Beforeapproaching the corpse, I stood at the edge of the clearing and bowed my headin a silent prayer for the gentle transition of her soul into the land of thedead. And then, I slowly walked toward her, seeing as I got closer that I’dbeen correct in my assumption of her age. She was indeed young, only in her twentiesif I had to guess, and she would have been beautiful in life, without theelements and wildlife eating away at her flesh and bones.
“Lookslike she fell,” Finley said, standing beside the body and peering at her skull.“Took a nasty blow to the head.”
“Itcertainly appears that way,” I agreed, as the forensics team rushed past me.
Mypartner went off in search of any belongings, while I lingered with the body ofthe young woman. I assessed her clothes, the dress, scarf, and heeled shoe shewore on her one remaining foot, wondering why a woman dressed like this wouldhave found herself deep in a forest.
Unless, Ithought,she was here with a lover. A boyfriend, perhaps. Maybe they were upthere, on the cliff, having an afternoon of romance. And then …I shook myhead.No. A lover would have reported the fall. A lover cares.
Standingup and looking overhead toward the edge of the cliff, I tried to imagine it.The fall, her traumatic landing and untimely end.
Howcould she have fallen from up there, and landed all the way over here?Iwondered, working out the physics of it in my mind and determining that, no, itdidn’t add up. The rock she laid upon was too far south from the foot of thecliff. She would have needed to take a running leap to fall the way she had.
“Canye hand me one of those?” I asked one of the scurrying Constables who held abox of disposable gloves.
“Ofcourse, Inspector,” she replied, giving me one before hurrying on her way.
Iput it on and approached the body. The forensics team worked diligently toassess the injuries and bruises she had clearly suffered to her head and legs,while my eyes trained on the scarf she wore around her neck. It was a bitaskew, revealing a deep purple splotch.
“Whatdo we have here?” I muttered, reaching out to gently pull the garment away,uncovering more of her throat without disturbing too much of the crime scene.And there, clear as day, were the marks of someone who’d been strangled.
“Didye get this?” I spoke to one nearby woman with a camera.
Liftingher head from taking a picture of the stump where the dead woman’s foot oncewas, she nodded absentmindedly. “I’ll check it out in a moment,” she said,dismissing me.
“Makesure that ye do,” I said sternly, just as Finley approached.
“Hername was Grace. An American on holiday,” he announced somberly, holding up aplastic bag containing a little black purse. “They just found identification.”
“Where’dthey find that?”
Hepointed up, addressing the top of the cliff. “They found this, along with abottle of water and bits of food. Poor girl must’ve plummeted to her deathwhile on a hike.”
Inarrowed my eyes at the purse in the bag. “Hikin’with a wee thing like that?”
Finleyshrugged exhaustedly. “I can’t explain why the tourists do what they do,” hesaid, then chuckled lightly. “But ye know how it is. Shite happens.”
Ishook my head, turning to look back at the woman and the scarf around her neck.“No,” I stated firmly. “I don’t believe this was an accident. There arestrangulation marks on her neck, and those certainly don’t look like a fuckin’accident.”
“What?”Finley asked, eyes wide with surprise. “How did I miss that?”
“Well,I reckon ye should take a closer look, then, because there’ssomethin’goin’ on here and itisn’t a—”
Mymobile cut me off, as it began to ring from my pocket. I held up a finger toFinley and pulled it out, to see my father’s face on the screen. I sighed, notwanting to answer and handle his problems, not while I had work to deal with. Butwhen Finley saw it was him, he urged me to answer, reminding me that the deadwoman wasn’t going anywhere, and so, I turned my back on the scene and answeredthe call.
“Yeah,Dad?”
“Alec,”he muttered in hisweak, quivering voice. “Alec, whereareya,laddie?”
“Atwork, Dad,” I sighed, squeezing the back of myneckand staring off into the dense forest.
“Ah,my boy. Always with that imagination ofyers. I gotyerdinner all set for ye, son. Whydinnaeye come on home to eat withyerol’dad, hm? Before it gets cold.”
Asorrowful sigh whispered through my lips as I tipped my head back to witness aflash of lightning streak across the tempestuous sky. His mind was fragile, aweak thing that could no longer remember life past my tenth birthday, and I struggledto be grateful that he still remembered me at all.
“Dad,”I said with a sigh, laying a hand over my eyes. “Icannaecome right now. I have a case to handle in the forest. The body of a womanwas—”
“Och,” he grunted, and I could just see him waving his handsdismissively. “Dinnaeye betalkin’to me about bodies. Ye ken Idinnaelike it when yeplay those games, Alec, andyermotherdoesnaecare for it either. Just come home before the sunsets. Ye know how she worries aboutya.”
