They watched the ME finish up again, the two EMT assistants gagging as they loaded the body into the bag and onto a stretcher.
One couldn’t hold it in and sent his breakfast into the bushes.
“Told you not to eat,” his buddy chided.
They moved with practiced ease, like two people with the familiarity of working closely together for some time get to be.
Brill admired the simple artistry of their work.
Most emergency techs out here probably peeled people off the highway, he thought. Maybe some four wheeler accidents, and an occasional kick by a horse thrown in.
Car wrecks were nasty business.
So why was one sick?
It was possible they were used to crush injuries, and this one was different.
Burned bodies just seemed wrong.
Unnatural.
People cooked meat, beef, pigs, chicken here in the US. Other types elsewhere.
Charred flesh smells like cooked meat no matter the species.
That had to be it.
A break in expectation.
Pulling a dead body from a mangled auto, it smelled of piss, feces and fear.
Sometimes all of that mixed in with the cloying pine scent of a hanging air freshener.
This one smelled like dinner.
It looked wrong too.
Broken bodies still looked human.
Burned bodies looked unreal.
Not fake, he thought.
Just wrong.
Against the natural order of things.
The two EMT’s trundled past him, balancing the stretcher between them as they headed down the trail.
The ME came over, no cake this time. Guess the smell got to him too.
“Between two and three, “he said as if picking up a prior conversation.
A sign he and Jo had worked together before too. He was anticipating her questions.
“I’ll get in to see if he has any other wounds, but the way his finger were wrapped in the rope, I’d say he was alive when the fire started.”
“Cruel way to die,” said Brill.
The ME shrug, sending ripples across his meaty torso.
“Takes all kinds. These hippie bastards out here, practically animals,” he sounded bored.
Practiced.
Townies versus visitors. The locals liked the dollars tourists brought, but these campers didn’t bring dollars. Just took up space in a campground designed for everyone.
“The counterculture still alive,” said Brill.
“We don’t get much trouble out here,” Jo said. “The occasional fight when our citizens come to enjoy the trails.”
Brill nodded.
She caught his look and turned to the ME.
“I’ll be by later to get a report.”
The large man nodded and lumbered down the trail after the EMT’s.
“What was that look?” Jo asked when he was out of earshot.
“You were convinced last night it was one of the campers.”
“It makes sense,” she said. “Opportunity.”
Brill studied the ground around them. He hadn’t done tracking in years, not since the jungle, and the path was well worn by thousands of impressions over the year as the same people made the same trek again and again.
Wouldn’t hurt to look though.
“Don’t you need motive?” he asked.
“We’re not some big city show,” she snapped. “I’m the acting detective on this case.”
Brill held up his hands and cast about as he walked up the trail.
“Just talking it out,” he said.
Jo fell in behind him, silent for a few moments.
He could hear her breathing, working to calm herself.
“Sorry,” she muttered toward a spot between his shoulder blades.
“Apology accepted.”
“I get mad because it all falls on me. The Sheriff here is- otherwise occupied.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’s politicking,” she snapped. “He’s focused on getting reelected.”
“Then he has to be concerned about murders in his county. That’s how it’s done out here? Sheriff by County?”
“Pretty much. We get three counties because of population. The national forest takes up a lot of space, so people don’t live there.”
“That you know of.”
“Crap on a stick,” she cursed.
He looked to see if she stepped in something.
“The Sheriff is obsessed with me solving this,” she said. “He doesn’t
want any blowback to touch him, so it’s all on me. And the pressure is on. Now you just added to it.”
He thought about it for a moment.
“You were locked in on the campers,” he said. “But now you have to consider the townspeople. And you know of someone living in the forest.”
Jo nodded.
“Several someone’s.”
Brill stopped and bent down.
“What’s that look like to you?”
Jo kneeled next to him and studied the two lines etched in the dirt. They led off trail between a set of footprints.
“Drag marks,” she sighed.
Brill pushed off his knees and led the way.
They didn’t go far.