Page 55 of Fatal Fame
Could her grandfather help?
19
Noah was already awake and two cups of coffee deep into reviewing Pierce Landry's case files when his phone rang at 5:52 AM. The shrill tone cut through the pre-dawn quiet of his kitchen. Rain had drummed against his bedroom windows with a steady persistence that meant the weather system had settled in for the day, turning October's colorful beauty into a gray wash of water and falling leaves.
"Noah?" The voice belonged to Dispatch Supervisor Linda Hayes. "We've got a hunter reporting a body in the woods behind the old Hale property."
Noah's stomach dropped immediately. "What's the hunter's name?"
"Gary Brennan, lives over on Elm Ridge Road. He's waiting at the trailhead off Route 3, says he can guide officers to the scene but he doesn't want to go back there alone."
Noah was already pulling on clothes, his mind racing through the logistics of processing a crime scene in weather that would complicate evidence collection and destroy trace materials with every passing minute. "Get McKenzie and Callieon the line. Full forensics response, and contact the State Police crime scene unit."
“They’ve already been notified."
Heading to the Hale property took Noah through downtown High Peaks, past businesses that were just beginning to show signs of morning activity. The rain had intensified since he'd left his house, turning the streets slick and reducing visibility to the point where streetlights were still necessary.
Route 3 wound through forest that had been transformed by the weather from autumn beauty into something more ominous. The mountains that usually provided a dramatic backdrop for the community were hidden behind low clouds and driving rain, while the trees that lined the roadway seemed to lean inward like spectators at a tragedy.
Noah's radio crackled with updates from responding units.
Gary Brennan waited in his pickup truck at the trailhead, engine running and windshield wipers fighting a losing battle against the torrential downpour. He was a man in his sixties with the weathered appearance of someone who'd spent decades in Adirondack forests, but his usual outdoor confidence had been replaced by obvious distress at what he'd discovered.
"Officer." Brennan climbed out of his truck, pulling a rain hood over graying hair.
“Where’s the body?” Noah asked.
“Follow me.”
“You want to tell me what were you doing out here?” Noah asked, pulling up the collar on his jacket.
"Hunting. I've been using these woods for thirty years, and I've never seen anything like what's back there."
Noah introduced himself while studying the trailhead that led toward the abandoned Hale property. The original house had been demolished years ago after the murders, but thefoundation and surrounding forest remained as a kind of unofficial memorial to Rebecca and Jacob Hale.
"How far in is the body?"
"Maybe half a mile, just past where the old house used to sit. There's a clearing back there. I hope you have a strong stomach, it’s not pretty." Brennan paused, seeming to gather himself. "Whoever did this wanted it to be found. Wanted people to see what they'd done."
The trail was already turning to mud under the constant rainfall, making footing treacherous and guaranteeing that any footprint evidence would be destroyed within hours. Noah radioed for tarps and portable shelters to be brought to the scene, understanding that preserving evidence would require a lot of effort under the deteriorating conditions.
McKenzie arrived, bringing additional personnel and equipment that would be essential for proper crime scene documentation. Deputy Thorne followed minutes later
"Have we confirmed if it’s him yet?" McKenzie asked, checking his equipment while rain streamed off his jacket.
"Unknown male, apparent homicide, staging that suggests connection to the original Hale murders." Noah started up the trail, his boots already caked with mud that made every step an effort. "Brennan thinks the body's been there a while as it had signs of animal predation."
The hike through the forest felt like traveling through a tunnel of gray water and skeletal branches. The rain had stripped most of the remaining leaves from the trees, leaving bare limbs that reached across the trail like grasping fingers. Visibility was limited to perhaps twenty feet in any direction, creating an atmosphere of isolation that made it easy to understand why someone would choose this location.
The foundation of the original Hale house appeared through the rain like a ghost from the community's traumatic past.Concrete blocks and overgrown landscaping marked where a family had lived and died, where a double murder had shattered the illusion of mountain safety and introduced darkness that had never been fully resolved.
Gary Brennan stopped at the edge of what had once been the backyard, pointing toward a grove of mature pines that stood about fifty yards from the house foundation. "He's tied to that tree. I saw him from maybe thirty feet away and got out of there as fast as I could."
Noah approached the grove, every sense alert for details that might provide crucial evidence. The rain made observation difficult, but even from a distance he could see the pale form that had been positioned against the largest pine tree in ways that were clearly deliberate.
Landry's body had been secured to the tree with climbing rope, his arms pulled behind the trunk and bound at the wrists. His head hung forward at an angle, and his clothing—the same vintage band T-shirt and jeans he'd been wearing when he disappeared—was soaked through and darkened with substances that weren't just rainwater.
“Shit,” McKenzie breathed, stopping beside Noah as they took in the scene. "What a mess."
