Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Deja vu hit May as she parked her truck and stepped out, already wearing her red boots. This could not be happening.
Lance sat in the passenger seat. His face was pale, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Do you want me to come?”
“No, you can’t. Just stay here, all right?”
He hadn’t wanted to remain at the clinic and had insisted upon accompanying her. The drive out had been quiet except for the gravel popping beneath the tires and the rush of her own pulse in her ears. She forced her professional mask into place. “I’ll be right back.”
She reached into the backseat and pulled on her jacket, then grabbed a pair of latex gloves. She tugged them over her hands before striding toward the already blocked-off path. Yellow tape fluttered between trees, snapping softly in the breeze.
This area was farther down Two Trout Creek to the east from where Laura Jordan’s body had been found. The memory pressed in hard and unwelcome. The same stretch of trees. The same uneven ground. The same low murmur of water moving over rock filled the silence.
“Hi, Dr. Smirnov.” Trooper Jeb Pontevo moved out from the trees, his expression tight beneath the brim of his hat.
“Hi, Trooper,” she said, zipping up her coat and shivering anyway.
A light summer breeze moved through the area, carrying the scent of damp earth and spruce. In the distance, an eagle cried, wild and lonely against the wide sky. The sun hung high but gave little warmth down near the creek bed.
“Are you okay to do this?” he asked.
“I am.”
He studied her for a beat. “I know she worked for you, but you’re the only medical personnel we have anywhere near. We’re flying in a forensic team from Fairbanks again.”
“I understand.” She sounded steadier than she felt. Inside, something fragile rattled deep. She’d deal with her emotions later. Right now, she had a job to do. “Tell me where to walk.”
“Just follow my footsteps.” The trooper tugged his hat lower over his gray hair and started down the embankment.
He took a careful crisscross route, boots planting deliberately in patches of firmer ground.
May followed, placing her feet exactly where his had been.
She avoided loose pebbles and soft mud that might slide.
The slope wasn’t steep, but it was deceptive.
One wrong shift and the whole bank could give way.
The wind picked up again, pushing her hair back from her face. She tasted cold water in the air. The creek moved steadily below, deceptively peaceful. Dragonflies skimmed the surface, catching light. If she hadn’t known better, it would’ve been beautiful.
They reached a small rocky area, very similar to where Laura Jordan had been found, though this bend in the creek seemed wider. The trees grew closer together here, branches knitting overhead in a loose canopy. Shadows pooled between stones.
Yellow markers dotted the ground. A camera sat on a tripod a few yards back. Trooper Paige stood farther up the bank, speaking quietly into a radio.
May wanted to run away.
The shape near the waterline lay half turned toward the creek, hair tangled against the rocks. One arm rested at an unnatural angle, her fingers pale against wet stone. The current lapped gently at the edge of her sleeve, as if the water hadn’t quite decided whether to claim her.
For a second, everything narrowed. The sound of the wind faded. The eagle’s cry disappeared. There was only the rush of blood in May’s ears and the steady, relentless movement of the creek beside them.
This could not be happening.
But it was.
May caught sight of Ivy’s boot and nearly stopped walking. If she just stopped, she wouldn’t have to see Ivy’s dead body. A wave of grief shot through her. She forced herself to keep following the trooper.
He angled closer to the river, and she followed suit, careful with every step. She didn’t want to disturb any possible evidence, although she didn’t see much at first glance. No obvious drag marks. No scattered belongings. Just the quiet hum of nature pretending nothing had happened.
Then she caught her first full sight of Ivy.
And she did stop.
The trooper turned. “You okay?”
“No,” she answered honestly, though she continued forward anyway.
Ivy lay face up, much like Laura had, her arms out, her eyes open toward the sky. They were a different color in death, a much deeper blue. Purple bruises mottled her neck, and it appeared as if her trachea may have been crushed.
May’s breath hitched. She forced it to slow again in a raw effort to remain professional.
