Sam slid the phone in her pocket and mentally prepared for the ordeal to come. The 911 call took longer than normal because Baker County used a central call center, which then routed the call to the appropriate person. In this case, the sheriff’s dispatcher who couldn’t believe Sam actually found a dead body. When finally convinced otherwise, she brought up another series of anxious questions about the woman’s identity. It took time for Sam to calm her down enough to provide the information needed. Afterward, the dispatcher put her on hold for almost ten minutes, and came back only long enough to say she was not to move under direct orders from the sheriff.
Sam smirked at the command. Clearly, when the sheriff gave an order, he expected it to be followed to the letter.
Sensitive to her every mood, Jack whined and pushed his nose against her arm.
“Don’t worry, baby,” she said rubbing his ears, “everything will be okay. Just stay put like I told you.”
The sun sat well above the horizon now, and September’s Indian summer heat began to climb. Resigned to being stuck here a while, she put the top down, and debated taking pictures. While not a professional per se, she did have a knack for it. An old high school hobby, photography provided a much-needed creative outlet. The stress of being a doctor evaporated with each click of the lens. Over the years, her skills improved to the point she equipped her home with a state-of-the-art dark room, and every wall showcased her favorite pieces.
Being from a family of cops, she briefly considered forensic photography. But, she wanted people to see the joy and beauty in life, not the pain and suffering, so she kept to her still life and landscape photos.
She understood the routine involved in a crime scene, and the importance of not disturbing anything. But, if Bakersville was anything like the multitude of small towns in Texas, half the population owned a police scanner. Company could already be on the way.
“Easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission,” she mumbled as she retrieved her camera from the back seat. She took a series of shots of the road behind her, the area around her car, and what she could see of the clutter along the riverbank up to where the body lay. She used both a wide-angle and zoom lens to get as much detail as possible without moving from her spot by the car. At one point, she stood in the seat to get a different angle. The proximity of the holly bush prevented any shots of the body itself, but she managed to get the area leading to it. Satisfied at last, she placed the camera in the front seat, and leaned against the door.
Jack nuzzled her arm, trying in his own way to comfort.
“Well, my friend, looks like we’ve found ourselves in the middle of a crime scene.”
She absently scratched his ears and wondered about the dead woman. Who was she? How did she end up here? Did she have a family?
Sam sighed and considered her own complicated life. She loved being a doctor despite the long hours, and even managed to donate time to a local free clinic. Paul begrudged any time she allocated to something with no monetary return, but she refused to give it up. Her work meant everything to her. Maybe too much.
Paul, the jackass, told her so more than once, adding it was why he cheated, which of course was crap, but, still the allegation hurt.
A toss of her head banished the depressing image of them fighting over every stipulation in the divorce settlement. It crushed her to realize he wanted more from ending the marriage than he ever put into saving it.
When it was all said and done, she resigned her positions at the hospital and clinic. The house and most of the contents were sold. A few keepsakes, as well as her favorite photographs and lab equipment, ended up in storage.
Now, two weeks later, her future remained unclear. Guess that’s what happens when you’re thirty-three years old and your husband of five years decides he wants his freedom and as much of your money as he can legally steal.
In hindsight, she pegged herself as lonely and vulnerable, and perhaps even a little naïve. She devoted her life to fulfilling the dream of being a doctor, leaving little time for anything else. Consequently, she easily fell for the smooth-talking pharmaceutical salesman. It took time to admit her mistake, and still more to gather the courage to end the charade.
She took a deep breath and refocused her thoughts, thinking instead of the woman behind the bush. Sam worked enough assault cases through the ER to know she died a painful, prolonged death, and hadn’t given up without a fight.
“I need to be a fighter, too.”
Ever the optimist, Sam believed she still had a chance for some kind of happiness, and she’d fight tooth and nail for it.
The distant wail of a siren said things were about to turn serious. She snickered at the mental picture she developed of the approaching sheriff; overweight, balding, a wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth the size of a tennis ball, belt buckle hidden by a massive beer belly, and an attitude to try the patience of Job.
Her day got off to a wobbly start and was about to take a significant downward turn.
Coop raced down the highway, cell phone pressed to his ear. “Affirmative. Just off forty-eight, half mile east of county road four-sixty-three. There’s a dirt road on the east side leading to Simmons Creek. No specifics yet, other than one female body. Caller indicated she was nude with some obvious physical injuries. Can you roll now? Good. Thanks.”
Coop wanted the Texas Rangers Mobile Crime Unit on site ASAP. There hadn’t been a homicide in Baker County in over forty years, and his office wasn’t equipped to handle one. Another call had State Troopers on the way to help with crowd control. Bakersville was a small town with an active rumor mill. Something like this would spread like wildfire. He wouldn’t be surprised if a few locals even beat him there.
He slowed as he approached the one lane road but still took the corner too fast, dirt flying as the late model Ford Bronco skidded down the lane. Fifty yards farther, he spotted a vintage fifty-six Chevy convertible parked under a pine tree. The Fowler woman stood beside the car, one hand shading her eyes.
“Crap,” he muttered, “It had to be her.”
He slid to a stop and marched past her without a glance, ignoring the dust cloud he generated. “Where’s the body?”
“Over there,” she pointed off to the right with one hand, waving the other in front of her face to ward off the powdery onslaught, “behind the holly bush.”
He moved in the direction indicated, scanning the area carefully for anything out of the ordinary. A favorite make out spot for local teens, he steeled himself against what he might find on the other side of that holly bush. Bare feet extended beyond the edge, toe nails painted a bright red that somehow seemed indecent under the circumstances. He held his breath when he rounded the bush to get his first look at the body, hoping against hope he didn’t know her.
He froze mid-step.
It was her. The woman from the dream last night.
What the hell?
No mistake about it. Every detail was present. The gash on her forehead, the dried blood in the corner of her mouth, and crusted in her nose. He stared for several heartbeats, unable to process the fact she was the woman in the dream. He clamped his jaw tight, and focused on the job.
She lay on her back, unseeing eyes focused upward, legs straight, arms flat against her body like a soldier at attention. He stepped closer, careful not to disturb anything, looking for something to help identify her, and maybe the killer.
Nothing. No shoes, no clothes, nothing. He squatted down beside her, gritting his teeth as he surveyed the brutal scene. He was no stranger to death, but that didn’t make it any easier. And this one had been painful and prolonged. He saw it in the bruises, cuts and scrapes covering her body.
Could I have stopped this? Was the voice right?
He shook his head. No. He could not have prevented this horrific crime. He forced his mind back to the moment, and continued his perusal of the area.
The killer was good. He left zilch behind except a once beautiful woman used and discarded like yesterday’s news. With one last look around, he stood and strode back to where Sam waited.
“You’re the sheriff?”
