Chapter 2
Wilton Cabin
“Sheriff, please. I need to leave.”
Sheriff Gray Benton, Bent to his friends, turned toward the office doorway where Valeri Erwin stood.
She stared at him, her face pale, dark eyes pleading for the requested reprieve.
As soon as he’d arrived, he’d sequestered her to the small office—the one downstairs room in the cabin that appeared untouched—and had a quick look around before making the necessary calls.
Then he’d asked her a few preliminary questions, but there was a hell of a lot more he needed to know.
Whatever had happened here, this was one hell of a clusterfuck.
Erwin shook her head, more tears streaming down her cheeks. Her body rocked with sobs. “I . . . I . . . please, just let me get out of here. I can’t bear it any longer.”
“The medical examiner is on the way, and there’s not a whole lot we can do until she does her thing. I have more questions.” He understood how difficult this was, but it was necessary. “Unfortunately those questions are best asked after I have the preliminary information only the ME can provide.”
Erwin wanted to get as far away from the scene as possible.
She was clearly devastated by her boss’s death.
There were four dead—all homicides—and the whole place smelled of coagulating blood, stale cigarettes, and booze.
Whatever went down here, it was preceded by one hell of a rowdy party. Not exactly the norm for the address.
Thomas Wilton, the property owner, was face down in the hot tub.
His wife lay on the steps a few yards away.
There was an unidentified male on the floor not much more than twenty feet from where Bent stood right now.
Along with an unidentified female, naked and also deceased, on the other side of the room, lying on the floor in front of the fridge.
In addition to all the blood and booze, there was evidence of drug use.
This was a total shit show, and he needed to somehow piece together what the hell had happened.
Sadly there wasn’t another soul around anywhere on the property .
. . except Valeri Erwin, who’d only arrived at this cabin just under an hour ago.
She scrubbed at her face. “Can I at least sit on the porch.” She shuddered. “The smell in here is . . .” Another shiver shook her small frame. Barely over five feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds, she looked like a kid, with her dark hair hanging like a curtain around her face.
Bent nodded. “The porch is fine, but do not leave. Got it?”
Her arms wrapped tightly around her, she nodded her understanding. “Got it.”
He watched her exit the front door and confirmed that she’d settled into a rocking chair.
She dropped her head into her hands and, judging by the way her shoulders shook, started to cry again.
Bent didn’t really know the woman, but he was aware that she worked for Thomas Wilton.
He’d seen her around town now and then. Her name had come up as a witness to a disagreement between two tenants in the rental on the corner of Washington and Franklin.
She lived there as well. The last he’d heard, Wilton had bought the place for her so she could kick out the offending tenants.
Bent hadn’t read too much into it at the time. Good help was hard to find, and the guy was rich. Or maybe there was something more going on between the boss and his assistant. Hadn’t really mattered until now.
Now everything mattered.
He removed his hat and plowed his fingers through his hair as he gazed across the massive living space of what had to be the biggest damned cabin he’d ever seen.
Now he had four dead, including the owner, and the owner’s personal assistant was the one to find them.
He glanced out the window at her once more, settled his hat back into place.
If he was lucky, Erwin would have some idea of how this began.
These kinds of murders didn’t just happen.
There would be some sort of buildup, however seemingly insignificant, and then a trigger point.
No indications of a burglary. The door was unlocked and ajar when she arrived, according to Erwin.
She swore she didn’t touch one thing other than the door and Wilton’s head and left arm.
At first she’d been so stunned by the coyote and all the bodies and blood, the reality that everyone was dead hadn’t sunk in.
She had tried to lift Wilton from the water, but then she’d realized it was too late.
Most anyone stumbling into a scene like this would have reacted the same.
Bent braced his hands on his hips and surveyed the room at large once more.
Upon first look it appeared the party had taken a bad turn.
Victim number one, the unidentified male on the floor near the couch, had been stabbed multiple times.
Defense wounds on the right arm and left hand.
According to Erwin, the coyote had been inside when she arrived, which explained the additional damage to the vic’s injured arm.
Bloody footprints, from bare feet, led from the dead man to victim two, the unidentified female, on the floor near the fridge, who had been stabbed as well.
Two wounds in the abdomen, one nick in the neck, which, judging by the amount of blood spewed onto the refrigerator and the floor, most likely penetrated the artery just enough to make one hell of a mess.
Those same footprints made a path to the set of French doors that led to the rear deck.
Outside, victim three, the owner of the property, Thomas Wilton, floated in the hot tub.
His wounds appeared far more defensive in nature.
From what Bent could see without removing the body from the water—which he could not do until the ME had a look—there was one stab wound in the middle of his back as well as random injuries scattered over his arms. There were probably others Bent could not see right now.
Wilton didn’t appear the type to go down easy.
Victim four, the wife, had fallen face down on the steps of the deck, hitting her head.
The reddish stains on her bare feet as well as the size told him the tracks in the blood were hers.
No visible knife wounds like the others.
Odd considering the consistent MO up until that point.
Based on the positioning of her body, she was obviously attempting to flee the danger.
She was the only one whose body had not gone into full rigor, which suggested the head injury had not been immediately fatal.
The fact that her head was turned to the right, showing off the damage to her forehead, also indicated she had survived long enough to at least move her head.
The question was, Did she just happen upon the victims and their killer, or was she the one wielding the knife and fell when she ran? So far there was no sign of a knife or any other weapon. Could be in the hot tub with Wilton.
