No, he said without looking away. Not like this.
At that point Klassen County deputy Cal Meckler was approaching Pratts vehicle, prompting Koehler to smile.
Jeez, that kid mustve roped off a twenty-mile perimeter, Koehler said as Meckler stepped up to Pratts side.
Weve cordoned the scene. Meckler wiped his brow. Is there anything else I can help you with?
Thank you, Pratt said. Well need help with the canvas. But well take that up at the meeting after weve learned more from our forensic people to help guide us in what were looking for.
And when and where will that meeting take place?
Likely tomorrow morning in Rennerton.
Thank you, sir. Ill be there, willing to help, even if Im off duty.
We appreciate that, son.
Ill search the roadside leading to the scene for anything tossed.
The canine team already went through it but go ahead if you want.
After the deputy left, Koehler shook his head, amused.
Hes a keener, Les.
Nothing wrong with that.
Pratt had been keen himself, especially after he was shot in the leg after hed stopped a speeding car near Duluth when he was a greenhorn state trooper. While he was recovering, he decided to become a detective.
Then you blink, twenty-five years go by, and youre confronted with this.
Pratts stomach twisted again at the gruesome pictures of the victims hands and head.
No, hed never seen anything like this.
The thing that hit home: Pratts two daughters were about the same age as this young woman.
Weve got to find the animal that did this, he thought, glancing toward the wooded area where the crime scene people were working. Pratt was counting on them to find something to guide him.
They were very good.
A little deeper into the woods from where Pratt and Koehlers vehicle was parked, Staci Anderson, coordinator for the BCAs Crime Scene Team, glanced at the sky, hoping the weather would hold.
Outdoor scenes were tough-rain could wash away trace evidence.
Anderson took stock of her team, clothed in white coveralls, shoe covers, latex gloves. They were forensic scientists, expert in their disciplines such as chemistry, biology, latent prints, firearms and trace analysis. They worked well with the group that came up from Midwest Medical Examiners Office in Ramsey.
All members knew their jobs. They worked quietly, efficiently.
Anderson and her team were devotees of the exchange theory of forensics, which held that with every scene the killer leaves a trace of something and leaves with something from it.
Itd been a long day already, Anderson thought, reviewing the work done and the work ahead. Theyd taken great care removing all the soil from around the body. It would be sifted for trace and other analysis. They were meticulous about collecting samples of vegetation and soil for study and later comparison. The trees and nearby brush and shrubs were examined for hair, thread, fibers, other materials or broken branches, anything indicative of a struggle.
They scrutinized the area for traces of phlegm, saliva, seminal fluid and other biological material, knowing that it was susceptible to rapid destruction by the elements. Additionally, they searched for shell casings, knives, anything that may have been used as a weapon.
It would be dark soon. Thats when theyd prepare a solution of water, sodium perborate, sodium carbonate and luminol to spray on the area in a process known as chemical luminescence, to detect blood. If the solution contacted blood it would react glowing blue under ultraviolet light.
They painstakingly identified foot and tire impressions, first eliminating those of the witnesses, local law enforcement and any known service vehicles. Fortunately, the scene was pristine in that regard. They photographed and made casts of the impressions they found for further analysis and comparison.
Things were going well, Anderson thought, as she collected her tablet and left the scene. She followed the flagged path of entry and exit to update Pratt, who got out of his vehicle when he saw her.
Wherere we at, Staci?
The ME says theyll be ready to transport the body before dark for an autopsy in Ramsey.
Pratt nodded.
Well do our spraying for blood then.
What about time frame on death? How long was she there?
Hard to pinpoint, well defer to the ME. But the way things look, with insects, status of decomposition, et cetera, I estimate less than a week, maybe even three or four days, hard to say.
All right.
Once we can analyze the tire impressions we may have a suspect vehicle for you.
That would be good.
One other thing. Anderson cued some clear photographs on her tablet. Take a look.
They were very tight, clear pictures of marble-sized, circular impressions in soft soil in a grouping of three in a triangular shape.
Whats that?
Were fairly certain these are impressions of a tripod. Now, given this is bird-watching country, they couldve been made by birders.
Right.
They couldve also been made by the killer.
Are you saying he may have recorded this?
Anderson nodded.
38
New York City
Sirens echoed in the night when Kate got out of the cab at 6th Avenue near Times Square and walked along West 46th Street.
A few hours ago, Hugh Davidson had called her at home, excited that hed arranged a meeting with a computer network security expert who was an ex-contractor with the CIA and the NSA.