Trying not to cry, she crouched and looked closer, focusing on the details.
“I can identify the deceased as Ivy Carter.” Just saying the name made May’s eyes prick.
“I see petechiae in her eyes,” she said quietly, “and obvious bruising on her neck.”
She gingerly reached for Ivy’s wrist, feeling for a pulse even though she knew she’d find nothing. She didn’t. The skin was already waxy. A fine film covered Ivy’s eyes, dulling the brightness that had always been there.
May swallowed hard and gently lifted one of Ivy’s arms. It resisted.
“Full rigor mortis has set in,” she said, setting the arm back exactly as she’d found it.
“I can confirm the death, but you’ll need the medical examiner to determine cause.
Although it’s not hard to tell.” Her throat thickened on the last words.
Ivy was still fully clothed in the same jeans and sweater she’d been wearing the night before.
The sweater was damp at the hem where the water had lapped against it.
One boot remained on her left foot. The other was gone, leaving her right foot in a pink sock that looked oddly fragile against the gray rock.
Delicate. That was the word that flashed through May’s mind. Too delicate for this. She forced herself to look away from Ivy’s face and scout the area instead. The trees pressed close. The creek moved steady and indifferent. No obvious signs of a struggle showed nearby.
“We haven’t found the boot.” Jeb also looked around. “We’ll have the forensic team scour the entire radius around her, but nothing so far.”
“Okay.” May stood slowly, her knees protesting. The world tilted for a second before righting itself. She pressed her gloved hands against her thighs, grounding herself. “I can’t believe this.”
“I know,” Jeb said quietly. “Doc, I hate to ask you, but we do need to take your statement now that you’ve gotten the official part out of the way.”
Official part. As if any of this could be reduced to a checklist. She swallowed. “Okay.”
He gestured up the hill. “Let’s go up. You don’t have to come into the office.”
Trooper Paige walked toward them from upstream. “Still haven’t found the boot,” she called out. “Hopefully the forensic team will do better.” She glanced up at the blue sky. “I don’t think we need to move the body until they arrive. The elements seem to be cooperating this time.”
This time.
May looked back at Ivy once more before turning away. The breeze shifted, lifting a strand of Ivy’s hair and then letting it fall again. The creek kept moving, and the eagle cried somewhere high above.
Professional, May reminded herself as she followed Jeb back up the embankment. But her hands were shaking. Nausea rose in her, and she took a step back, pressing a gloved hand against her stomach.
“You going to throw up, Doc?” Jeb asked.
“No, I’m okay.” May swallowed rapidly. Her mouth felt dry.
“Come on, let’s go up to the road. You don’t need to stare at your friend any longer,” Jeb said, not unkindly, taking her elbow.
The word friend nearly undid her. May walked as carefully up the embankment as she had down, placing each foot where Jeb had stepped before.
The climb felt steeper going up. Her thighs burned. The wind caught her jacket and tugged at it, pushing cool air against her overheated skin. By the time they reached the top, her breathing had steadied, though her hands still trembled inside the latex gloves.
They stepped onto the shoulder, and Jeb guided her toward her truck.
“Who’s in the truck?” he asked.
“That’s Lance. He works for me part-time.”
Jeb narrowed his gaze. “Did he know the victim?”
“Everybody knew Ivy,” May said. “But he saw her at the bar last night.”
“Really? I’ll need to take his statement as well.”
May’s entire body hurt in a dull ache. How could Ivy be dead? “Lance left for the night to go fishing with his uncle and Senator Mercer. He just got back around six this morning.”
“Okay.” Jeb wiped dirt off his cheek. “I need to see if he noticed anything at the bar.”
“I don’t see that as a problem.” She stopped in the middle of the road and drew in several deep breaths. Pain ricocheted through her heart. Who would kill Ivy like that?
It just didn’t make any sense.
Ivy had been steady. Kind. Good at her job.
