Page 101 of Evil Bones
“Keep me posted,” I said.
Disconnecting, I heard Slidell address someone, then a wheezy exclamation.
“Well, I’ll be goddammed.”
Stashing the phone, I hurried toward him.
CHAPTER 23
The cop hadn’t been kidding.
The scene had been processed to hell and back. Vegetation had been stripped. Tape had been strung. Surfaces had been dusted. Pics had been taken.
Acorn stood to one side. On seeing us, he nodded but said nothing.
Thanks to orders from Nguyen, the corpse had been left in place. It lay belly-up, facing away from the path. Though dappled with shadows cast by the thick overhead canopy, its skin looked ghostly pale against the dark substrate upon which it lay.
Necrophagous insects had arrived and begun their recycling act. When I stepped closer, they rose in their usual buzzing cloud.
The person had died wearing a teal polo, blue plaid Bermudas, and sandals. The shorts had been pulled, or had worked their way down to knee level, making it evident that the deceased was male. A khaki bucket hat—the kind favored by fishermen—sat askew on the man’s head, blocking a view of his features from where I stood.
Brown paper bags covered the man’s hands and feet. Evidence markers circled him, each small yellow triangle indicating the location of an item that might or might not prove meaningful later.
Signs of scavenging were limited to the right arm and ear. I suspected neighborhood dogs, excited by the scent of death, but not hungry enough or feral enough to really go at it. Purpling on the man’s back and buttocks suggested he’d died where he lay.
“Sonofabitch.”
Pushing past Acorn, Slidell continued into the clearing and rounded the vic. His expression, more than his exclamation, caused something to grip my insides.
Skinny is a veteran of hundreds of murder investigations. He’s seen women stabbed so many times they appeared to have gone through shredders. Newborns wrapped in trash sacks and tossed into dumpsters. Transgender teens castrated, beaten, and strangled. Rarely does he emote at a scene.
Slidell’s face had gone tight with a mixture of feelings I couldn’t read. Disgust? Anger? Pain?
I glanced at Acorn, who’d paused at the trailhead.
No giveaways there.
A long second, then Acorn said, “I’m going to check that CSU collected everything and got all the pics they need. No reason those guys have to hang around.”
I stepped sideways as far as I could.
Acorn eased past me and disappeared back the way we’d come.
Moving forward, I circled the body and drew up next to Slidell.
One quick scan and the gut-grip tightened.
The cockeyed blue cap rested on enormous “what-me-worry?” ears. Mousy brown hair curled from below its band. The familiar letters gaped raw on the forehead beneath its visor. PE.
“Jesus.”
“Yeah,” Slidell agreed. “That’s why my ass is here.”
Appalled at what I was seeing, I said nothing.
“The asshole who used this spot for a body dump knew the area.”
“Agreed.” I spoke knowing Slidell was in “think aloud” mode. “Before CSU did their thing, that path was probably impossible to see.”
