Chapter 15

2:45 p.m.

The patrolman remained outside as Francisco and I stepped into the cabin. Yellow light cascaded from track lighting. My first glimpse surprised me. Instead of a dilapidated wood shack turned into a man cave, the floors were covered with various rugs. The furniture Iʼd guessed to be a hodgepodge of garage sale purchases turned out to be name brand quality and in good shape. A three-sectional couch and matching recliner. Several deer heads peered down from the wall above a fireplace, their dark eyes keeping a vigilant watch. On a shelf above the fireplace was an assortment of pictures. Each depicted the hunters with smiling faces, kneeling on the ground, their rifles strapped over their shoulders, hands grasping the antlers of the deer theyʼd killed.

The only signs of disarray in the room were empty beer bottles scattered on top of a glass-top coffee table. Francisco gestured with a finger. “If we’re lucky, maybe the killer left prints on one of the bottles.”

“Let’s hope so.”

We followed the stench into the kitchen. The floor between the sink and dining room table had standing water. Two large water jugs leaned against one leg of the table. A chair had been knocked on its side. In another sat the victim, Eric Baxter, staring at me with dark, hollowed-out eye sockets. His lips were sewn shut with twine. Blood covered his face, neck, and torso. Maggots and blow flies had taken up residence along the edges of his mouth and nose. There were teeth or claw marks along the outer rim of where his eyes used to be. Flesh had been eaten away along some of his extremities. Parts of the intestines protruded from his abdomen. Francisco coughed up phlegm. He wiped his mouth with the back of a gloved hand. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve heard of scavengers eating a corpse, man, but until now never witnessed it.”

A knot twisted in my gut. “Me eith—” I rushed to the back door, slammed it against the side of the cabin and puked on the steps. I cupped my gloved hands and filled them with the rain and rinsed my mouth out several times. My nasal passages stung from the vomit. The images of the body flashed in my mind. I wished I could go back in time and un-see it.

When I walked back in, the medical examiner had arrived. He winked at me. “Been there, done that, Rebecca.” He clasped his hands. “Now who’s hungry for some eggs?”

I raised one hand in the air, the other still on my knee. “Please, Ray, I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh,” heʼd said, smiling, “you thought I meant like over easy or sunny-side up.” He reached into his bag and removed a plastic evidence container. “I meant larvae eggs, oh, and blow flies and maggots. You know, to determine time of death.” He put the container back in the bag and retrieved his camera. “But first we must document.”

He snapped shot after shot of the body from different angles. Two men and a woman wearing white Tyvek suits walked in from the Crime Scene Unit to begin the tedious process of collecting evidence, dusting for latent prints, and documenting the crime scene.

The lieutenant walked over. His face scrunched from the sight of the corpse then turned to my partner and me. “Detectives. Why don’t y’all get out of here. CSU and the ME can handle the scene. I want you two to contact next of kin. Maybe the family can help us identify a suspect.”

My feet were moving toward the door before he finished the sentence.