Page 5 of Last Girls Alive
Katie slowed her pace, taking everything in and scanning the area before making her way toward the body. Bulldozers were frozen mid-operation, towering over her. The stench of diesel masked the familiar odor of wet earth and pine trees, and all around her trenches and heaped soil battled against the run-off of water from all the rain they’d been having recently. To her left were three large metal construction containers—two had their doors wide open, but it was too dark to see inside.
It was a breathtaking site, with stunning views of the rolling valley all around and large elm and oak trees surrounding the house. The slight breeze made a whispering sound as it threaded through the leaves. It was no wonder someone would want to build their home here.
In the middle of the picture-perfect landscape stood the crippled remains of Elm Hill Mansion, clearly of no use or interest to anyone anymore and waiting to be knocked down. The once beautiful pale blue paint was now peeling from the wood in sections, leaving behind a tarnished beige undercoat—a sickly primer color beginning to seep through and take over.
If you squinted your eyes, it was easy to see that the historical house had once been a beautiful and striking manor. Two large columns at the entrance nodded to its grandeur, and several steps led up to a gorgeous double-door entrance with inlaid blue, green, and yellow stained glass depicting birds in the trees, obviously inspired by the amazing views that surrounded them. The doors hadn’t been removed yet, but it looked like they soon would be as the porch that had once wrapped around the front and sides of the mansion had already been removed and replaced with caution tape. Pretty windows on all three stories were now a misfit of broken glass and boarding. Around each window were intricately cut wood designs that added a whimsical fringe and decoration. Most were broken, hanging loose or completely absent. The wind, picking up now, caused loose pieces to rattle against the house.
Glancing behind her, Katie saw the small crowd of construction workers and a couple of other bystanders leaning over the yellow tape, trying to get a look at the scene. At least the area had been cleared quickly and there were hopes of preserving the site.
Katie and McGaven kept their course and walked toward the crime scene. Forensic Supervisor John Blackburn was organizing evidence containers and readying himself to take photographs when instructed, but he kept his distance and waited for Katie to get a first look. He nodded as she walked past.
Detective Bryan Hamilton stood next to a deputy, waiting for Katie. His perfectly pressed suit seemed out of place around the chaotic property. He appeared annoyed, running his fingers anxiously through his sparse hair, but forced a short-lived smile as she approached.
“How would you like to handle this, Detective?” Katie asked respectfully, knowing she was treading on his territory and making sure that her presence wasn’t going to cause any more antagonism than was absolutely necessary.
H seemed to relax a little. “It’s your show, Scott.” He then nodded to McGaven behind her.
“We are all on the same side,” said Katie. “I’ll tell you what I see so CSI can get started as quickly as possible.” It was better to include the detective than to alienate him or anyone else at the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department.
Hamilton hesitated for a moment, and then accompanied Katie toward the sheet shielding the trench.
“Who found the body?” she asked, stopping to look at him.
Detective Hamilton turned and pointed. “The construction foreman; well, actually, one of his bulldozer operators.” He looked at his notes. “The foreman is Bob Bramble. He’s the short guy in the red shirt.”
Katie picked him out from the crowd, and then crouched to study all the heavy shoe prints around the area where she stood. “Did anyone go past this area?”
“I don’t think so. The foreman had enough sense to stop everything immediately and call the police,” the detective said.
There were several yellow markers at the edge of the property marking the beginning of the crime scene. They were at the side of the land farthest away from the house, overlooking the dense forest where the excess water was being redirected. It looked like the bulldozers were bringing more dirt in, in order to even out the area before the final grading and scraping, and the extra rain water had forced the older soil to collapse.
As Katie slowly walked to the edge of the property, she noticed that the earthmoving equipment stopped towering above the crime scene on the flat ground and about ten feet before the final resting place of the body. The activity from the large construction machines had caused the ground to separate. She limited her movement as she paused where she estimated the foreman and other workers had stood.
Pain pressed against her eyebrows as a slight vertigo washed through her vision for a moment.
Hamilton and McGaven waited patiently as she took a few steps to the left and then the right, studying the erosion of the hillside and how the body appeared to have tumbled out. It was unclear how deep the victim had been buried, but Katie wondered if it was a coincidence she was buried at an obvious drainage point.
“Is this extreme erosion after an extra rainy month? Or just the usual?” she asked, deliberately not looking at the body yet. No one offered any type of response, so she scrutinized the surroundings, looking for anything that might have either disturbed the area recently or been accidentally left at the scene.
Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. She felt her hands tremble so she curled her fingers against her palms to mask the movement. Her vision blurred slightly, causing things to appear dull and leaving her equilibrium somewhat off balance.
Not now…
An all-too-familiar prickly sensation travelled down her arms and legs, confirming her worst fear. Anxiety was the curse she carried with her after two tours in the army. Her post-traumatic stress was something she realized that she would most likely have to bear forever. Some days were easier than others—and she hadn’t had an episode in almost two months.
Nothing stays away forever…
Standing at the edge of the crime scene, she fought the invisible enemy that raged within her like a silent storm. If she gave in to it, a full force panic attack would ensue where she would not be able to conduct her investigative duties. She knew all eyes were on her, so she made sure that she breathed slowly and steadily. It calmed her nerves and brought down the adrenalin, but her sensations were still heightened, leaving her feeling unbalanced and totally vulnerable. She hated that feeling more than anything else.
This wasn’t her first crime scene, but she had only been involved in a handful. It wasn’t the thought of a dead body, but rather the reality of another victim. She had seen many victims on the battlefield, from both sides, and there wasn’t anything trivial about it. Every life was a story, just as every death was an ending.
Katie focused on the ground to steady herself. Water was still trickling from the opposite edge of the property and then down into the wooded area in several places. Five feet from the leveled edge was the nude body of a young woman, who appeared to have been dislodged and tumbled through a couple of revolutions before stopping in her current position. Twisted. Broken.
Katie reached into her pocket and took out a pair of plastic gloves. Pulling them on to her trembling hands, she prepared to descend the hillside. She took one step and realized that her running shoes would be ruined from the amount of water and mud she had navigated so far. She sighed but continued sideways and with caution, keeping a watchful eye for any evidence, but making sure that she didn’t take a fall down the hillside herself.
As she inched closer, something in the mud caught her attention. It was pink and the sunlight made it appear opalescent.
“I have something,” she said and leaned in to carefully remove the mud around the object, revealing a long, torn fingernail decorated with pink nail polish. It had been ripped from the cuticle at the base of the nail. It definitely looked real.
