“Where was the body found?” Faith asked, redirecting the conversation to the task at hand.”
“Right here.”
Brandon gestured to a chalk outline that looked like two bodies joined together at the hip. The outline encompassed a portion of the floor and the wall by the door.
“There were two bodies?” she asked.
“Just the one here. Patrick Jeter, sixty-three. He is—or was, the Pratt County School District Superintendent. Schoolteacher for thirty-five years before joining the administration five years ago. Wonderful teacher. I had him in seventh-grade math. Sad to see him gone.”
“The body’s with the coroner?”
He nodded. “As of this morning.”
“Who called it in?” Michael asked.
“A few kids. They were getting into trouble looking for a haunted storm shelter. Guess they found it.”
Faith nodded. “Have you checked what’s behind the second door?”
Brandon shook his head. “The bolts are rusted shut. If the killer opened it, he did a great job of inducing forty-plus years’ worth of wear when he shut it again.”
"So, was the victim killed here, or was he dumped here?"
Brandon shrugged. “You’ll have to talk to Major Crimes to get that answer. They’re set up at the police station in Plato. That’s about a half-hour west of here. The closest town.”
“They don’t tell you anything?” Michael asked.
Brandon shook his head. “Iowa State Patrol primarily focuses on traffic violations. I’m basically just a chauffeur in this case.”
So we don’t rate the real investigators,Faith thought irritably. She controlled her emotions for Brandon’s sake and asked. “Who responded to the call?”
“Plato PD. An Officer Weathers. He took the kids’ statements. That, at least, I have a copy of.”
He handed it to Faith. Michael leaned over her shoulder, and they both skimmed it. It was fairly straightforward. Two boys and two girls were out late at night trying to find a haunted storm shelter. They found it, and when one of the boys tried to open the door, the late Mr. Jeter’s body fell almost on top of him. The kids’ names were withheld in the copy Faith held, but that was all right. The report was detailed enough. Faith didn’t see an immediate need to interrogate the kids.
She folded the copy and put it in her shirt. “Can you tell me anything about the previous victim, Dr. Montgomery?”
Brandon sucked in breath. “Well, I know she was found out by the South Dakota state line. She was in an old grain silo. Surveyor found her while surveying the property for the state government. The farm had lain abandoned for thirty years, so the state was reclaiming the land.”
“So both properties were abandoned,” Faith asked.
Brandon nodded. “Looks like. Killer probably took ‘em here thinking no one would look for them.”
“Probably,” Faith agreed.
She looked down at the crime scene. Some cleaning had clearly been done, but Faith could see the coppery brown stains of dried blood pooled near the wall. The victim was killed here, then.
“Are there any lights?” she asked.
Brandon shook his head. “Not here, anyway.”
With the door closed, it would have been pitch black for the victim. That suggested that their killer was a coward. He didn’t want to be seen and put himself at risk.
Her eyes fell on the door, and she could see faint scratch marks near the handle and more along the edge where the victim had tried to escape. Her stomach turned, and she said, “Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”
“Right behind you,” Michael agreed.
Turk sniffed at the bloodstain on the floor and growled, shaking his head and pawing at his nose. “Come on, boy,” Faith called.
