No one rented cabins at that time of year, so it wasn't really his fault...
When Matt Logan, security guard for SecureTek, got a call that a driver passing through the area saw light coming from the cabin farthest from the main highway, he knew it meant his usually slack Sunday night was going to be different for a change.
His job was pretty sweet, all things considered. Most of his patrols included the businesses in the small towns between Bellingham and the border with Canada. Every night, his route took him along the road circling the lake, checking on the cabins to ensure they were secure, and none had been broken into. Occasionally, some vagrants or teenagers would jimmy a lock and spend the night, eating whatever food they could find before moving on, so he always had his gun in his hand when he saw any sign that the cabin was occupied.
He was supposed to drive by each cabin and check to see if things looked secure, but for the past few days, it had rained hard and the weather was cooler than normal for that time of year. He didn't check all the cabins as a result. Instead, for the past three nights, he sat in his truck on a side road and drank hot coffee from a thermos, listening to a metal station on the satellite radio. In fact, he hadn't driven by the cabin in question for six full days.
Now Matt knew he better check every cabin, just in case. The caller hadn't left his name, just said he was on his way through the area and had noticed the lights and thought someone should know. Matt thought that was suspicious, but it had been almost a week since his last check, and he felt a sinking feeling in his gut. If there was any damage to the cabin, he'd get the blame for not checking every night the way he was supposed to. Anyone could have come and broken in during those days.
He parked his truck on the side of the road and walked the path to the cabin, the wet ground squishing under his boots. Heavy spring rains had hit the region and the ground was soaked. He stared up at the night sky as he trudged along the path to the cabin, the tall pines reaching up around him. The sky was clear after the storms had passed, and dozens of stars sparkled above him. Soon, he'd be able to head back into town and get a fresh thermos of coffee, but for the next half hour, he had to finish that part of his route.
When he got closer to the cabin, two things looked unnatural.
First, the side door was open, which put him immediately on his guard. Light shone from the interior, out the door and onto the small yard. He could see into the house from where he stood at the edge of the property line, but he didn't see anyone inside nor were there any cars in the driveway. Whoever broke in was long gone.
He removed his cell and called dispatch.
"I think you better send police out here. I'm at the last cabin on Silver Lake Road."
Travis, the night dispatcher, responded, his voice sounding interested. Usually, nights were pretty quiet.
"Stay on the line and I'll let you know when I've talked to them."
"I will."
Matt wanted to be a cop one day, so instead of going back and waiting in his vehicle the way his book on procedure suggested, he decided to go in and see what was up. There were no vehicles in the driveway, so whoever had been there was likely gone. They'd left the lights on, however, and the door open.
When he got closer, he scanned the yard and noticed the outhouse door was open as well. He shone his flashlight inside as he stepped closer.
He stopped up short at the sight and stood a dozen feet from the outhouse. Were those feet? The beam of his flashlight passed over the two pale limbs, stained with what looked like blood.
Yes, those were two feet sticking out of the receptacle.
"Looks like a body in the outhouse," he said into his cell. "Head-first into the hole."
"Holy shit, so to speak," Travis replied on the end of the line.
"You got that right."
Whoever it was, he'd been murdered and stuffed inside. You didn't just fall into an outhouse head first unless you were really really unlucky. Matt wracked his brain trying to think of a way it could happen and not be foul play, but he couldn't. The man – and it looked like a man because of the hair on the legs – was also naked. You just didn't go out to an outhouse naked in this weather, open the lid to the receptacle and fall inside.
"Jesus," he said to Travis, trying to make light over the rapid beating of his heart. "Of all the ways to die, this is the shittiest."
"Christ," Travis replied. "You should go back to your vehicle and wait for the police."
'"Yeah, I will, but I wanted to make sure the guy wasn't alive in case I could help him, but he's dead."
"Holy Jeez," Travis said, whistling low. "You sure there's no one else around? It might not be safe."
"Nah, there's no car in the driveway. I'm going inside, but don't report me, okay? I just want to make sure no one's inside who needs help. I'll be fine. I won't touch anything."
Matt went to the cabin, and peeked inside the entry, his weapon drawn. There was a single light on in the place -- a table lamp beside an old brown sofa. On the floor beside the sofa, another body. Face down, also naked with what looked like at least a dozen stab wounds in his back, blood soaked into the beige rug beneath him.
"I got another one," he said into his cell. "White male. Looks like this one was stabbed to death. We got us a double homicide."
"Ho-lee shitshow," Travis said. "Police are on their way. You go back to your vehicle. Do not disturb the crime scene. Repeat. Do not disturb the crime scene."
"I won't."
Matt finished searching the small cabin, which was nothing more than one big living room and kitchen area with two bedrooms off the back.
What he thought was strange was that there were several tripods with cameras mounted, like whoever used the cabin was filming something. He stepped closer to the body and saw a set of plastic zip ties that looked like they were cut with a knife or something sharp. There was an assortment of sex toys on the coffee table, some lube. Thin rope. Knives.
Whoever these men were, it looked like they'd been filming pornography. Given they were both naked, he wondered if it wasn't gay porn, but he didn't know for sure. It set him to thinking about the case down in Paradise Hill he'd read about in the papers -- couple of local creeps had been filming child porn for years right under everyone's noses. He glanced around and saw a couple of children's toys on the dining table -- dolls. God, he hoped they weren't making child porn. He had two little girls himself and stories of the child porn ring and serial child killer from Kittitas County in central Washington made him sick.
He grimaced at the smell. The man on the floor had been dead for a while and even though he wasn't trained in forensic science, he knew enough from watching Law and Order to see lividity along the man's lower body. He had no idea how long the guy had been dead, but probably much more than twenty-four hours. He'd shit himself and the smell was awful.
It was at that point that he decided to leave and wait for the police in his vehicle. Maybe he wasn't cut out for being a cop if he had to deal with dead bodies on a regular basis, although it was pretty quiet in the county most of the time.
He left the cabin and walked down the lane to his truck, glad to be alive. He took out his pack of cigarettes and lit one, needing the familiar habit of a smoke to help him process the scene he'd just witnessed. His hands shook as he lit the cigarette, and he smoked it with relish, glad to be alive.
When a police car drove up about five minutes later, lights flashing, he was happy to finally have someone else at the scene.
The cop jumped out of his vehicle and shone a light on Matt's face.
"You called this in?"
"I did," he said and dropped his smoke onto the ground, stubbing it out with his work boot. "Two bodies. One in the outhouse, the other in the cabin stabbed to death, far as I could see."
"Jesus," the cop said, his hand on his sidearm. "We'll take over now. Thanks for your help."
"You're welcome," he said. "Do you want me to stay and give a statement?"
"Yes, but please remain in your vehicle. We'll take your statement once we've secured the scene. Detectives from Bellingham are on their way."
Matt nodded and got into his light-duty truck, turning it on so he could get warmed up while he waited.
What. A. Night.
He'd have a great story to tell the other security guards when he got back to the office. There'd be an investigation and if they caught the suspect or suspects, there'd be a trial, likely in Bellingham. He'd have to testify as one of the first witnesses on the scene.
Hell.
This story would be good for months.