Chapter 21 #2
They were still processing the scene of the buried body.
Two blue tarps had been spread over the worst of the mud, their edges pinned down by rocks and stakes to keep the slick material from sliding.
Another tarp had been propped up above the body, secured to tree branches and poles the techs had hammered into the ground.
Water pattered against the tarp’s surface, creating a soft, rhythmic sound that seemed both natural and wrong.
“Careful with that,” FBI Agent Bill O’Connor muttered, his voice clipped but not harsh.
He and another tech, Julie Evans, were kneeling beside the body.
They were meticulous, brushing away soil from the man’s clothing and photographing every angle before attempting to move him.
Agent Norrs stood over them, watching carefully.
“Balaclava still on,” Norrs noted. “Looks like he died wearing it.”
Laurel nodded, her eyes sweeping over the scene. The body lay twisted, half-crushed against the dirt, as if the man had been dragged and then dropped in haste. The dark material of his jacket was soaked through, streaked with blood and clinging mud.
She shifted her attention to the other agents circling the area, their flashlights cutting through the growing darkness. The portable floodlights they’d set up created harsh, angular shadows that danced across the trees.
“Is Huck still trying to find a camera?” Walter’s voice cut through the murmurs of the techs.
“Affirmative. Ena has given him directions, but I don’t think they were very helpful,” Laurel replied.
She motioned Walter toward her, waiting until he strode gracefully over the crushed red berries.
There had been a time she’d worried about him in the elements, but he worked out often now and appeared to be in good shape.
Even so, water sluiced off his hair and down his face. “Let’s go assist Huck.”
Walter nodded. “Sounds good. Did you call Dr. Ortega?”
“Yes. He’s waiting for both bodies. The Seattle FBI is processing the scene, but Norrs agreed to let Dr. Ortega perform the autopsies.”
Laurel moved out of the trees and past the black truck to see Huck across the road. “Did you find a camera?”
“Finally. I had Ena guide me step by step from the damn road.” Huck pointed upward, toward a thick-limbed pine a good twenty feet from where they’d found the body. “Up there. I’ll climb up and retrieve it.”
He didn’t wait for a response before he grabbed a branch and swung himself into the tree, graceful and strong.
Agent Norrs strode out of the forest, an FBI ball cap protecting his head from the rain. “Thought you should know. They’re still processing the buried body. The guy’s got a bullet wound in his upper arm—clean through. Not fatal, but it would’ve hurt like hell.”
Laurel straightened. “Probable cause of death?”
“Not the bullet.” Even wearing the cap, rain dotted Agent Norrs’s bulldog jawline. “He was stabbed. Deep. Looks like a hunting knife or something similar. Bled out fast.”
Walter wiped rain off his face. “So his buddy stabbed him and then buried him? So much for honor among thieves.”
Laurel’s fingers tapped against her notebook, her mind processing the details.
So she hadn’t killed him. Sure, she’d been doing her job, but she was glad she hadn’t ended someone’s life.
But why had he been killed? She turned her attention back to Huck.
He was already halfway up the tree, climbing with practiced efficiency.
It wasn’t long before he reached the camera. Laurel watched him cut it free, his body moving with the steady confidence of someone who’d spent years scaling worse obstacles.
“Got it,” Huck called down.
He descended just as quickly, his boots hitting the ground with a crunch of wet leaves. He made his way to his truck, where Aeneas soundly slept back in his warm crate.
Laurel climbed into the passenger seat, leaving the door open for Walter to lean in to see. Huck slipped into the driver’s side and pulled his laptop from its case. He plugged the camera into the port and waited for the files to load.
The rain drummed harder against the tarps, the sound an incessant, maddening patter. Walter hovered near Laurel, curiosity in his gaze.
The files finally loaded. Huck clicked on the most recent video, his eyes narrowing as the footage flickered to life. A series of still pictures came up from the last couple of days, since Ena had placed the cameras. “There,” Huck said, clicking on a still of the black truck.
Laurel watched as it smashed into the tree. Then the driver fell out, bounding up, looking over his shoulder. Blood flowed down his face, even in the grainy recording. He stumbled several times, trying to run, every movement frantic. Twice, he grabbed his head as if in horrendous pain.
Then he ran out of the range.
Laurel took a deep breath.
Agent Norrs strode up with a plastic bag in his hand. “We found the truck driver’s wallet in a bramble bush. He was named Mark Bitterson. Have you heard of him?”
Laurel mentally clicked through her earlier cases. “No.”
“No,” Walter said.
Huck shook his head. “Never heard of the guy.”
Keeping the wallet in the bag, Agent Norrs maneuvered the driver’s license out. “Guy was thirty and lived in Everett. I’m running a background check on him now.”
Huck reached for a flashlight in the back and pointed it at the bag.
Laurel went cold. “Walter?”
“Yeah.” Walter leaned closer. “I didn’t recognize him with all the blood. But that’s him.”
“Who?” Agent Norrs asked.
Laurel studied the man’s facial features. “We saw him on Tyler Griggs’s podcast. He met several times with Elk Hollow police detective Robertson.” She felt like she was running in circles when she needed a straight line. “Walter—”
“Oh, I’m calling them right now,” Walter said grimly, his phone already to his ear. “Any bets they lawyer up and fast?”
Yet another bet Laurel refused to take.