Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Huck nodded. “This is a yew stand. Nobody has the right to harvest here.” Was it just a coincidence this guy ended up in the yew stand?
Laurel crouched, head angled, looking at the body. “There’s an injury on his forehead, probably from hitting the tree.” She turned her head, looking up at Huck. “Why would he run away from the road and into the woods while injured?”
He reached for her arm and gently tugged her to stand. “Bad head injury?” He glanced to the side and stiffened at seeing a mound of dirt between two still-standing yew trees. “What the hell?”
Laurel followed his gaze. “That appears recent.”
“Agreed.” Huck strode over to the freshly covered mound with steady, deliberate steps, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the scene. The earth had been disturbed recently, the soil dark and loose, clinging to patches of grass like wet clumps of ash.
The edges of the mound were uneven, like the ground had been shoved and scraped rather than properly smoothed. The pine needles scattered across the surface were too few and too deliberately placed to have fallen naturally. They clung to the moist soil like someone had attempted to camouflage the disturbance but hadn’t cared enough to make it convincing.
“Looks like it was done in the last few days,” Huck muttered.
Laurel stayed several feet behind him, her eyes locked on the disturbed ground with a precision Huck recognized. She was already processing, her mind making connections while his instincts continued to bellow that something was wrong. “The truck is the same one that smashed into us the other day, and I know I hit the passenger.” She swallowed twice in an uncharacteristic show of emotion.
“You returned fire and protected your partner,” Huck said quietly.
“Agreed,” Walter said, holstering his weapon.
Had the driver buried his buddy right here? In the middle of the yew field? “I’m betting this isn’t very deep,” Huck murmured.
Aeneas whined, his gaze locked on the mound.
“It’s okay, boy.” Huck backed away from the mound. “We don’t have service this far up. Let’s head back to the truck and call this in. We need to secure the scene and have the crime techs head out here.”
“Tell ’em to bring shovels,” Walter said grimly.
The skies opened up to pummel them with rain. A more fanciful woman would’ve thought the gods were angry at them. Laurel, on the other hand, figured it was just springtime. She had donned one of Huck’s Fish and Wildlife baseball caps to protect her face and had ditched the bulletproof vest to better tuck her jacket around herself.
She kept her arms folded against the creeping chill, her back straight as she watched the techs work. The yew trees around her smelled like damp earth and not nearly as strong as pine. The several techs tromping about had smashed the yew’s red berries all over the trail, and they gave off a slightly sweet smell.
Never before in her life had she even thought about the yew tree.
The body of the driver had already been secured in the back of a forensic response van after the techs had collected evidence around it.
They were still processing the scene of the buried body. Two blue tarps had been spread over the worst of the mud, their edges pinned down by rocks and stakes to keep the slick material from sliding. Another tarp had been propped up above the body, secured to tree branches and poles the techs had hammered into the ground. Water pattered against the tarp’s surface, creating a soft, rhythmic sound that seemed both natural and wrong.
“Careful with that,” FBI Agent Bill O’Connor muttered, his voice clipped but not harsh. He and another tech, Julie Evans, were kneeling beside the body. They were meticulous, brushing away soil from the man’s clothing and photographing every angle before attempting to move him. Agent Norrs stood over them, watching carefully.
“Balaclava still on,” Norrs noted. “Looks like he died wearing it.”
Laurel nodded, her eyes sweeping over the scene. The body lay twisted, half-crushed against the dirt, as if the man had been dragged and then dropped in haste. The dark material of his jacket was soaked through, streaked with blood and clinging mud.
She shifted her attention to the other agents circling the area, their flashlights cutting through the growing darkness. The portable floodlights they’d set up created harsh, angular shadows that danced across the trees.
“Is Huck still trying to find a camera?” Walter’s voice cut through the murmurs of the techs.
“Affirmative. Ena has given him directions, but I don’t think they were very helpful,” Laurel replied. She motioned Walter toward her, waiting until he strode gracefully over the crushed red berries. There had been a time she’d worried about him in the elements, but he worked out often now and appeared to be in good shape. Even so, water sluiced off his hair and down his face. “Let’s go assist Huck.”