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Shannon was completely nude, lying in a position similar to Leanne’s. But probably assuming dogs would be used to hunt for her, the killer had smeared her entire body with honey. It was getting on toward summer, and the Texas heat made her a ripe target for ants and other insects. At first, Cole thought her skin had a black substance all over it, until he saw the black moving and realized what it was.
“I think a lot of people will be standing in that line,” he told the coroner. “Jesus. I can’t believe this.”
“I can’t even tell what other damage was done to her until I get rid of the bugs,” Nita told him.
The Crime Scene Unit photographed the scene from every angle. Then Shannon’s body was loaded in Nita’s big Ford Expedition, and she bumped along the field to the dirt road.
Cole turned to Tina. “Thanks for all your help.”
“I wish it could have had a different ending.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe another human being did something like that.”
“Whoever he is, he isn’t human.” Cole tightened his lips. “When I get my hands on this animal, he’ll wish he was never born.”
“Just don’t get yourself in trouble, Cole,” she warned. “It isn’t worth it.”
“Yeah, I know. All right, tell your people thanks for me. CSU will go to work here now and see if they can get anything at all. I’m heading back to the office to handle things from there.”
“Will do.”
They shook hands, and she trudged off to round up her crew.
Mickey and Andi had stretched crime scene tape around the drop area, and the CSU techs were in the process of combing every inch for any stray bits of evidence. Anything at all that could be useful.
“This is probably a waste of time,” Cole told them. “He was meticulous about not leaving any trace with Leanne, so I don’t expect to find anything here. But it’s got to be done.”
“No problem,” Mickey said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get this maniac.”
“Me, too,” Andi echoed.
“All right, then. Check in with me when you’re done.”
The helicopter was long gone, so Gaylen had someone pick Cole up and take him back to his SUV. He climbed into it, weary to his soul. He hoped someone had given Dana a ride back to her car, and she’d gone home as he suggested. He was glad she hadn’t seen the scene close up.
Cole knew the media would be nipping at his heels for information. The deputies were still keeping them out of the area, but he’d have to tell them sooner rather than later. The Fowlers were at home with their pastor and friends from the church, but Cole had no such insulation.
Shit. Once the details got out, they’d have reporters converging from all over the country. What a fucking mess.
And Grace had radioed him that people were gathering at the office again. Word of the body’s discovery had spread like wildfire, and the good citizens of Salado County were after his hide.
Double shit.
Well, at least people’s attention had been turned away from Dana’s project. Now, instead of being after her hide, they were after his.
But they’d have to wait. He had a few calls to make, first to Reno to give him an update, then to the FBI and anyone else who could offer help. This was definitely a serial killer.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dana stopped on the side of the road on her way home from the sheriff’s office and vomited until her stomach was empty. She’d heard two people from Solize discussing the condition of the body. She knew the images in her mind would find their way into her nightmares.
Bastard!
That was all she could think when she finally stopped heaving. If she had a gun, she might hunt him down and kill him herself. Suddenly, the scene in the barn with Kylie and the man who’d taken them rose in the air and smacked her in the face. The scent of cedar and moldy air surrounded her, and she was afraid she’d heave again.
This killer was taking his victims close together. Years ago, the pedophile had gone days or even weeks between victims. It was barely two days since Leanne’s death. If this was the same man, had he recognized her? She’d felt him the other day, felt his evil presence. He was here and he was the one. It was hard for her to look at anyone in town without staring, wondering if she was looking at him.
Was she the catalyst? Was he trying to divert attention or frighten her off? Was she his ultimate target?
All she wanted was to lock herself in her house and bury her face in a pillow. But when she pulled into her driveway, she was ready to be sick all over again. Someone had liberally used red spray paint on the neat little adobe house she was renting. “Bitch go home” and“You’ll be next” were sprayed in different locations across the front and someone had smashed the big living room window.
