Allison looked past Nicole at a man in his early twenties who was leaning against the back bumper of the mobile command post. He was wearing workout gear but no jacket, even though the temperature felt like it was dropping below freezing.
She jerked her chin in his direction. “Is that the guy who found it?”
The young man clutched a paper cup, the steam rising in the air. A dark gray blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, but Allison could hear his teeth chattering thirty feet away.
“The citizen’s pretty upset,” Nicole said. “He’s not certain where he was on the trail when he found the hand. Or maybe I should say where he was when he found the coyote that found the hand. Unfortunately, he didn’t leave it there. Since he was having trouble getting a cell signal, he wrapped it up in his jacket and brought it back here.”
“And you’re sure it’s a woman’s hand?”
“It’s smaller, with no calluses, no age spots—and it’s got pink nail polish. The only missing person we have that matches it is Katie. A couple of the fingertips are intact. If we’re lucky she scratched whoever did this.”
Allison’s stomach rose up and pressed against the bottom of her throat. “So was it cut off? Is this a dismemberment?” With difficulty she managed to swallow, bile bitter on her tongue.
“No. The medical examiner has already said that it looks consistent with animal predation. Now our goal is to find the body as fast as we can and get the crime scene roped off. All we need is to have the media show up and muck up the evidence worse than it’s already going to be.” Nicole looked past Allison. “That’s why we brought in a cadaver dog.”
A plump woman in her midfifties was coming out of the mobile command post. A tan dog with dark ears and a muzzle scrambled down the steps behind her. They walked over to a man Allison recognized as Leif Larson, the ERT team leader. He was solidly built, over six-foot-two, with reddish-blonde hair that always reminded Allison of a Viking. He was a quiet man who kept his own counsel, but when he said something it was worth listening to.
Allison followed Nicole over to the two of them, and Nicole introduced her to Belinda, the trainer.
“German shepherd?” Allison hazarded. She hadn’t grown up around dogs.
“Belgian Malinois,” Belinda said with pride. “AKC registered. And certified cadaver dog.”
She leaned down to stroke the dog’s head. It whined, low and eager.
“Most dogs can only stick with an odor on the ground. So for a tracking dog to find your missing young lady, she would have to have walked up here on her own power, leaving traces on the bushes and the ground. But Toby’s different. Cadaver dogs can scent in the air, too. So if that girl’s body is up here, no matter how she got here, Toby will find her. Even if someone carried her or brought her by car.” She stroked the dog again. “Are your people ready?” she asked Leif.
“Yeah. We want to be able to find her while there is still some light.”
Belinda leaned over and unclipped the leash. “Find, Toby. Find!”
With an eager whine, Toby raced up the path. In a few seconds he was out of sight.
“How do we know when he’s found something?” Allison asked.
“You’ll hear it.” Belinda tucked the leash into her jacket pocket. “The more excited his bark, the stronger the odor. Cadaver dogs are like good hunting dogs. A big bird excites the dog more than a small one. And for a cadaver dog, a good strong smell is more exciting than a weak one. Dogs are honest. They can’t contain their excitement if the smell’s really good.”
“If he finds her, he won’t disturb her, will he?” Allison had her own disturbing thought. Animals had already been eating at Katie. “The dog would still know Katie is a person, right?” She swallowed, trying to push down a sudden rush of nausea. “Toby wouldn’t see her as a meal, would he?”
Belinda shook her head sharply. “Don’t worry. Toby’s trained. He knows he can only possess the scent, not the object. As soon as he’s located the body, he’ll go down well away from it. By going prone, he controls himself. And he’ll wait for us to come.”
They waited, mostly in silence. Five minutes passed. Ten. Twenty.
In the distance, a bark. Allison froze. The ERT members raised their heads, listening with all their beings. A minute later, there was another bark. Triumphant.
FOREST PARK
January 4
Standing about twenty feet away from Katie Converse’s body, Leif Larson was making a list of everything that needed to be done to process the scene. Half hidden by a rhododendron, the body lay sprawled on its belly, head turned to one side. The right arm stretched overhead. The right hand was gone. The left hand, which still wore a black knit glove, was curled near what was left of her face. The glove had saved the hand from predation, but it also meant there would likely be nothing under the nails. Leif just had to hope they had better luck with the scavenged hand.