The Naturalist (The Naturalist #1)(48)

I set the garbage bag on the counter. “I think she was murdered.”

Palmer eyes the bag and places her hand near her sidearm at her waist. “I’m going to have to ask you to step back from the counter.”

I move back. “Sorry. I know this looks weird.”

“Just have a seat on the bench over there.” She points to a wall across from the long desk, then calls to the two policemen talking leisurely in the corner. “McKenna, Gunther, you guys want to step over here?”

They see Palmer’s posture and hop out of their seats to see what’s going on. The one with McKenna on his name badge is tall with a thick black mustache. Gunther is shorter and stockier with red hair.

“What’s up?” asks McKenna, shooting a suspicious glance toward me.

“This fella says he knows something about the Chelsea Buchorn disappearance.”

“I thought she just moved away,” replies Gunther.

“That’s what I said.” She holds up the clipboard for them to look at.

McKenna takes it from her and reads it over. “I guess state police put her on there.” He shakes his head. “They need to update this.”

“What do you think you know?” Gunther asks me.

“I found her body.”

McKenna lowers the clipboard. “Come again?”

“Her body. I believe I found it.” I nod to the garbage bag. “I think that’s her coat.”

Gunther moves over to the bag. “When you say you found her body, do you mean you found something you think belonged to her and think her body is nearby?”

As he says this, he begins to open the bag and releases the putrid stench of decaying flesh.

“Oh, shit!” Gunther says.

McKenna pulls a pair of blue gloves from a pocket. He grabs the coat and pulls it free of the bag.

In the stark white light of the police station, I notice what I thought was dirt is the dark reddish-brown stain of blood.

Gunther eyes the slashes in the coat. “Holy shit.”

McKenna puts the coat back in the bag. “Where’d you find this?”

“Off Highway 90. I have a GPS position.”

McKenna ties the top of the bag in a knot. “Carole, call Steve Whitmyer. Get him up here.”

She picks up the phone.

“Gunny, get a map and have Mister . . . what’s your name?”

“Theo Cray. Professor Theo Cray.” I added my title in an effort to not sound like a crackpot but end up looking like an ass.

“Well, Professor, could you write down on the map where you found the body?”

Gunther motions me over to a desk. He digs around through a drawer, then pulls out a map. “So how did you find this body?” he asks as he finds me a pen. His face seems to have lost its color.

“I was looking for it.”

“Looking for it? How long’ve you been searching?”

“Maybe an hour?” I’m searching the map.

“An hour? That’s pretty good luck . . .”

“I’ll say. But I had a good idea where to look.” I tap the spot on the map. “I also had Amber Harrison and her boyfriend Devon helping me.”

Gunther doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Huh. Well, mark it on the map.” He slides a notepad next to the map. “Use this to make any notes.”

I circle the area and start writing down the specifics about the log and how to find the body.

Gunther walks away to talk to McKenna and Palmer. I use Google Maps to check the location against the map they gave me.

Over my shoulder I notice the three of them are having a small conference, their voices too low for me to hear.

Amber and Devon should be here by now. They also said they were going to have their friend Charlie, the police chief’s son, meet us.

I send Amber a text.

Where are you guys?

I go back to my notes about the body. When I finish, McKenna is standing over me. “Is that it?”

“Yes. I’d be happy to go there and show you.”

“If we can’t find it, we’ll bring you out there. In the meantime, I’d like you to tell Officer Gunther everything you know. We have a conference room over here.”

Gunther walks me down the hall, and I have a strange déjà vu about the first time I was pulled into a room to talk to a police officer.

He thought I was a murderer.

The way Gunther keeps a careful distance and watchful eye on me, I don’t feel like I’m being treated merely as a concerned citizen.

There’s still no response from Amber and Devon.





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE


ACCESSORIES

The so-called conference room looks strangely like an interrogation room.

There’s a video camera in the corner, just like the last one I was in. Gunther unlocks a cabinet and flips a few switches. The red light blinks to life.

“I’m bad at taking notes,” he explains, nodding to the camera. “This is just so we can understand, in your words, how you found the body.”

He’s trying to be friendly but comes across as patronizing. There’s also something distant about him. He doesn’t possess Detective Glenn’s smooth ability to glide you through a conversation.

“First off,” he asks, “how’d you get that shiner?” He points a pen toward my face.