Chapter 2 #2
The rocks formed a small protected cove on this side, hidden from the view of the other small cove. The tide was low, revealing a strip of wet sand between the rocks and the water line.
And there, near where the water would reach at high tide, was more blood. A lot more blood. The sand was dark with it.
“This is where it happened,” Marcus said quietly. “This must be where he was attacked.”
Mitch pulled out his phone and checked the tide tables. His eyes widened.
“When is high tide?” Marcus asked.
“In about...” Mitch glanced at his watch, then back at his phone to confirm. “Forty minutes. Maybe less.”
They looked at each other, the implications clear. In forty minutes, the tide would come in and wash away all the evidence in this cove. The blood, the drag marks, anything the attacker might have left behind.
“We need to get this evidence collected and bagged,” Marcus said urgently. “Are the police on their way?”
“Yes,” Mitch confirmed. “But they might not get here in time to preserve this before the tide comes in.”
“Then we need to take samples ourselves,” Marcus said. He was already reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a pair of latex gloves and several small evidence bags. “I know someone here in Nantucket who can help us. She has her own lab.”
Mitch nodded. He knew exactly who Marcus was talking about. The woman had been on Ryan’s team in the military, and she’d moved to Nantucket after her discharge to set up a private forensics consulting business. She was brilliant, discreet, and completely trustworthy.
“Okay, but we need to work quickly,” Mitch said. “Before the cops get here and before the tide comes in.”
“Already on it,” Marcus said, snapping on the gloves. He handed a pair to Mitch along with his phone. “Can you take photos while I collect samples?”
“You carry evidence collection supplies around with you?” Mitch shook his head, though he wasn’t really surprised.
Marcus looked at him calmly, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t you?”
Mitch sighed. He used to. Before he retired. Before he’d convinced himself that his days of field operations were behind him.
He started taking photographs with Marcus’s phone, documenting everything.
The blood in the sand. The drag marks. The position of the rocks.
The water line. The blood on the rocks where Clara had first seen Elias.
He carefully made his way back to where Marcus was now examining the cove, looking for footprints or any evidence that anyone else was here.
“When you were hit on the head in the sand…” Marcus looked up at him. “Did Ryan find any other footprints near where you fell?”
“Not that he mentioned,” Mitch said, frowning, glancing around at the ground.
“Because there aren’t any here either, except Dane’s drag marks and now our footprints,” Marcus said, standing and brushing sand from his hands. “Whoever did this knew how to cover their tracks. This was a professional hit.”
Mitch nodded grimly. “Same as whoever came after me.”
“Exactly,” Marcus agreed. “And there’s no sign of what was used to hit Dane over the head. No rock with blood and hair on it, no discarded weapon. Just like your attack.”
“The doctor who treated me said I was hit with something cylindrical,” Mitch told him. “Like a pipe. Something the attacker could easily carry away.”
“Same MO,” Marcus said. “Same level of skill. At a guess, I’d say this was the same person.”
“Which means it probably wasn’t Dane that hit me over the head,” Mitch reasoned.
“Or someone who operates exactly like him,” Marcus pointed.
“You think someone from Barstow was sent here to kill him?” Mitch’s eyes widened in realization.
“We can’t rule anything out at this point,” Marcus said.
They fell into silence as they glanced back to where Elias had been dragged onto the rocks.
“We weren’t supposed to find him,” Mitch said quietly as he worked. “Why cover the footprints and leave the drag tracks?”
“I came to that same conclusion,” Marcus agreed.
“Whoever did this planned for the tide to wash everything away. They probably dragged him to that spot on the rocks, thinking he’d die there and be swept away by the tide.
Anyone who found him on the beach would assume he slipped and fell on the rocks. ”
“But Dane woke up, and then Clara spotted him,” Mitch said.
“Which the attacker couldn’t have predicted,” Marcus finished. “This part of Pelican Bay couldn’t be that frequently used, as it’s a dangerous part of the bay.”
“Yes, it’s unpredictable here,” Mitch explained. “When the tide comes in, it comes in fast.” Then pointed to the other small cove. “The other side is just the same, but at least there, it’s easier to get to the rocks that act as steps up to the top.”
Marcus nodded and turned. “Which means the attacker would have had to have gone up there to get away.” He turned and looked toward where the rocks curved around a corner. “That goes to the other side of the nature reserve?”
“Yes,” Mitch nodded. “Although there is another path up the back of this cove, it’s rather treacherous and only used in extreme emergencies. It also leads into the nature reserve.”
“I’ll check it out,” Marcus told him.
A shout from the direction of the other cove made them both look up.
“He’s back!” Ryan’s voice carried across the rocks.
“Go,” Marcus said to Mitch, “I’ll take care of my footprints here and go check out the paths. You need to be there if Dane is awake.”
Mitch nodded and carefully made his way back across the rocks. By the time he reached the sand where Elias Dane lay, Ryan had sat back on his heels. Tessa was still kneeling beside the unconscious man, her fingers on his neck, checking his pulse.
“He’s breathing,” Ryan said, his chest heaving from the exertion of the CPR. In the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder.
“I’ll go bring them here,” Lori said, already moving toward the path. She looked at Tessa. “Can you stay here with Clara?”
Mitch noticed that Tessa’s smile was stiff, but she nodded and stood up, moving to stand beside Clara.
The two women had very different reactions to the crisis.
Lori had jumped into action immediately, calling for help and directing people.
Clara seemed frozen, still in shock from what she’d witnessed.
“Did he say anything?” Mitch asked Ryan, crouching down beside his son.
“Not really,” Ryan said, “His eyes opened for just a second and muttered something unintelligible. It sounded like ‘wit... wit...’ I think he was trying to say ‘witness,’ but he couldn’t get the whole word out.
Then he fell unconscious.” Ryan glanced down at Elias, his expression grim.
“He has a very weak pulse, Dad. I don’t know if he’s going to make it. ”
The EMTs arrived then, their equipment bags in hand, breaking up the conversation. They took over immediately, working with practiced efficiency to stabilize Elias Dane and prepare him for transport.
Two police officers arrived right behind the EMTs. Mitch recognized one of them, Officer Tim Morris, the young man who was acting chief while Carrie was away.
“Mitch,” Officer Morris said, his expression serious. “What happened here?”
Mitch gave him a concise rundown of the situation, walking him through Clara’s account and showing him the blood on the rocks where Elias had first been spotted.
He carefully left out any mention of Marcus. As far as the official record would show, it had just been Mitch, Ryan, Tessa, Lori, and Clara at the scene with Misty’s nose leading Mitch to where he guessed the attack had happened.
Marcus had already slipped away, silent and unseen, with the evidence samples safely tucked in his pockets. Mitch answered the officer’s questions, gave his statement, and watched as the EMTs loaded Elias Dane onto a stretcher and carried him away.
But his mind was racing with questions.
Who had attacked Elias Dane? And why?
Was it connected to the brick through Ryan’s window? To the threats against Lori and Tessa?
And most importantly, what had Elias been trying to say?
Witness.
Witness to what?