Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Ace exhaled slowly. The truth would come out soon enough, and he might as well get ahead of this now. This completely sucked. “I drove Ivy home last night.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Deja vu hit May as she parked her truck and stepped out, already wearing her red boots. This could not be happening.
Lance sat in the passenger seat. His face was pale, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Do you want me to come?”
“No, you can’t. Just stay here, all right?”
He hadn’t wanted to remain at the clinic and had insisted upon accompanying her. The drive out had been quiet except for the gravel popping beneath the tires and the rush of her own pulse in her ears. She forced her professional mask into place. “I’ll be right back.”
She reached into the backseat and pulled on her jacket, then grabbed a pair of latex gloves. She tugged them over her hands before striding toward the already blocked-off path. Yellow tape fluttered between trees, snapping softly in the breeze.
This area was farther down Two Trout Creek to the east from where Laura Jordan’s body had been found. The memory pressed in hard and unwelcome. The same stretch of trees. The same uneven ground. The same low murmur of water moving over rock filled the silence.
“Hi, Dr. Smirnov.” Trooper Jeb Pontevo moved out from the trees, his expression tight beneath the brim of his hat.
“Hi, Trooper,” she said, zipping up her coat and shivering anyway.
A light summer breeze moved through the area, carrying the scent of damp earth and spruce. In the distance, an eagle cried, wild and lonely against the wide sky. The sun hung high but gave little warmth down near the creek bed.
“Are you okay to do this?” he asked.
“I am.”
He studied her for a beat. “I know she worked for you, but you’re the only medical personnel we have anywhere near. We’re flying in a forensic team from Fairbanks again.”
“I understand.” She sounded steadier than she felt. Inside, something fragile rattled deep. She’d deal with her emotions later. Right now, she had a job to do. “Tell me where to walk.”
“Just follow my footsteps.” The trooper tugged his hat lower over his gray hair and started down the embankment. He took a careful crisscross route, boots planting deliberately in patches of firmer ground. May followed, placing her feet exactly where his had been. She avoided loose pebbles and soft mud that might slide. The slope wasn’t steep, but it was deceptive. One wrong shift and the whole bank could give way.
The wind picked up again, pushing her hair back from her face. She tasted cold water in the air. The creek moved steadily below, deceptively peaceful. Dragonflies skimmed the surface, catching light. If she hadn’t known better, it would’ve been beautiful.
They reached a small rocky area, very similar to where Laura Jordan had been found, though this bend in the creek seemed wider. The trees grew closer together here, branches knitting overhead in a loose canopy. Shadows pooled between stones.
Yellow markers dotted the ground. A camera sat on a tripod a few yards back. Trooper Paige stood farther up the bank, speaking quietly into a radio.
May wanted to run away.
The shape near the waterline lay half turned toward the creek, hair tangled against the rocks. One arm rested at an unnatural angle, her fingers pale against wet stone. The current lapped gently at the edge of her sleeve, as if the water hadn’t quite decided whether to claim her.
For a second, everything narrowed. The sound of the wind faded. The eagle’s cry disappeared. There was only the rush of blood in May’s ears and the steady, relentless movement of the creek beside them.
This could not be happening.
But it was.
May caught sight of Ivy’s boot and nearly stopped walking. If she just stopped, she wouldn’t have to see Ivy’s dead body. A wave of grief shot through her. She forced herself to keep following the trooper.
He angled closer to the river, and she followed suit, careful with every step. She didn’t want to disturb any possible evidence, although she didn’t see much at first glance. No obvious drag marks. No scattered belongings. Just the quiet hum of nature pretending nothing had happened.
Then she caught her first full sight of Ivy.
And she did stop.
The trooper turned. “You okay?”
“No,” she answered honestly, though she continued forward anyway.
Ivy lay face up, much like Laura had, her arms out, her eyes open toward the sky. They were a different color in death, a much deeper blue. Purple bruises mottled her neck, and it appeared as if her trachea may have been crushed.
May’s breath hitched. She forced it to slow again in a raw effort to remain professional. Trying not to cry, she crouched and looked closer, focusing on the details. “I can identify the deceased as Ivy Carter.” Just saying the name made May’s eyes prick. “I see petechiae in her eyes,” she said quietly, “and obvious bruising on her neck.”