Shadows Reel (Joe Pickett #22)(8)

“From the outset, the room is in disarray . . .” Norwood said as he described the scene Joe had observed earlier. He detailed the tools on the kitchen counter and the chair with the tape on it.

“A substance that looks like partially coagulated blood is on the drill bit,” Norwood stated as he leaned over and narrowed his eyes at the tool.

“There’s also blood stains on the floor around the chair itself and what looks to be arterial spray on the ceiling.”

Joe looked up. He’d missed that. The blood spray looked as if a painter had flung his brush through the air over his head.

Norwood raised his camera and shot dozens of photos in rapid succession while slowly turning 360 degrees. Joe stayed behind him so he wouldn’t be in any of the shots.

“There might be latent prints on the tools and other surfaces,” Norwood said. “I don’t observe any footprints on the floor or any obvious hair or fiber evidence, but that will involve further testing . . .”

He went on for the record.

While Norwood talked, Joe took a closer look around the room and took photos on his cell phone camera. A pile of books was on the floor where the cheap shelving had been pulled down from the wall. Kizer was apparently not a reader of novels except for the Lord of the Rings trilogy, which looked decades old. He recognized the titles of several classic fly-fishing and fly-tying manuals. And he noted well-thumbed World War II history paperbacks: The Longest Day by Cornelius Ryan, Band of Brothers by Stephen Ambrose, and Beyond Band of Brothers by Major Dick Winters, as well as T. A. Larson’s History of Wyoming.

“It appears the subject was bound by duct tape to the chair and tortured using common hand tools,” Norwood said. “Probably his own.” Then: “I wonder what they wanted from a fishing guide?”

It was a question Joe had been asking himself. He had no answer. Judging by Kizer’s possessions, it didn’t appear that he had much money. Fishing guides rarely did.

Joe followed Norwood with his recorder through the small kitchen toward the back screen door. Norwood carefully stepped around to the side of it and Joe did the same.

“I observe blood spatter on the linoleum leading out through the back door to the yard,” Norwood said as they followed it. He paused before pushing the screen door open.

“There’s a dirty frypan on the stove and a half-eaten plate of scrambled eggs and bacon on the counter. My initial observation from what I can see is that the victim was having his breakfast when the perpetrators struck.”



* * *



—

After photographing and describing what he saw in the backyard, and making a note to check for prints on the steel surfaces of the empty gasoline cans, Norwood turned and summed up his observations. Joe held the recorder out so the tech’s words could be heard clearly.

“Although this is extremely preliminary and could be contradicted by further examination of the evidence, it appears that the subject was interrupted during breakfast and then was bound and tortured by at least one individual, then dragged or led out to the backyard and burned by an accelerant. My preliminary guess is that the crime occurred in the early-morning hours, as indicated by the uneaten breakfast, as well as the partial but not complete coagulation stage of the droplet rim desiccation. It is not fully separated and dry yet.

“It also appears,” he continued, “that the victim was transported from the scene after the crime to rancher Lorne Trumley’s adjoining property and tossed over the fence, which is three and a half feet tall. That suggests the perpetrator was either a very strong man or, more likely, it was two or more individuals, because the victim was at least a hundred and sixty pounds, maybe one seventy.

“There is a lot of additional crime scene investigation needed to complete before offering up anything more definitive.”

He looked up at Joe and said, “Okay, you can turn it off.”

Joe did. Then he popped out the digital card and handed it to Norwood.

“Thank you,” Norwood said, dropping it into the breast pocket of his coveralls.

“There is a lot of physical evidence here,” Joe said. “Why leave the house like this? Why not clean it up or burn it down?”

“I was asking myself the same question,” Norwood said.

“Maybe they didn’t get the chance,” Joe speculated. “Maybe Lorne found that body too soon? Or something interrupted their plans to come back and get rid of the evidence?”

“Beats me at this point,” Norwood said. “But there’s a lot here. More than there usually is, I mean. Tire tracks, torture tools, plenty of surfaces where we might be able to pull a print. At least I hope so.”

Joe nodded.

Norwood leaned closer to Joe and whispered, “Do you think Tibbs is up to this?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Joe replied.

As he said it, Sheriff Tibbs rounded the corner of the house, trailed by Deputies Steck and Bass. He still looked distressed, and his mood was further blackened when he saw Joe standing next to Norwood on the back porch.

“Joe, we’ve got this,” Tibbs said through tightly clenched teeth.

“You bet,” Joe said. “Just doing what I could to help Gary out.”

“You’ve helped out plenty,” Tibbs said flatly. Steck and Bass exchanged amused grins.