Trent’s head was spinning, not sure how to process this latest development. He was positive that Roy Archer had killed his family, but if this grave held another mother and daughter, where would that leave things? What motive would he have for killing them?
He drove to the park, foot flat to the floor, frustrated. One, he had to cancel his plans with Sydney, a nice enough woman he’d met at a bar. Tonight would have been their first date. Two, the case against Roy was left to simmer.
He and Amanda beat the medical examiner to the scene. Response officers were taking statements from those in the park and restricting access to newcomers. A man, holding the leash of a German shepherd, was talking with one of them. The only dog Trent saw around, so the man was likely the unfortunate person to stumble across the remains.
The Crime Scene truck pulled in, and two investigators got out and joined him and Amanda. One was tall and lean; the other shorter and on the squat side. They weren’t often sent out to their crime scenes so introductions were made again. Tall and lean was Mary Novak. Short and squat was Glenda Rowe.
The group walked to the nearest officer, who was also moving to close the distance.
“Harry Kimbell.” He pointed to the badge on his uniform.
“Detectives Steele and Stenson,” Amanda said, covering both introductions in one blow.
“CSIs Novak and Rowe. The body?” Tall and Lean was obviously in a hurry to get to work.
“Ah, yeah. I’ll take you to it, and then come back for the ME,” Kimbell said.
They started out into the woods, just as they had the previous morning. But it was even more chilling this time. There was no morning sun heralding a new day. Rather it was twilight, signaling an end.
“It’s just through here.” Kimbell gestured ahead, bending his hand to indicate a quick right.
“This is quite a distance from where Jill and Charlotte were buried,” Amanda said, pulling up next to Trent.
“And in the opposite direction.”
No one spoke for a few moments. The only sounds were the calls of birds and other woodland creatures.
“There.” Kimbell spoke solemnly and stepped back.
No further direction was needed. About ten feet away, the left hand of a female—slender fingers, long nails—reached out of the ground. As if from beyond the grave she begged to be heard, to be seen, to be avenged.
Diamonds on a wedding band she wore winked in the dying sunlight that squeezed through the tree canopy.
A gentle yet cold breeze kicked the leaves still clinging to the branches overhead. Trent shivered and zipped up his jacket to his chin.
The investigators set their cases down and got to work. Rowe took photographs of the hand and surrounding area. Novak started spouting instructions.
“Everyone needs to keep back until we’ve finished processing the area.” She made a brushing motion with her hands. “We’ll need to know everyone who was in the area before our arrival.”
“Just us, Kirk Duffy, and his dog,” Kimbell said. “Obviously we can’t account for any unknown passersby.”
“Duffy who found her?” Novak volleyed back.
“That’s right.” Kimbell hoisted up his pants.
She bobbed her head and gloved up.
Trent and Amanda moved a distance away with Officer Kimbell.
“What’s Duffy’s story?” Amanda asked him.
“Probably what you’ve already heard. He was out walking his dog, which he says he does every day about this time. Rover—not an entirely original name for a dog—found her.”
“You pull a background on Duffy yet?” Trent asked, his gaze distracted by one of the investigators setting an evidence marker down.
“Clean record.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Amanda told him. She looked at Trent. “Let’s go have a chat with Duffy and see what he can tell us.”
Trent followed his partner, but his mind was occupied with the Archer case and this one. What wasn’t seeding well in his gut was that wedding ring. First impressions would have him conclude the victim had been married. If Roy Archer wasn’t guilty, though, was there a serial killer stalking and killing women—and children—in Prince William County?