Chapter 11
Agent Krapek walked carefully around the swamp, her heels sinking deeply in the Louisiana muck. As thick fog rolled eerily through the hundred-year-old cypress trees hanging with thick moss, Krapek rubbed the goose bumps popping up on her arms. She would have to remember to keep an extra pair of boots and a sweater in her bag.
“This is where they found the body.” The sheriff’s deputy pointed to a large cypress tree. “Well, I should say remains. After the gators were through with it, I’m surprised there was anything left.” He spit out a stream of brown juice.
Agent Krapek tried to clear her mind and not think of mangled body parts and ten-foot alligators. She swallowed hard and put on her best professional face. “What body parts were found?”
“Body part,” the deputy corrected. “A left arm, hand and fingers attached. A wedding band was still on the ring finger.”
“Who found it?” Krapek asked the deputy. Her tone of voice was crisp. She refused to show this piddling local officer that this whole situation was putting her on edge.
“Local fisherman. Aaron Boudreaux. He was checking his line for gators and pulled up an arm instead. Called us in and we secured the scene until the detective could come in. Then the medical examiner came and bagged it. You can check with her.”
“Nothing else was found? Clothing, personal items?” Agent Phipps asked.
The deputy adjusted his trousers by his belt and the chew in his mouth at the same time. “No, sir. Just the arm.”
“This area is frequently used by fishermen, correct?” Agent Krapek tried to take a step forward, but her shoe was rooted firmly in the muck. Cursing under her breath, she stepped out of the shoe before plucking it from the mud.
The deputy looked at her in amusement. “Yep. It’s a very popular spot for hunters.” He pointed to the east. “And it’s easy to get in and out of here without being seen, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s a good place to dump a body. The gator probably dragged it down below the water and hid it under a log until it was ready to finish eating. The arm could’ve floated downriver and ended up here.”
Krapek felt her stomach give another lurch. “Let’s get a call into the ME’s office and go take a look at what’s she got.”
“Our crime scene guys will be combing the area for the next couple of days. I’m not too hopeful we’ll find anything. With all the rain we’ve had, any evidence has probably been washed away,” the deputy said.
Agent Krapek stared out over the swamp. The fog was getting even thicker, and a low roll of thunder shook the ground. It is the perfect spot for dumping a body, she thought. Gators, quicksand-like soil, lots of undergrowth, and complete isolation. Whoever did this knew the area and knew what they were doing. If this arm did belong to Erin O’Malley, she hoped that Erin had been dead before the gator got to her and that the children didn’t suffer the same fate as their mother. Agent Krapek shuddered again, then passed it off as a coughing fit. Another visit to Matt O’Malley was in the works. He had to know more than he was telling. She didn’t buy his bullshit amnesia story one bit.
“What’s next?” Phipps asked as they headed toward the car.
“There’s nothing we can do here until the ME has identified the body. We don’t even know if that arm belongs to Erin. Let’s take a drive over there and see what she can tell us so far.” Agent Krapek drove away from the swampy area and made note of a large sign they passed on the way out. McDaniel’s Fish Camp. Bait. Beer. Groceries.