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Violet shivered as goose bumps broke out on her arms, and the hair at the nape of her neck stood on end. It wasn’t the demographic that rubbed her wrong but the awareness of an eerie presence. Unsettling. Rancorous. As if darkness had staked its claim, ready to fight to keep its hollow under its cold bony thumb. The kind of merciless evil that didn’t play by any rules. Or fight fair.
Violet closed her eyes. They’d fought this kind of monster before.
But something felt...personal. Like the place was eyeing her alone as its tasty morsel. The mouse that the cat toyed with before sinking its teeth into.
“Leave it to Violet to nap through a freak show like this. Ice in your veins, woman. Ice.” Ty snorted.
Let him think what he wanted. Ice did run in her veins. But the cold she felt at this moment had nothing to do with DNA.
“Where are we?” Asa paused on the road. “Talk about being out in the middle of B...nowhere.”
“We out at Aunt Gussie’s, no doubt,” Owen quipped. “Where exactly is the crime scene?”
“A cave back in the hollow. There’s supposed to be a road that leads us to it, but I haven’t seen anything except driveways.” He eased on the gas and continued the climb until up ahead a flash of yellow caught their eyes.
Crime-scene tape had cordoned off a small dusty road, and a Slate County patrol car with two deputies stood post, keeping out anyone who wasn’t law enforcement. Asa rolled down his window and flashed his creds while introducing himself and the SCU team. The deputy handed him the logbook to sign them in, then he parted the tape to allow them through.
They inched up the bumpy road, being jostled like dice in a clammy palm. The road—if it could loosely be called that—opened up into hilly terrain, lacking grass. A UTV’s dream. The cave was enormous, a rock formation that climbed and stretched beyond the trees. Boulders had formed a porch of sorts covering the dark opening, wide enough to fit a couple of trucks. Cans and cigarette butts littered the surroundings.
Looked like a perfect party place. Why hide bodies inside unless the killer wanted them to be found?
Asa parked behind Louisville’s federal vehicle, and they clambered out, stretched their legs. Violet straightened her charcoal gray blazer and smoothed her matching slacks. Her knee popped and she winced. Owen opened the hatch and passed out their FBI windbreakers. Maybe it’d cut out the wind seeping through her thin blazer and silk shirt underneath. She donned it and checked her watch.
“Almost four o’clock.”
“Yeah. I really don’t wanna be out here after dark.” Fiona shivered. No. No she wouldn’t.
Asa discreetly squeezed her hand and winked. “You stick real close to me.”
“Enough of the flirting already,” Ty whined and slid into his windbreaker. “Get married again and get a room, would ya?”
They’d be losing light in forty minutes. “Or we could get to work.”
A lanky, bowlegged man approached, his badge noting him as the sheriff. Removing his hat, he spoke from underneath a Tom Selleck mustache, but that was as far as the similarities ran. His comb-over tuft blew like a lone strand in the wind and his beady dark eyes homed in on her, squinted as if he was trying to place her familiarity. “Whichuns of you is gonna be in charge?”
“I’m the special agent in charge. Asa Kodiak.” He held out his strong arm, and the sheriff hesitated then shook his hand.
“Sheriff Jackie Wayne Modine.” Pleasantries and introductions were made, but they rode an undercurrent of mistrust on both sides. Nope, no welcome mat. “I’ll tell you like I told the others who’re still here and the State Police before ’em. We can handle this case.”
Before the sheriff could further voice his opinion, the two federal agents out of Louisville exited the cave, and the blond muscular one waved at Asa. “Hey hey,” he called. “Good to see you and glad to pass this one off.” They approached and he hugged Fiona. “You look amazing. I knew I should have beat Asa to the punch in the Academy. You and I could’ve been a sweet, sweet thing.”
Fiona blushed at his brazen teasing, and Asa rolled his eyes and introduced the old friend and cad as Agent Kip Pulaski. The dark-haired man with the runner’s build who’d been standing quietly and observing was Agent Bill Thompson.
The sheriff’s cell phone rang. “Pardon me. Not that it matters,” he mumbled and traipsed out of earshot.
“He’s a real piece of work. Not happy that we’re here at all and pretty ticked about the anonymous call to the State Police,” Agent Pulaski said. “We’ve been trying to track who that caller might be.”
Violet suspected it would be easier to find a needle in a haystack.
“Rain came in a few nights ago. It’s muddy back there,” Pulaski said. “If y’all have rubber boots, use ’em. Coroner took the bodies around eight this morning. What little trace evidence we found, we held for you to see, but it’s ready to go to Quantico.”
“You already reinterview the first ones on the scene, the people who found the bodies?” Asa asked.
Agent Pulaski nodded. “Figured you’d want to do it all yourself though. Third time’s a charm, right? We still have ERT combing. The cave is deep, and we’re pretty sure the vics were alive in here for a period of time. Not sure how long.”
“How do you know that?” Violet asked.
“Scratch marks on the cave walls.”
