Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Very.” She looked down the embankment toward Two Trout Creek, fully understanding he was giving her time. She didn’t need it. “I’m fine, Dutch. Let’s do this.”
He held out a hand to help her over the bank. “I know you’re fine, but I don’t like taking you to a dead body. It goes against my nature.” He grimaced. “That sounds dickish, but you’re pretty, Doc. Sweet.”
She grinned more naturally this time. His overprotectiveness warmed her, and his grip did steady her. “You’re kind and not a dick, Dutch. I’m glad we’re friends.” The ground was slick, weeds bending under their weight as they climbed down.
“Me, too. I’ve called in the state troopers, mainly because I have to head out again in a couple of hours into the wilds,” Dutch said. “They’re a good four hours out because the rain is coming down hard in Fairbanks. They don’t want to take off yet. We’re hoping you could do a quick prelim.”
May adjusted the strap of her pack. “Of course, but I can’t declare manner of death. I’m happy to give you my impressions for your records.” Happy was definitely not the right word. “Not happy, but you know what I mean.”
“I surely do.”
The wind picked up, cutting across the creek. Cold seeped through her light sweater, and she shivered.
“You want to go back and get a coat?” Dutch asked.
She focused on the water. “No, thanks. I’m fine.” Brock and Ophelia stood near the rapidly flowing creek. Brock’s broad shoulders were stiff and his posture locked tight. Ophelia stood beside him, as calm and composed as always. She took notes on an old-fashioned notepad, her pen moving quickly despite the damp air.
“I have Brock and Olly on this until the state troopers arrive.” Dutch winced. “I don’t want a jurisdictional fight, especially since Alaska doesn’t have sheriffs.”
“I know.” May sighed softly. “It’s one of the town’s…quirks. Brock’s good at his job, though. Plus, Ophelia is a federal agent, and I know the troopers like working with her.”
Dutch brushed a hand over his weathered jaw. “Yeah, but we’re on state land and nowhere near federal jurisdiction right now.”
May didn’t argue. The entire town would revolt if the state ever tried to force them to get rid of the sheriff, but she didn’t see how they’d win. The town was remote enough the troopers didn’t fuss much about it, but if it ever became an issue, things could get ugly.
Dutch led her around several tall weeds toward a pebbly area near the creek. The ground shifted underfoot with slick stones. The water rushed by hard enough to hinder conversation as the snowpack kept on melting.
In the weeds, a woman lay face up, one arm flung across the river rocks.
May’s breath caught. Just for a second.
The young woman’s eyes were open, staring sightlessly up at the stormy sky. Dirt and mud matted her blonde hair, while her skin was pale against the darker ground. Rain dotted her cheeks. The wilderness didn’t soften scenes like this. Didn’t blur the edges. Everything stayed raw and exposed.
May stepped closer, her training taking over even as her stomach twisted. “Well,” she said quietly, “I don’t need to determine cause of death to tell you what this was.”
“Yeah,” Dutch muttered. “I know.”
Ugly purple bruises mottled the woman’s throat. May crouched carefully, scanning without touching. Tiny red bursts dotted the whites of the woman’s eyes. “Petechial hemorrhaging. She was definitely strangled. But again, it’s not my job to determine cause of death. The medical examiner in Fairbanks will do so.”
“Can you tell me anything?” Dutch asked.
“Yes. This was violent.” May reached into her pack and pulled on gloves. The snap of latex sounded too loud in the charged air. She pressed fingers gently against the woman’s neck, then lifted an arm with careful precision, avoiding anything that might disturb trace evidence. “Rigor mortis has set in. She’s been dead at least eight hours.”
“That’s what I thought.”
The wind surged again. The creek churned, relentless. Trees bent and whispered. The storm was nearly on top of them now. May could feel it in her bones and in the pressure building behind her eyes. Lightning slashed across the sky.
May flinched. “Oh, crap.”
Dutch gently leaned over her to stare at the body. “Yeah. Rain’s coming. She’s too exposed out here.” He pressed a hand to May’s shoulder. “At least she’s dressed.”
“True.” May studied the deceased woman’s creme-colored sweater over jeans that led to tennis shoes. She squinted and angled in, careful not to touch. “There might be fingerprints indented in the skin, but I’m not sure.”
The first drops of rain hit the stones like scattered taps.
“The wind is picking up too much.” Brock’s gaze tracked the sky and his jaw visibly flexed. “We need to get the body out of the elements and not wait for the troopers, especially since they haven’t taken off yet. I have a body bag in my rig. I’ll go get it.” He turned immediately, his thick boots digging into the slick bank as he climbed.