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He sucked in a breath as he looked to the first body, now severely decomposed, suspended between two trees as if positioned in a hammock. The body wore a thin cotton gown, like a woman might sleep in.
Mitch stood, straightening, as he looked up, rapidly counting the bodies suspended in the trees, swaying in the wind—all dressed in identical white gowns. There were seven, some more decomposed than others, but none of them had been strung up in the last few days. He quickly took a few photographs and when he could no longer stomach the sight in front of him, he backed away.
It was like some kind of horrific art exhibit. He didn’t know what he was dealing with, but it was sick.What kind of disturbed human being does something like this?
The bodies couldn’t be locals, Mitch concluded immediately. There were too many... Redwater and the surrounding towns didn’t have that many missing people.
A chill settled into his soul.
CHAPTER1
MITCH
Mitch paced in a wide circle as he waited for his team to arrive. He’d walked far enough away from the swaying bodies that he felt like he could breathe clean air, but he still looked over his shoulder every minute to make sure none of them had followed him out of the woods like zombies.
The thought almost made him laugh.
Almost.
Instead, he suppressed a shudder.
Life here was generally peaceful. He was born and raised in Redwater as his parents had been, and their parents. Life was simple in the small town and yes, he’d occasionally seen the odd dead body—usually from a road accident. Murder was very rare. A mass murder of bodies swaying in the wind was unfathomable.
His stomach churned again and he leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. Gus nuzzled in against his leg and Mitch crouched down, sitting back on his heels. He rubbed the soft spot behind his puppy’s ear and Gus tilted his head into Mitch’s hand. “Good boy, Gus,” he said calmly, even though he felt anything but. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the images flashing behind his eyes.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He withdrew it, noting the caller ID.
“Bethenny,” he said, surprised she’d received the news so quickly.
“Hey, I just heard. What in the world?” she asked, dragging out those last words.
Mitch sighed. “I keep thinking I must’ve been hallucinating, but I’ve circled back twice now and they’re there... swaying in the breeze like decomposing, dancing corpses all dressed in white nightgowns. It’s...” The words got stuck in his throat, even though Bethenny was easy to talk to—a safe place for him, someone he could be vulnerable with. They’d both grown up in Redwater, but she’d moved to Los Angeles for a period before returning here. The last big case they’d worked had brought them close together—as friends. She was now in a relationship with his lead homicide detective, Lachlan Taylor, and Mitch was genuinely happy for them.
It was the investigation of Lachlan that had cemented the friendship among them, and now all three were good friends. They say it takes years to develop a strong friendship, but Mitch didn’t believe that—a life-changing event could also create a strong bond. Or, more correctly, God could bind people together. It didn’t always take years; sometimes it only took weeks or months.
“Are you okay?” Bethenny asked gently.
“Yeah... It’s just... I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said, pushing the words out.
“I worked Los Angeles homicide for years... I mean, I’ve only heard the description of the scene you found, but I’ve never seen anything like it and I saw some pretty horrible stuff,” she said, blowing out a breath. “I’m so sorry we’re not there. We’re going to change our flights. We’ll get back to Redwater as soon as we can.”
Mitch shook his head. “No, absolutely not. Enjoy Europe. Believe it or not, I can handle this,” he said with a smile.
“That wasn’t what I was implying,” Bethenny added quickly. “It’s just bad timing for two of your homicide detectives to be on vacation.”
The corner of Mitch’s lips tilted up. “You have another three weeks of leave. I can handle it until then. Realistically, there’s seven bodies—I won’t be close to done with this by the time you get back. There will be plenty for you to do at that point.” He didn’t state the obvious though, that this was almost certainly a serial killer, and if they didn’t find whoever was responsible, there could be more bodies suspended in the trees before Bethenny and Lachlan returned.
“Hmm...” Bethenny said, and he could hear her reluctance.
“I’ve got this, Bethenny. I can handle it,” he said confidently.
“I know you can,” Bethenny said without hesitation. “But you know me; I like to be involved. Can you send me a picture? I need to see if the image in my head matches what you’re seeing. I know that sounds weird.”
Mitch grinned despite the circumstances. Itwasweird, but not for someone who had spent most of their life investigating murders. “No, because then you’ll want to come home. You’re not on the case, Bethenny. Neither is Lachlan. If you come home, you’ll find yourselves in the station doing paperwork,” he said, deadly serious.
Mitch didn’t know if it was the tone of his voice or the thought of being burdened with paperwork, but Bethenny conceded.
“Okay, but call if you need anything,” she said, equally as serious.
