Finleynodded, as a raindrop slipped through the branches and onto his cheek. “Well, Ithink ye’re about to haveyermind blown.”
Momentslater, he held out an arm to stop me from walking any further. Then, he pointedto the ground and said, “Right there.”
Eyeinghim suspiciously before crouching to the ground, I peered closer. Through thecarpet of dead leaves, I spotted a flash of ghostly white but couldn’t quiteregister what it was that I was supposed to be seeing, when I saw a dot ofshiny, candy apple red. Reaching out a hand, I gently pushed the brush aside,and then, immediately pulled my hand away with a gasp.
There,on the forest ground, was a woman’s foot.
“F-F-Fuck,”I stuttered under my breath, before quickly collecting my composure and usualstate of calm.
“Anguswas just takin’ Rupert for a walk, when he sniffed it out,” Finley reminded me,as I leaned in to take a closer look.
“So,ye said,” I muttered, nodding, and taking a pen from my inside breast pocket.
“I-Ididnaetouchanythin’,”Angus stammered from behind me.
Irifled through the leaves with the tip of my pen, gently brushing the foliageaway, until I had exposed the entirety of the foot. Thankfully, the weather hadbeen frigid, thus preserving what was left of it and every one of the pristine,red-nailed toes. The smooth surface of the skin told me that the owner wasyoung, and that alone was enough to bring forth the familiar sadness I’d grownaccustomed to, as a homicide detective in Edinburgh.
Thefoot had been broken from its leg at the ankle. Initially, I had wondered ifperhaps we were dealing with a dismemberment, until I noticed the puncturedtooth marks around the gaping stump.
“Angus,”I called, using the pen to gently roll the foot over and find more of thepunctures on the sole.
“Yes,sir.”
Glancingover my shoulder, I asked, “Did Rupert leave these bite marks?”
“N-No,”Angus exclaimed, as if he might’ve been the one to leave the foot in the middleof the woods. “As s-soon as I saw what it was, I f-f-fuckin’ ran and called theb-bloody police.”
“I’mnotaccusin’ ye ofanythin’,sir,” I assured him.
“Whatare yethinkin’?” Finley asked, standing over me.
“Itwasnaecut from whoever it belongs to,” I told him,pointing at the ripped flesh surrounding the shattered bone. “I’msuspectin’ an animal came along and ripped it away from thebody, then hid it here for safekeepin’.”
Istood up on steady legs, morbidly comfortable to be back in my element for thefirst time in months. Turning to Finley and Abernathy, I asked, “Ye called itin?”
“Aye,of course,” Abernathy confirmed, nodding profusely. “The forensics team shouldbe here any minute now.”
“Good,”I muttered, turning in a slow circle, and surveying the impossibly vast stretchof trees and tall, dense grass.
Followingmy gaze, Finley muttered, “It’sgonnatake an eternityto find the poor lass in all this shite,” as I headed toward a small break inthe trees, where I looked up to the dark grey sky.
Itis said that crows are brought to humans as a bad omen, or a premonition thatdeath is near. To the superstitious, they’re as much bad luck as a black catcrossing their path. I’d always thought of them as simply birds, intelligentones, adding a touch of black to the sky. But on that stormy day in Fort Crow,standing in a small clearing inCoilleFeannag, I stood confidently on the side of thesuperstitious, as I pointed a steady finger to the East and directly at themurder of seven, circling crows.
“There,”I said gravely. “Ye’regonnafind her there.”
CHAPTER FOUR
ALEC
Withhis dog Rupert in tow, Angus was taken to the office to give his statement,while my band of men and I trudged through the woods, guided by the black,feathered wings of the crows overhead.
Everystep of the way, I hoped beyond reason that I’d be wrong, even without anyother logical explanation for the appearance of the foot. I hoped that murderhadn’t touched the sweet and dreary little town I didn’t love yet cared fordeeply. But, when we came to the clearing, surrounded by the figures of tall,gangly trees, like skeletons meeting for the sacrifice, there she was.
Atthe foot of a tall, jagged cliff, she lay, draped unnaturally over a flattenedstone. She resembled a marionette, I thought, with her arms splayed out infalse celebration. As if her spill to death had been a joyous occasion. But itwas her expression of frozen horror that gave it all away.
“Ah,what a fuckin’ shame,” Finley muttered from beside me, spoiling the silence.
“Aye,”I replied with a somber nod.
