed most of the blood, but some had congealed on the boulder under her head.
“Cause of death, Doc?” Kay asked.
“Consistent with a fall from a significant height, most likely from up there.” Doc pointed a gloved finger at the Wildfire Ridge, four thousand feet above them. “I will rule it a homicide.”
Elliot looked at him but didn’t ask anything. The medical examiner seemed to have read their minds.
“Even if she fell without being pushed, I see enough evidence she was the victim of a violent sexual assault. If her death occurred during the perpetration of that assault, the law is clear. Her rapist is also her killer, even if he had intended for a different outcome.”
“Time of death?”
“Between seven and ten last night.” Doc approached Kay but remained standing. “I’d hoped this was an accident, some hiker who lost her footing, but—” He sighed, the pained breath leaving his lungs ending his lament. “I wonder why the serenity and seclusion of this mountain brings out the worst in some of the people who climb it.”
Silence filled the air for a moment.
Doc Whitmore crouched next to his open kit and extracted two plastic bags and some tape. Then he walked over to the body and kneeled by the girl’s hand, on the other side from Kay.
“Would you mind, my dear?” He offered Kay a bag; no other instructions were necessary. If Jenna had scratched her assailant during the attack, her fingernails could hold DNA evidence that had to be carefully preserved.
Once the bags were sealed around Jenna’s wrists with two layers of tape, Doc stood and beckoned them to his side. He lifted Jenna’s arm, exposing a small pink object. Kay took an evidence pouch and captured the object Doc Whitmore collected with two gloved fingers.
It was a plastic hair clip, girlish and cheap, shaped as a wide-winged butterfly. It might’ve fallen off Jenna’s hair. Or it could’ve been one of the many items Wildfire Ridge hikers found entertaining to throw into the abyss opening up at their feet, completely unrelated to Jenna’s demise.
The unzipping of body bags always chilled Kay’s blood, and this one was no exception. Two firefighters had joined them at the bottom of the ravine, carrying a basket stretcher. They helped Doc Whitmore load the body into the bag, then onto the stretcher, and secured it with zig-zagging straps. Then the two men disappeared from view with their load while Doc Whitmore still lingered, collecting his gear and organizing the sealed and signed evidence pouches.
“I found this in one of her pockets,” he said, holding up an evidence pouch. It was Jenna’s phone. “It’s broken.”
EIGHT
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER
