Page 6 of Her Last Farewell

The clearing was quickly filling with activity now. The medical examiner knelt beside the body while crime scene techs began photographing the scene. The morning sun had risen higher, sending sharp shafts of light through the trees that illuminated swirling clouds of dust and pollen in the air.

Rachel stepped back, allowing the professionals to do their work. She watched as they documented every detail, but her instincts were already telling her this case was going to be different. The careful positioning of the body, the professional execution, the mysterious five-month gap between disappearance and death – it all pointed to something more complex than a simple murder.

Deputy Leery appeared beside her, his notebook still in hand. "I've been on the force fifteen years," he said quietly, "and I've never seen anything quite like this. Dead bodies dumped in the woods? Sure. But this whole scenario is just weird."

Rachel studied his face, noting the genuine concern in his eyes. Leery struck her as the type of law enforcement officer sherespected most – professional but not hardened, experienced but still capable of being affected by the darker aspects of human nature.

"We need to move quickly on this one," she replied. "Cases like this – where nothing quite adds up – they can spiral out of control fast. The five-month gap especially concerns me. Where was she during that time? What happened to change the situation now?"

Leery nodded in agreement, but before he could respond, the medical examiner called them over. As Rachel walked back toward the body, Rachel felt like they were missing something important, something that would explain the strange timeline and the careful treatment of the victim.

She just hoped they could figure it out soon…and that Carla Rhodes would be the only body involved in this case.

CHAPTER FIVE

Rachel Gift stepped in close by the coroner, making sure to give enough space to the medical examiner. Through the bit of conversations she’d overheard, she knew the ME’s first name was Eleanor. She’d also brought along her assistant. Rachel pulled her coat a bit tighter around herself, waiting to see why Eleanor had called her and Novak back over. There was something almost artistic about the way medical examiners approached a body—the careful precision, the way they could read stories in bruises and abrasions that others might miss entirely. Rachel had always respected and deeply appreciated the work they did.

Eleanor a small woman in her fifties, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a tight bun, her movements deliberate and focused as she crouched beside the body. She wore purple nitrile gloves that seemed too cheerful for the grim task at hand.

"The positioning is interesting," Eleanor said, her voice carrying the slight lilt of a southern accent—perhaps one she had worked hard to get rid of from the sound of it. She gestured to Carla's hands as she spoke, folded peacefully across her stomach. "This wasn't random. Whoever placed her here took the time to arrange her body with care."

Rachel nodded, having made that very same comment just before Eleanor and the coroner had arrived.

"The entry wound is clean, professional. No stippling or powder burns, suggesting it wasn't presseddirectlyagainst her skin, but it was damned close,” Eleanor said. “I'd estimate between two and four inches."

The morning light filtered through the canopy of bare branches above them, casting dappled shadows across Carla's face. She looked peaceful, Rachel thought, despite the violentend she'd met. Her blonde hair was splayed out beneath her head, and if not for the bullet wound, she might have appeared to be sleeping.

"Any estimation on time of death?" Novak asked, his breath visible in the cold air.

Eleanor pulled back the sleeve of Carla's jacket slightly. "Based on the early stages of rigor mortis, I'd say no more than forty-eight hours ago." She paused, her brow furrowing. "But that's what makes this case particularly strange, isn't it? Ms. Rhodes has been missing for nearly five months."

"And now we know she was alive for most of that time," Rachel said quietly.

Eleanor’s careful examination stopped at the wrists. "Agents, have a look at this."

Rachel crouched beside the medical examiner, the leaves crunching beneath her feet. Around Carla's wrists were distinct bands of bruising, darker on the outside edges and lighter in the middle. The pattern was unmistakable. There were rough abrasions as well, small but the sort that had healed and then opened again repeatedly. It almost look like minor rug burn.

"Restraint marks," Rachel said, her jaw tightening. "She was bound."

"For an extended period," Eleanor confirmed. She gently lifted one of Carla's hands, turning it slightly. "See these layers of bruising and scratching? Different stages of healing. This wasn't a one-time thing."

Rachel moved down to Carla's ankles, carefully lifting the cuff of her jeans. Similar marks circled her ankles, telling the same story of prolonged captivity. She stood, her mind already racing through possibilities. "So she was held somewhere, restrained, for what could have been months, and then executed with a single shot to the head."

Novak had been taking notes on his phone, and now he looked up. "It doesn't fit the typical profile of a kidnapping for ransom or sexual assault. No signs of torture or abuse that I can see. What do you think?" he asked, looking at Eleanor.

She shook her head. "I'll know more after the full autopsy, but at first glance, apart from the restraint marks and the obvious cause of death, she appears to be in relatively good physical condition. No obvious signs of malnutrition or dehydration."

Rachel got back to her feet and paced a small circle, fallen leaves crackling under her feet. "So our killer kept her alive, seems to have taken care of her basic needs, and then murdered her with what appears to be a practiced hand." She turned to Novak. "What are you thinking?"

Her partner closed his notebook, tucking it into his jacket pocket. "I'm thinking this is someone who's done this before. The professional nature of the killing, the care taken with the body—it suggests experience. But the long-term captivity throws me. Why keep her alive for so long only to kill her now?" She frowned and said, “There could have been sexual motive. Of course, we’ll look for signs of sexual abuse when we get her to the coroner’s office.”

"And what about the suicide note?" Rachel added, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "Was it genuine? Was she forced to write it? Did the killer forge it?" She closed her mouth when she realized she was simply thinking out loud at this point.

"Could be a way to buy time," Novak suggested. "If everyone believes she killed herself, there's less urgency in the investigation. No one's looking for a killer because they don't know there is one."

Rachel nodded, the theory making sense. "But why kill her now? What changed?" She looked back at the body, at thepeaceful way Carla's hands were folded. "It's almost like... like the killer was sorry to do it. Like it wasn't personal."

"There's something else," Eleanor said, pointing to some slight discoloration on Carla's jacket. "These marks here—they're consistent with someone being kept in a confined space. The fabric has worn in specific patterns, suggesting she was in regular contact with some sort of barrier or wall."

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