May remembered Ivy laughing in the break room over burned coffee, and often rolling her eyes at paperwork or leaning over a patient with steady hands and a soft voice.
None of that lined up with the body by the creek.
Anger flushed through May, competing with grief.
Plus, she had thought, deep down, that Kyle had killed Laura, even though he hadn’t known her. But he and his crew had been fishing with Lance all night. They couldn’t have killed Ivy. They’d left when the young woman was still at the bar.
May glanced toward the truck where Lance sat watching them with wide eyes through the windshield. “This is terrible,” she said.
The words felt useless. The sky stretched overhead, painfully blue. Life continued, unaware or unwilling to pause. Behind her, the creek kept moving.
Ivy lay below.
“It really is.” Jeb patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Can you tell me the last time you saw the victim?”
“Yes. It was last night at Sam’s Tavern. I had dinner with Ace Osprey, and then Nate Busby showed up, and his wife was in labor.”
Jeb pulled a small notebook from his back pocket and started scratching notes out with an old Bic pen. “What time was this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe about nine?” She closed her eyes briefly, forcing herself to rewind the night. “We had a late dinner. Yeah, it was about nine.”
“Okay. So did you drive to the hospital?”
Had that just been last night? May rubbed her temple. “No. Ace and I walked.”
“Then what?”
“Annie was in labor for five hours and had a baby girl.”
Jeb smiled briefly, though his eyes stayed sober. “I heard. So you were at the hospital from nine o’clock until when?”
“Until a little after two when I went home.”
Jeb kept writing. “Did Osprey stay with you?”
“No. He left me at the hospital around nine-thirty because I locked the door.”
“Where did he go?”
May’s head was really starting to hurt. “I think Ace went back to the bar for a while.”
“How do you know that?”
“He came over to my house around two-ish,” May said.
Jeb angled toward her. “For how long?”
“He stayed until this morning,” she said evenly, meeting his gaze. “He dropped me off at the clinic around eight-thirty this morning.”
Jeb’s pen kept moving, the faint scratch of it loud in the space between them. “Did Ace tell you anything about Ivy?”
The breeze lifted a strand of May’s hair and blew it across her cheek. “No. Of course not. Why would he?”
The trooper looked up, giving her his full attention now. “Not a word?”
“No,” she said, frowning. “Why would he?”
Jeb hesitated. “From what we can tell, Dr. Smirnov, Ace Osprey gave Ivy a ride home from the bar last night. He was the last person to see her alive.”
The words didn’t register at first. They seemed to float between them.
May stared at him. “No,” she said automatically. The creek gurgled somewhere behind the trees. A radio crackled. Lance shifted inside the truck. “That’s not possible,” she said. Ace had come to her house around two. He hadn’t mentioned Ivy. Of course, they’d been rather busy and hadn’t talked much.
“Would Ace have given Ivy a ride home?” Jeb asked.
Slowly, May nodded. “Of course. He wasn’t drinking, and I assume he would’ve given anybody a ride home. That’s Ace. He’s a decent guy.”
“Uh huh. He usually drinks alcohol, right?” Jeb asked.
“Everyone does,” she said quickly. “But he wasn’t drinking last night.”
Jeb cracked his neck, still looking at her. “He didn’t mention giving Ivy a ride when he arrived at your house to, ah, stay the night?”
Defensiveness rose in her. “No, but that’s not something he would’ve thought to talk about. He’s a nice guy, Jeb.” If it wasn’t a big deal to Ace, he wouldn’t have brought it up.
“Right. Isn’t that what they always say about the serial killer next door?” Jeb asked.
Dread slithered through May. What the heck? “Ace Osprey is no killer.”
The bright blue sky above them felt almost cruel in its clarity. Everything looked so normal. The trees. The road. The truck. Lance watching through the windshield. Below them, Ivy lay still beside Two Trout Creek. And suddenly, May wasn’t just grieving her friend.
She was terrified for the man she was falling in love with. Hard.