Bent estimated the attack had occurred late Monday evening, maybe fifteen or so hours ago.
The murder weapon for three of the vics appeared to be a knife from the block on the kitchen counter.
The perp may have disposed of the knife or taken it with them.
Two deputies would be searching the cabin and grounds around it.
It hadn’t rained for days, so there was little chance of finding tire or footprints.
The fact that all involved in the deadly event were naked suggested a sex party.
Bent had spotted residue that he suspected was cocaine, as well as a bowl containing weed and rolling paper.
There was no shortage of alcohol. With all the bowls of snacks and charcuterie offerings scattered over tables and counters, it was a miracle there hadn’t been more scavengers inside when Erwin arrived.
Wilton had no criminal record or even a parking ticket, for that matter. There had never been a call about trouble at his property. But the man had a lot of wooded acres around him and no close neighbors, so any past disturbances may have gone unnoticed.
Bent surveyed the large great room once more, his attention resting lastly on Erwin beyond the front window. She had been employed by Wilton for long enough to know the man’s more personal history. Bent had a good many more questions for her.
“Sheriff!” Deputy Olson shouted.
Bent turned and started toward the wide-open French doors on the far side of the large room. “You done?” he called back to the deputy videoing the exterior part of the crime scene.
“You need to come out here, Sheriff.”
He hoped another vic hadn’t been discovered.
Four was more than enough. Deputy Will Conover and his forensic team, meaning Conover and one other deputy, were headed this way, but Bent had wanted a video done before any intrusion.
A thorough search inside and out wouldn’t be started until the video was completed.
Crouched next to the female victim on the steps, Olson glanced up as Bent approached.
“I’m done, yeah. But while I had the camera focused on her”—he stared down at the woman again—“I thought I saw her chest rise ever so slightly.” He nodded to Alicia Wilton.
“It’s hard to catch, but I’m pretty sure she’s still breathing.
Pulse is even harder to find, but I think I felt it. ”
Bent got down on one knee next to Alicia Wilton. “You sure?”
Olson nodded. “Think so.” He shook his head then. “I swear she wasn’t breathing, and there was no pulse the first time I checked.”
Bent checked her carotid pulse. Damned faint . . . almost imperceptible. But it was there. Anticipation seared through him. “Get a paramedic here ASAP.”
“Calling now,” Olson said.
Bent would like to move her off the steps.
She couldn’t be comfortable, but he didn’t dare.
There might be injuries he couldn’t see.
There was no blood or visible damage anywhere but to her forehead.
Still, that didn’t mean something inside wasn’t broken or damaged in some way, and since she was in no imminent danger right where she lay, he opted not to take the risk.
But he could get something to cover her body.
“Hastings,” Bent called out. He watched Alicia Wilton’s body, saw a slight tremor. She was definitely alive, but not by much.
Deputy Shana Hastings, who, like several others, stood by to begin the search, appeared at his side. “Yes, sir?”
“Check for a linen closet, and find a clean sheet or blanket to cover Mrs. Wilton.”
“Will do, Sheriff.”
Bent’s attention rested on the woman in front of him once more. If she survived, he had a witness. That would damned sure make his life a hell of a lot easier. He glanced toward those open French doors just as Deputies Conover and Shepherd came through the front door.
Where the hell was that medical examiner? She was a doctor; she could help Alicia Wilton until the paramedics arrived.
Hastings returned with a sheet, and they draped it over the woman’s body. “Find out what’s keeping the ME and how far out EMS is.”
Hastings made the calls.
One thing was certain: Bent wanted Vee on this one.
Vera Boyett was the best when it came to reading a scene.
And if his one barely alive victim survived, Vee would know how to question her to get the full story.
Bent counted on Vee as the department’s own personal profiler.
The woman was that good. A smile tugged at his lips.
Her coming back last year was the best thing that had happened to him since he was just a kid.
He surveyed the carnage around him. Other than the rare situation like this one, his life was pretty damned perfect now.
Dr. Jenny Collins burst through the front door. “Sheriff!”
“Out here,” he called back. From the deck he had a clear view through those French doors all the way to the front. He watched the ME’s progress as she noted each body she encountered. A pause at the hot tub and then she made her way to where he waited.
Collins frowned. “You have a live one?”
“We didn’t think so at first,” he admitted. “Her pulse is faint, but it’s there.”
“EMS is five minutes out,” Hastings said as she tucked her cell away.
Bent sent her a nod and turned his attention back to the ME.
“Let me have a look.” Collins got down on one knee on the other side of the victim.
“This is the property owner’s wife, Alicia Wilton,” Bent explained. “Husband’s the one in the hot tub.”
Collins leaned down and checked the right eye for a reaction to light. “Well”—she sat back—“my specialty is the dead, but I’ll do what I can until someone else gets here to take over.”
“Thanks.” Bent stood and headed back into the house. He greatly appreciated anything Collins could do for the sole survivor of this nightmare. His attention shifted back to finding and collecting evidence. That was the one thing he could do for all the victims.
“Sheriff!”
He turned back to the ME with a questioning look.
“I think you might be looking for this.”
He moved back to where Collins knelt next to Alicia Wilton. Collins pointed to a large, bloody, stainless steel knife lying on the step next to Wilton.
“It was under her.”
Bent shouted for Conover, then turned back to the ME. “Looks like you found our murder weapon.”