Gone was the blissed-out man from moments ago. My stomach clenched as I sat up. “What?”
Lawson slowly turned to me as if it were the last thing he wanted to do. “They found another body.”
42
LAWSON
A sick feelingchurned deeply as I pulled into the trailhead’s parking lot. The scene had become far too familiar: the array of law enforcement vehicles, the coroner’s van. All because another life had been lost.
As I climbed out of my SUV, I caught sight of Maddie and Nash, Shadow at their sides. I lifted my chin in greeting, and Shadow quivered next to them. Maddie gave the dog a release command, and she ran over to me.
I bent to scratch behind her ears. “Going to see if she can catch a scent?” I asked.
“We thought it was worth a try,” Nash said. “We might be able to tell if he’s parking in the lots or has a place in the woods somewhere.”
I nodded. “Definitely worth a try.”
Holt had been training Wren’s dog, Shadow, for search and rescue, and now that Maddie was home, she’d taken the dog’s training up a notch. I glanced up at her. “You sure you’re up for this?”
It wasn’t that long ago that she’d been through her own harrowing ordeal.
Maddie nodded. “I want to help. And Nash’ll be with me.”
“Like glue,” Nash muttered.
I didn’t blame him.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Maddie gave Shadow another command, and she ran right back. Maddie leashed her, and Shadow stayed right at her side.
We made our way up the trail in the twilight. The poor hiker who’d called in the discovery would likely have nightmares for the rest of his life and might never hit a trail again.
Voices sounded from up ahead, and lights peeked out through the trees. The dump site was closer to the parking lot this time.
“Wanted her found fast,” Nash muttered.
“It’s a more popular trail, too,” I added as the group came into view. “Different from the kills five years ago.”
That could mean we had a copycat or that our killer was getting off on discovery, maybe thinking he was sending a message by getting his victims found quicker. My brain could make a case for either. What I really needed was Anson’s genius to figure it all out.
Gibson, the crime scene photographer, was shooting away, bending over the body to get some close-ups. Reed and Daniels were talking in hushed tones off to the side. Clint and Adams were speaking with Luisa and her assistant.
Daniels looked up at my approach. “Chief.”
I lifted my chin in greeting. “You take the hiker’s statement?”
He nodded. “Poor guy.”
“Poor me,” Reed muttered. “He almost puked on my shoes.”
I bit my tongue to keep from saying something I’d regret.
“When did he find the body?” I asked.
“About three this afternoon. Called it in. Reed and I got here a little before three-thirty. Rang you right after.”
I glanced at Luisa. “How long has she been dead?”
