The Last Sister (Columbia River)(53)

She took a flashlight, and they headed around the left side of the home.

“Think the kids would go inside?” Ava murmured.

“I trust the county locked it up tight, but I can guarantee you the kids tried every door and window.”

“Guarantee?”

“I was a nosy kid once,” Zander admitted. He would have been fascinated, oblivious to the disrespect, if this had occurred in his childhood neighborhood.

“I was too, but I wouldn’t try to enter a home where people had been murdered.”

“You can add this to your list of differences between the sexes.”

“Not all boys,” she added.

“Not all boys,” he agreed with a grin. He held up a hand as he heard young voices behind the home.

Ava sighed. “Crap. They must be at the tree.”

The two of them turned the corner and saw three boys who appeared to be eleven or twelve circling the trunk of the tree. A fourth was up the tree, several branches above where Sean Fitch had been hanged. The branch used in the hanging had been removed to process for evidence. Crime scene tape still circled a large portion of the backyard.

Zander fought back the instinct to yell at the boys. They don’t understand.

“A teaching moment,” Ava said quietly. She raised her voice. “Hey, kids? Can you get away from the tree and come over here for a minute?”

Four startled faces spun their way. “It’s the cops!” The boys froze and then scrambled, each darting in a different direction. The boy in the tree shot down the trunk quicker than an angry bear and took off, the red hood of his jacket flapping behind him.

Zander took a few rapid steps after one and halted, glancing back at Ava. Her hands were on her hips, acceptance in her expression.

There was no point.

“We could wait by the bikes,” he suggested.

“What for? I suspect we scared them enough to stay away, and I doubt they would listen to the lecture I was ready to give.”

“How’d they know we were law enforcement?”

She gave him a droll look. “You ooze law and order in your stance alone. Even if you weren’t FBI, they’d struggle to look you in the eye.”

“‘Ooze’? Is that a compliment?”

“I think so.”

Zander wasn’t so sure. “They probably saw us here the other day. No doubt spying from a distance.”

“Possibly.” Ava exhaled, scanned the backyard clearing, and eyed the dense forest that started beyond the police tape. “How do you want to do this?”

“We should have more people.”

“In a perfect world. But it’s you and me.” She spread out her arms, stepping away from Zander. “Fingertip-to-fingertip distance. We’ll start by that big fir and pace a grid. Keep an eye out for anything that a watcher could have left behind . . . trash . . . footprints.”

They spent the next half hour attempting to walk in straight lines while stepping around thick trunks and underbrush, sweeping every inch of the ground with their lights. Every few feet Zander looked up, tracing his beam up the bark and branches of the firs and trying to avoid being poked in the eye by falling pine needles. The gigantic trees creaked and slowly swayed in the wind.

“The ground’s fucking moving,” Ava said.

Zander had noticed it too. “The dirt is so wet and saturated, the wind is making the roots lift.”

She looked up. “If one starts to fall, it will probably hit ten others before crashing down. We should have time to get out of the way.”

“They won’t fall. Aren’t roots supposed to keep the trees in place?”

“You ever seen the roots of a fir?” she asked. “They make a ball. Totally out of proportion to the weight and height of the rest of the tree.”

They searched in silence for several more minutes, methodically moving flashlights right and left and kicking leaves out of the way. He was glad he’d grabbed the lights; a thorough search would have been impossible without them. He swung his beam of light forward and choked.

“Jesus.”

He gaped at the older woman in front of him and sought to catch his breath. She stood fifteen feet away, her empty hands at her sides and her happy smile on display. His brain registered that she posed no immediate threat, but he slowly unzipped his heavy jacket.

“Can we help you?” Ava asked. She’d gasped when Zander swore and moved so her left hip was toward the woman, her weapon hand free and her light on the woman’s face.

“Oh, no, I’m just watching.” Her young voice didn’t match the gray hair and lined face. Her long coat was a blotchy dark tan that was possibly a result of its having never been washed, and her rubber boots were muddy.

He wondered if she was homeless.

“What have you been watching?” Ava asked. Zander stayed silent. Ava had an unusual low, mellow voice that could calm anyone—including him—but his heart was still trying to beat its way out of his chest.

“You two looking around. Saw those boys.” The woman frowned, deep grooves forming between her brows. “They shouldn’t be here,” she added in a serious tone.

“Why not?”

Her chin came up and her eyes flashed. “They just shouldn’t. This isn’t a place for kids.”