At least the woman was beyond suffering now, Jeremy thought. He didn’t know when she had died—a medical examiner would have to deal with that question—but he could only pray that she had been strangled, as seemed likely from the dark mottling of the flesh around her neck, before suffering the slash across her open mouth that was like a surprised and bloody grimace.
He heard the sound of sirens and something in him unwound at the thought that he was no longer going to be left to deal with the horror alone. There was something surreal about standing there in the cornfield, feeling the warmth of the sunshine struggling through the clouds and the soft breeze that was still enough to force the cornstalks to bend slightly, their rustling like the whispering of some ancient tongue.
“Excuse me,” Brad muttered suddenly. Then, leaning on Rowenna for support, he made it to his feet and about ten yards away before he was ill.
It was a horrible thing to see his friend so broken, Jeremy thought.
Rowenna had regained control of herself, he noticed, though she was very carefully avoiding looking at the scarecrow. She was standing next to Brad, gently touching his shoulder, just enough for him to know she was there in case he needed her.
A moment later, three cars arrived, driving right into the edge of field before they jerked to a halt. The emergency operator had obviously gotten through to Joe, because he was the first to get out of a car; Jeremy could just see him through the green stalks. A uniformed officer was right behind him as he strode through the cornstalks, shoving them out of the way until he was standing in front of the staked body and staring up at it, horror and disbelief written across his face.
“Get the scene cordoned off—now,” Joe said, and the officer, white-faced, hurried to carry out the order, calling out to the others as they exited their cars. Seconds later, while Joe was still staring tight-lipped at the body, a fourth car arrived. The man who got out was obviously the medical examiner, judging by the equipment he carried. A crime-scene unit made its appearance in his wake.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” the M.E. exclaimed, crossing himself as he stared up at the body.
Joe shook his head, turning away at last. “No fuckups,” he said curtly. “No mistakes, no evidence missed or lost or compromised, do you understand?”
No one answered him, but it was clear from their expressions that his message had gotten through loud and clear. One of the crime-scene officers began to snap pictures. Someone else stumbled away and, like Brad, was sick.
Joe made his way over to Jeremy just as Rowenna returned. Brad was sitting on the ground farther down the row, pale and shaken. Joe gave Brad a cursory look, then arched a brow to Jeremy in question.
“It isn’t Mary,” Jeremy said quietly.
“How the hell did you find her?” Joe asked.
Rowenna took a deep, steadying breath and answered. “I found her. My car ran out of gas, like I told you.” Her tone was flat and dull. She shook her head, as if she were still trying to comprehend the chain of events herself. “I…I was attacked by crows.”
Joe frowned fiercely. “What were you doing out of the car?” Before she could respond, he went on. “And what do you mean, crows attacked you?”
“I swear to you, the crows attacked me,” Rowenna said. “It was like they were…I don’t know, like they were driving me out here.”
“So you ran into the field?” Joe asked sternly.
Rowenna lifted her hands in confusion. “I just…I tried to get away from them, that’s all.”
“So then you found…her,” Joe said very quietly.
Rowenna nodded and shoved her hands into the pockets of the light jacket she was wearing. She was still frighteningly pale, Jeremy thought. And she still wouldn’t look at the corpse, not that he could blame her for that.
The clouds shifted as the wind picked up, and for a moment the sun shone brightly and the day felt almost hot.
The smell of death, which had been strangely missing before, was suddenly pungent.
Another cop ran off and, seconds later, could be heard retching. Joe let out a sigh and turned to the medical examiner. “Harold? Any preliminary thoughts?”
“Looks like strangulation,” the M.E. replied. He was a man who looked just right for his job. Medium height, medium build, steady blue eyes and neatly combed silver hair.
He was as white as the rest of them.
“I could have told you that,” Joe said.
So could I, Jeremy thought, but there was no point in alienating anyone by saying so.
“Fine, then you can have my job,” Harold replied angrily. “I can’t tell you much more until you get her down…and I’ve had a chance to do an autopsy.”
“I want this whole damn field searched,” Joe said. “Step-by-step. Jenkins, get on the radio. I want every farmer in the county out checking on his scarecrows.” He frowned slightly. “Who owns this parcel?” he asked.
“The MacElroys,” Rowenna said quietly. “I think the property is actually Ginny’s.”
“Nick MacElroy’s old auntie owns these fields?” Joe said, surprised.