Page 127 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Just the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth before it disappeared. Enough to make the hair along the back of my neck stand up.

"Wrap it up, Reed."

Walker's voice carried across the clearing before he'd even reached the ditch.

"We're moving him."

I straightened.

"We're not done."

"You've got enough."

"We've barely started."

Walker stopped a few feet away, planting both hands on his hips.

"The state's taking over. The body's going to the county morgue before every reporter within fifty miles shows up with a camera."

"The scene isn't clear."

"We'll process it at the lab."

"The lab doesn't have the fucking scene."

My jaw tightened.

"We haven't finished documenting the drag pattern, we haven't measured the impressions, we haven't searched beyond the secondary tree line."

Walker rubbed both hands down his face.

"I don't have the manpower for another twelve-hour grid search."

"It's not about manpower. It's about time, about not losing evidence and keeping this circus off tomorrow's front page."

His patience finally snapped.

"I said move the fucking body."

The clearing went quiet. Nobody liked arguing with Walker in front of the state team. I looked at the ditch instead. Ignored him. My boots sank into the wet soil as I followed the disturbed ground another few yards. Boot impressions. Heavy. Deep. The tread was aggressive industrial work boots, maybe logging boots but the spacing bothered me.

Too even. Too controlled. Nearby, broken pine needles pointed toward the creek. Something heavy had been dragged. Not far. Just far enough. I crouched beside the marks. A faint smear across the moss. Not blood. Grease. Dark. Almost black. Vehicle grease? Chain lubricant? I couldn't tell.

Not yet.

Walker wanted the body gone. Whoever had done this wanted us to look at the victim.

I wanted to know why.

The drive back down the mountain passed in complete silence. The fog was finally beginning to lift, unravelling from the pines in long white ribbons as the first pale sunlight reached the valley.

None of us spoke.

My hands stayed locked around the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white beneath the leather. Ten women. Two other victims that were strategically placed. Now one man whose identity had been carved out of existence. Nothing fucking fits anymore. The pattern we'd been building for weeks had just shattered. It felt like reading a report where someone had quietly removed every second page.

My thoughts drifted somewhere they shouldn't have.

Back to yesterday. Back to the square. Collins. Standing too close. Leaning close to her. Invading her space.