Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Laurel noted the state crime scene techs setting up a tent over the body, close to the broken ice. “Heraclitus also said that one cannot step twice in the same river.”
“Huh,” Walter said. “Haven’t read that one. Those thoughts seem to contradict each other.”
“They’re compatible statements.” Laurel angled her head for a better view. The victim had longish blond hair and was still fully dressed in a short black wool coat, dark jeans, and scuffed brown boots. She appeared to be a female in decent shape. “Everything flows and nothing stays.”
Walter reached into his back pocket to draw out a pair of thick gloves. “Who said that?”
“Plato, but I believe he paraphrased Heraclitus.”
Walter settled shiny and unscuffed snow boots on the icy ground. “So it’s about the river? The movement of the water beneath the ice versus solid ground?”
Her current proximity to the victim prevented a detailed analysis of the possible crime scene. “Our perception is subjective, as is any conclusion when becoming philosophical.”
He gestured for her to precede him. “Who said that?”
“Me.” Having been given a wave from the crime scene tech dressed in thick white coveralls, Laurel gingerly picked her way across the rough terrain, her rugged boots finding purchase on the ice. “Philosophy involves asking questions with few true answers.” Which had always irritated her to no end.
Every question should have an answer. In fact, each one most certainly did, even if she couldn’t find it. She slipped, and Walter instantly grasped her arm, straightening her. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You’d think we’d be finished with the snow and ice, considering it’s April first,” he grumbled, walking closer to her now.
She shrugged. “We’re thousands of feet above ocean level, Walter.” At least the snow might melt soon down in the town of Genesis Valley. “We’re fortunate snowmobilers found the body.”
“Huh. The body is just a short distance away from the parking area. Somebody would’ve found her.”
They reached the now-tented area just as the wind increased in force, blowing Laurel’s hair away from her face. Her breath caught from the cold as she crouched to better study the body. “There are no obvious signs of murder, and she still has her hands.” Jason Abbott had liked to cut off the hands of his victims, but he’d had an ax easily available each time.
Unlike now.
Fish and Wildlife Captain Monty Buckley stepped out of a rig in the parking area and strode toward them, his countenance pale from recent cancer radiation treatments. “I radioed Huck to fill him in as he drove. He’s on his way now.” Monty walked gingerly, his movements jerky.
Laurel stood. “Did Huck find the missing person?”
Monty shivered in the cold, even though he wore a heavy jacket and gloves. “Yeah. They found the old guy not too far from the retirement home, with hypothermia and possible frostbite. He’s alive at least.”
So Huck would be in a good mood. The man blamed himself when he couldn’t save a victim, and even though that was irrational, Laurel could empathize.
Monty gestured to the body. “Her head and torso are on federal land, and her waist and legs are on state land. This is a weird one, for sure. So I figured we’d share jurisdiction.” He motioned toward a younger Fish and Wildlife officer taking photographs near the tree line. “Tso, get over here.”
The man let his camera hang over his neck and walked toward them, his black eyes intense. Frozen chips of ice dotted his longish black hair, showing he’d been photographing the area within the trees. He wore an F&W jacket over jeans and thick boots. “I shot the full scene and took extra photographs of the cracked ice over the river. There’s blood on the edges, and the techs captured samples before the ice melted.” He smiled at Laurel. “You must be Laurel Snow. I’ve heard about you.”
“I am.” She held out a gloved hand to shake. Huck had mentioned the new officer, but she hadn’t met him.
Monty provided the introductions. “Laurel Snow, please meet Qaletaga Tso, fresh from Arizona. You know? Where there’s actually some sun and not constant winter?”
That might possibly be sarcasm, but Laurel couldn’t read the tone. Perhaps Monty was dreaming of a trip to a warm beach resort. She and Huck had planned to vacation in Cabo, but work kept interrupting. The new officer appeared to be Native American, and if she remembered correctly, Qaletaga was a Hopi name. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Officer Tso released her and held out a hand to Walter. “You as well.”
“Walter Smudgeon,” Walter said. “I bet you miss the sun. Like Monty, I’m seriously tired of the gray skies but am going to have to put my vacation on hold.”
Tso grinned, showing perfectly symmetrical features. “Vacation?”
“Yeah.” Walter sighed. “My girlfriend won a sunny two-week vacation from her church’s raffle a week ago, and we had planned to leave this afternoon.”