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I looked at the body and at first all I saw was the terrible damage that the fall had done. I barely recognized the face, but when I did, I felt a cold wave pass through me.
I wasn’t going to be talking to Jim Pitts today. Or any other day.
And a whole lot of trouble had just opened up in front of me.
* * *
Mac and I left the body where it had landed after I took a bunch of pictures with my cell phone. I’d hauled Navy Blue out of here and it had given me flashbacks to a brutal recovery operation I’d done with the Rangers in Afghanistan after a helicopter went down in the mountains and my Ranger unit had to go in and recover bodies, weapons and classified gear. And now this. Pitts was only a kid, he wasn’t even twenty-one yet, and somebody had killed him.
By the time I got back up, Bartlett was standing next to Chief Olson, trying to look important but simply appearing clueless.
“Call the sheriff,” I told him as I climbed back over the railing.
“Why?” Bartlett asked, which made it obvious that Captain Olson hadn’t pointed out the mirror or skid mark. And Bartlett hadn’t asked. Or noticed.
“It might be a homicide,” I said, as I unhooked from the cable. “Someone ran the kid off the road on his motorcycle before he got to the turn.”
“‘Kid’?” Bartlett asked.
“Jim Pitts. He’s dead.”
“How do you know he was run off the road?”
I pointed at the mirror. “That didn’t fall off by itself. And the skid mark isn’t right.”
Bartlett squinted at it. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Note how the rubber is scraped sideways?”
He squinted. “Yes.”
“The bike was forced to the side. Couldn’t have done that by itself. Someone hit the bike and forced Jim off the road. Even if it was an accident, it’s still a hit and run. County is supposed to handle that. Right?” I began unbuckling the harness.
Bartlett grimaced as if he had to squeeze out a particularly nasty turd. “Mayor O’Toole doesn’t want the county involved in Burney in any capacity.”
I closed my eyes. I wasn’t angry. Seeing that twenty-year-old lying there with his body broken and eyes vacant hit too close to home. Reminded me of too many other youngsters I’d seen with broken bodies and lifeless eyes. And now this bullshit?
I pointed out the obvious to Bartlett. “Chief Pens got relieved because he didn’t call in county for Lavender Blue’s death. You realize O’Toole is putting you in the same position? A bit hypocritical of you, isn’t it?” I tried to recall and given it was a day ago, the words came back to me. “‘Proper procedure in such a case is to give the county sheriff jurisdiction as they have the proper resources to conduct a homicide investigation’.”
But Bartlett was looking into the ravine. “You sure he’s dead?”
What did he think we were doing? Leaving the body down there to discuss treatment? I looked across at Mac, who was taking his harness off. He rolled his eyes but gave his report.
“He had no pulse when I arrived at his body,” Mac said. “His neck is broken along with numerous other fractures. Blunt force trauma to the skull and he wasn’t wearing a helmet. He died on impact.”
That was the thin silver lining in this tragedy. At least Jimmy hadn’t lain there with a broken neck, paralyzed, unable to move, staring up at the sky in agony.
Bartlett licked his lips as he looked from the body to me to Captain Olson and back down. Trying to make a decision. Welcome to leadership.
While Bartlett’s brain spun, I asked Olson, “Who called it in?”
His report was succinct. “Passing motorist saw the skid mark. Stopped and looked down, then called. We got the nine-one-one first for EMT. Then I told dispatch to call you guys when I saw the way things were.”
Bartlett’s brain had apparently stopped spinning. “This is our case. No sheriff.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What about procedure?”
“The mayor said—“