We have to meet him tonight, Hugh said. Were lucky. These people rarely step out of the shadows. Our guys been involved in some nefarious projects.
The bar where theyd arranged to meet was slivered between the Cafe Ocho and Samanthas Hair Salon. Kate arrived early and stayed outside to scan the street for people coming and going. There was nothing unusual, just another night in Manhattan after spending a frustrating, fruitless day following leads.
This meeting with Hughs contact could be something.
Now, while waiting on the street for him, Kate used her phone to check on the competition. She read the latest Associated Press story on Rampart, a situational piece containing no real news. It emphasized the challenges of identifying the staggering number of new victims. Its only a matter of time before they identify my sister. Kate pushed the thought aside and stood firm, drawing on Nancys encouragement to never give up her fight to learn the truth about Vanessa.
Thats why shed come down here tonight. Plus, she was still on the story. She followed her personal rule to avoid taking the subway after dark. Having been alone much of her life, she knew how to take care of herself. When it came to meeting news sources who were strangers, especially those with questionable backgrounds, she kept her guard up.
My name and face are out there, along with a lot of freaky people.
Twenty minutes and still no sign of Hugh. Kate texted him. Maybe hes in the bar already? When she didnt get a response, she went in.
Live piano music was playing above the laughter of the after-work crowd blending with the conversations of the night crowd. As the TVs above the bar flashed with sports and news, Kate searched for Hugh.
It was futile.
Fortunately a booth nearby was emptying and she moved fast to claim it. A server cleared the table, Kate ordered a diet cola, then her phone vibrated with a text from Hugh.
A pipe burst in my bldg. Im flooded. Cant make it. Sorry.
Darn, Hugh. How will I know him?
Hell know you.
Whats his name? Appearance?
Ive never seen him before.
What!?!
He goes by Viper.
Seriously?
Yes. Sorry, Kate. I have to go. Good luck.
Great. Shaking her head, she set her phone on the table.
Her drink came with a bowl of peanuts. She munched on a few as she took inventory in a bid to spot her source. The place was packed with Manhattan white-collar types. She noticed a man nearby warming a stool at the bar. Tie loosened, he was stealing glimpses of her while pretending to watch the TV overhead.
What? Now he was grinning and offering Kate little waves.
He couldnt be Viper. No chance.
She turned away, sipped her drink and checked the time on her phone.
Viper was half an hour late.
This was starting to feel like a washout.
Well, she still hadnt exhausted the Denver angle. She had more work to do following up on the information Will Goodsill had sent her. Maybe there was a link to Nelson and who he really was. She consoled herself with the belief that the Colorado case still held promise, before she glanced at one of the TVs showing a news report on Rampart.
A sudden wave of sadness rolled over her. For the first time she realized that shed have to think about planning a funeral for Vanessa.
Kate shut her eyes tight for a second.
How much more of this I can take?
Kate Page?
A man in his twenties-early twenties-materialized at her table.
Yes.
Im a friend of Hugh Davidsons. We were to meet.
The stranger was about six feet tall with a medium build. He had dark, slicked-back hair cut short, a stubbled goatee and stud in his left lobe. He was wearing a polo shirt under his leather jacket.
I suppose I should ask you your code name.
He started to grin, nodding to himself.
Viper. But you can call me Erich.
All right, have a seat, Erich.
As he removed his jacket, Kate noticed small tattoos on his toned arms.
May I get you something? A waitress set down a coaster.
Tomato juice with ice.
After the server left Kate asked why hed ordered the juice.
Are you under twenty-one, Erich?
Tomato juice with ice.
After the server left Kate asked why hed ordered the juice.
Are you under twenty-one, Erich?
Im twenty-two. His eyes went to Kates phone. May I?
She pushed it his way and he inspected it without touching it.
What was that all about? Kate asked.
Nothing. He shrugged. I have an interest in the types of phones people use.
Youre twenty-two, and Hugh says you did some work for the CIA and NSA. Is that true?
Yes.
What kind of work?
Network security.
What exactly did you do?
I cant discuss that.
Figures. Oh, Hugh couldnt make it because-
I know why.
Who are you working for now?
Im freelancing here and there. I do okay.
After Erichs juice arrived, Kate waited until the server had left.
Okay, then, she said. Hugh told you why I need help.
Youre trying to find Carl Nelson, the guy the FBIs looking for.
Yes. Are you willing to help me, to help me confidentially?