Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Finlay Donovan, #3)(50)
Vero ushered me ahead of the other teams, pretending not to notice Riley and Max when they waved to get our attention. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go,” Vero said, dragging me by my coat as the instructors looked on.
“Maybe we shouldn’t seem so eager to go looking for a body.”
“Don’t be so uptight. It’s just like an Easter egg hunt, only better.”
“It’s twenty-eight degrees out here, it’s dark, and I don’t see any chocolate. Tell me how this is better.”
“Because this time, we don’t have to worry about getting caught.” She hustled farther ahead of the pack. I blew out a stream of fog as I struggled to keep up with her. “Let’s start looking there.” She pointed at the edge of a shadowy tree line and handed me the map. I drew my phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight. She yanked it from my hand and turned it off. “What are you doing with that? You know we’re not supposed to bring our phones to class! The instructors will deduct points if they catch you with it, and I am not losing this thing to Mrs. Haggerty.” She shoved my phone back in my pocket and pulled a standard flashlight from her coat. She shone it in front of us, sweeping it in broad strokes over the ground as we walked.
“Why are we stopping to look here? The other teams are all moving deeper into the woods.” Riley and Max’s flashlight was little more than a speck through the trees. Even Mrs. Haggerty and her grandson had nearly disappeared from sight.
“Nick said we’re looking for an expeditious grave. Expeditious means quick—”
“I know what expeditious means.”
“If you were hauling around a body and you wanted to get rid of it quick, how far into the woods would you want to drag it? I say we start close to the trail.”
I didn’t argue, mostly because I didn’t feel like walking any farther. We picked our way through the brush, the beam of her light intersecting with the others in a filmy kaleidoscope of patterns as the rest of the class searched in the distance. Vero knelt beside an uneven stretch of ground, shining her light into a pile of sticks and debris.
“Look,” she said, ducking closer and angling her head. “Do you see that?” A flicker of white showed through the dead foliage. I plucked a loose branch from the pile, revealing a mannequin’s arm underneath.
“Detective, we found it!” Vero called out, hauling away another branch.
A chorus of resentful moans sounded through the woods. Footsteps crackled through the brush, beams of light converging as the other teams formed a semicircle behind us and leaned close, eager to see.
Vero and I tossed away the last of the ground cover, unveiling a shallow dip in the dirt. The plastic limbs of a CPR dummy protruded from the hole.
“Nice job,” Nick called out as he hobbled toward us. “Did anyone check to see if our victim is breathing?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, sir,” Riley said behind me.
Nick laughed as the teams parted to let him pass. “You know what they say about assumptions. They make an ass of you and…” Nick paused in front of the gravesite. His eyes narrowed at the pile of disconnected limbs. “Very funny, guys,” he said, throwing accusing looks at each of the instructors. “Which one of you knuckleheads dismembered my mannequin?” The teachers barked out a few surprised laughs.
“Check it out, Detective.” Max circled around to the far side of the grave, aiming her flashlight at the dummy’s face. “There’s a name written on the victim’s forehead.”
“Let me see that.” Nick hobbled around the grave and reached for her flashlight. He leaned on his cane over the shallow hole. “Really hilarious, guys.” Nick’s light lifted to a group of chuckling instructors. “Apparently, the deceased has a name,” he said dryly. “Obviously, we can’t confirm the victim’s name is actually Carl without further investigation.”
Vero and I stiffened. She elbowed me in the ribs.
“I know!” I hissed.
“But I’m awarding thirty points to Officer Donovan and Officer Ruiz for locating the deceased,” Nick continued. “They will now be responsible for clearing and securing the area while the rest of you wait for the ME. That role will be played by Peter Kim, our forensic tech volunteer.” Pete trudged through the brush, carrying a plastic tote in one hand and his flashlight in the other, his lab coat peeking out from under his puffy parka. Vero and I lingered beside the grave while Pete met with the other teams outside the crime scene.
“Nice job,” Nick said, handing me a roll of yellow tape. His hand brushed my back as he went to join the rest of the class.
Bracken crackled under our feet as Vero and I got to work, stretching yellow tape around the bases of the trees. “The dummy is hacked to pieces,” I whispered. “And someone named the victim Carl. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“It has to be,” she whispered back. “There’s only a handful of people in this world who know how Carl Westover died, and not a single one of those people would be stupid enough to tell anyone that he was chopped into bits and stuffed into a freezer. We should stay cool,” she insisted as she tore the last of the tape from the roll. “None of the detectives seem concerned. And tons of people are named Carl, right? You saw how the instructors reacted. I bet one of them was just trying to screw with Nick. They probably watched too many episodes of The Walking Dead. That whole show is just eleven seasons of Andrew Lincoln dodging dismembered body parts while he shouts, ‘Carl!’” Vero bellowed the name in a raspy voice, doing her best impression of Rick Grimes while she staggered and made zombie faces.