The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(46)

“He cut it up, didn’t he?” Vail pulled her eyes away from the rusty tool.

Hurdle shoved both hands in his pockets. “He did.”

“Didn’t want it found,” Curtis said. “Ever.”

“So much for the best laid plans of men.” Vail shook her head.

“You wanna see the body parts?” Hurdle asked. “You know, so you can form your own opinions. Without bias.”

Smartass. “Let’s go take a look.”

Hurdle lifted his brow. “Detective, what about you?”

“I’m good,” Curtis said.

“I got this.” Johnson gestured with her chin. “Follow me.”

Johnson led the way out back, trudging through the snow, which was still falling—though it had slowed to a flurry.

“You sure you want to see this? Or has the marshal gotten under your skin?” She glanced at Vail and flashed a wide smile.

Vail shared the laugh. “You know me too well, Leslie. Posturing aside, though, still a good idea to take a look.”

They walked up to a temporary tent where three crime scene technicians were kneeling over a shallow grave, bright Klieg lights flooding the area.

Vail stepped up and introduced herself. “Find anything unusual?”

The lead crime scene detective was working with a grid, taking a photo of what looked like a hand. “You mean other than a hacked up body buried behind a barn?”

Okay, I deserved that. “Yeah. Other than that.”

“He knew what he was doing. Cut through the joints. Shoulder, knee, hip.”

“But why? I mean, what if someone sees him hacking away at the body?”

“We have to take a better look around tomorrow,” Johnson said, “when we’ve got some daylight. He probably cut the body up somewhere safe, where no one would see. Maybe inside the barn.”

“Fair enough. He probably enjoyed doing it, too. He’s been under extreme stress since the escape. Could’ve been a pressure release valve for him.”

Upon returning to the barn, Ray Ramos was there with Travis Walters and Jim Morrison.

Hurdle peered around Morrison when the door opened and found Vail. “I told them all to get their tails over here rather than sitting in the command center by themselves. We’ll go through some things, then break for the night.”

“I gave them all a quick and dirty rundown of what we’re dealing with here,” Curtis said.

“You get some good impressions?” Hurdle asked.

“I did,” Vail said. “Body parts were severed at the joints, which was unnecessary. He could’ve buried a whole body just as well as one in pieces.”

“Easier to dig a smaller hole,” Ramos said.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Vail said. “I’m no carpenter, but I’m pretty sure it takes a lot longer to use a wood saw to cut up a body than it does to dig a larger grave.”

“Affirmative,” Walters said. “I dabble in my spare time. With woodworking.”

I didn’t think you dabbled with severed body parts.

“But not only did he have to dig a hole,” Ramos said, “he had to dig a hole in frozen ground—after he cleared the snow away. A smaller hole makes sense.”

“All true,” Walters said. “But it’s still easier than sawing through multiple joints.”

“Either way,” Vail said, “he was taking a big chance. He had to stick around a substantial amount of time to dig the hole or sever the limbs—which is extremely messy and a lot of effort. Even if he did the cutting in a place where he wouldn’t be seen, it’s still taking a huge, unnecessary risk. It’d fit a smaller grave, yeah, but cutting it up doesn’t make it harder to find.”

“Meaning what?” Morrison asked.

“Meaning that this could be significant. If this was a new case where I didn’t know the killer, I’d say this is part of his ritual. But we know who this offender is. I’m not talking about identity but his psychological basis for the behavior he engages in.”

“And?” Hurdle said.

“And I can’t say this makes a lot of sense. It would if it fit the ritual we’ve seen in his past murders. But it doesn’t.”

“So how do you explain it?”

Vail thought about that a moment. “This wasn’t a typical victim. If I had to guess on the sequence of events, he was cold and hungry and tired. He came upon the house, saw the barn, and figured he’d take the path of least resistance. Spend the night there, keep out of sight, then in the morning stake out the house, wait for the owner to leave, then break in and get some food, maybe take a shower and get a change of clothes. Cash, if there was any in the house. If he was lucky, a firearm.

“But William Reynolds needed something in the barn and found Marcks sleeping.”

“How do you know he was sleeping?” Walters asked.

“I don’t. But if he wasn’t sleeping, he probably wouldn’t have still been in the barn. And based on the blood here, our vic was killed in the barn, not in the house.”

“Your point?” Ramos asked.

“Just that this wasn’t a planned kill. Probably the opposite. It was one of necessity. Once Reynolds stumbled onto Marcks, he was a goner. Marcks couldn’t take a chance on Reynolds blabbering about his whereabouts.”