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He held up a finger as his phone signaled a text message. “I don’t knowwhatwe’re dealing with, but maybe I know who. Reverend Thomas called into the station last night and said he thought Reverend Oglesby was missing—he’s the new priest the church brought in a few months ago,” he explained when he saw my blank look. “But the officer who took the call didn’t put much credence in it because Oglesby was supposed to be on vacation for a week visiting his father.”
I looked at the man strapped to the tree. A man who could have been someone chosen by the church to do no harm and help whomever he could. A man who was supposed to be gentle and kind.
“He deserves better than this,” I said.
“Everyone deserves better than this. Let’s cut the chains and get him the hell down from there.”
Chapter Three
An audible gasp could be heard from a few of the younger cops as the victim was lowered to the ground onto the clean plastic tarp I’d spread out. I didn’t see any new faces in the crowd. Everyone on scene had been through the horrors of seeing death up close. But this death was something more. It was more personal. More violent.
“Go ahead and leave him face down and get the shots of his back,” I said to Colburn. I took my own pictures, documenting each laceration.
“You got it, Doc.” He didn’t spare me a look, but he said, “It’s good to have you back.”
I nodded and realized that was as good of a homecoming as any.
“Is the perimeter up?” Jack asked Colburn.
“It’s up. I’ve got Lewis and Martinez following the trail with flashlights, but we’ll wait until daylight before we start combing the area. Nothing but woods and dead leaves around here,” Colburn said, looking around us. “We’ll be lucky to find anything more than beer cans and used condoms. The teenagers like to come out here to party.”
“Yeah, well, at least they’re using condoms,” Jack said. “We’ve only got another hour until sunrise. Call in and get whatever you need for the search. Let’s use three-man teams to keep the traffic down and switch them out every two hours so eyes can stay fresh. I don’t want any screw-ups on our end.”
“You got it, boss.” Colburn moved off to give instructions to the others.
“Colburn seems to be doing okay,” I said quietly. We both kneeled down next to the body, and I looked at the flayed skin on the victim’s back.
“He’s doing better,” Jack said. “I thought I was going to lose him there for awhile. He wanted to quit. Started drinking a bit. But he straightened himself out pretty quick. Colburn’s a fighter. After I convinced him to stay on, the city council decided they needed to get involved and boot him out of town. They wanted to make a law keeping known fornicators from representing the city.”
I felt a laugh bubble up at the absurdity, but held it back in deference to the body in front of me. It was easy to forget that not everyone around us had seen as much death as Jack and I had in our lifetimes. Relieving stress and tension through laughter in the face of violence was commonplace with cops and morticians. But these guys were young and unseasoned, and they just wouldn’t understand. They’d go home and make love to their wives or girlfriends in a frenzy of lust, or they’d find their tempers flare throughout the day while that adrenaline from fear and the thankfulness for just being alive tried to surface.
I scratched at my cheek with the back of my hand so no one could see me smile. “Did you tell them half of the city employees would have to resign? Including their sheriff?” I asked.
He turned to look at me, and I hadn’t realized how close we were. Close enough that our whispers could only be heard by each other. Close enough that I could see how the black of his pupil melded into the dark brown of his iris. My lungs burned and I reminded myself to breathe.In and out. Inhale and exhale.Conscious breathing had become a habit over the past months. I knew all too well what it felt like when the air stopped. When the oxygen didn’t fill the lungs, no matter how hard you tried.
“You’re going to hurt my feelings, Jaye. Haven’t you heard? I’m a changed man.” His smile was pure sin. A little apologetic and a lot determined as he seemed to stare straight through me—to the part of me that was scared down to my toes to examine what it was he was trying to say—to the part of me that wanted him to touch me even though the thought of physical contact with anyone made me physically ill.
I cleared my throat and broke eye contact, not knowing what was going to come out of my mouth until the words formed. “You can tell the victim’s been flogged with something other than a belt or regular whip. The jagged tears in the flesh indicate some kind of metal might have been sewn into the device.” The words were stiff, as if I’d been giving a lecture instead of talking to the one person in the world who knew me best.
I felt more than heard Jack’s sigh. His soft exhalation of breath fluttered the hair around my face, but I tucked the loose strands ruthlessly behind my ear, pretending to be completely absorbed in my analysis. It was a lie. My brain had stopped functioning the moment those dark eyes had dared to show me something a little more than I was ready for. Maybe I’d come back home too soon after all.
Jack didn’t wait for me to get it together. He asked the obvious question. “What the hell is that white stuff?”
I shook free of wherever it was I’d mentally travelled and saw what he was talking about. Little white granules, no bigger than grains of sand coated the edges of the ragged flesh.
“Salt,” I said, hoarsely. “Whoever did this poured salt in his wounds.”
Jack pulled a small black case from the inside of his coat pocket, no larger than one of those useless evening bags women were forever carrying around, and he opened it to reveal an assortment of useful tools. I had one just like it, but I’d tossed it in a box to be given away to Salvation Army before I’d left town.
“Nice tools,” I said, recognizing the set as my own.
“A recent acquisition. I probably even know where you could get a set for yourself.”
“That could be useful, considering my new job.”
He pulled out what looked like a dentist’s pick and handed it to me. I scraped gently at the salt until I had enough to put in one of the plastic Ziploc bags rolled up inside the case. I passed the tool back and grabbed the tweezers so I could get the rope fibers I’d seen around his neck.
“Where are his clothes?” I asked. “Where’s his car?”
