Kate’s attention went to the girl’s parents. “Stay here.” Touching the radio at her lapel, she started across the ice. “Be advised the suspect may be on a snowmobile.”
Her voice and demeanor were outwardly calm, but John sensed an emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on beneath all that control. Because another body had shown up on her watch? Or was there something else going on? Was he just being paranoid? Or was Kate Burkholder holding out on him?
“Why would he dump the body way out here?” she asked.
“People use this place much? For skating?”
Her gaze met his. “It gets crowded on the weekend this time of year.”
“Maximum shock value.”
They crested the earthen dam. John saw the knife-slash of skate blades in the snow left by the girl as she’d walked down the embankment.
“There.” Kate pointed. “Down by the creek. In those trees.”
John saw what looked like a garbage bag that had been dumped and ripped open by wild dogs.
Kate started down the hill, her arms flailing as she skidded over the frozen peaks of earth. John followed, but he never took his eyes off the object in the snow.
“Watch for tracks,” he warned.
They trudged through a deep snowdrift. Then, as if blocked by some invisible force field, they stopped. John had seen a lot of crime scenes in the years he’d been a cop. He’d seen death from natural causes and murders so bloody and horrific that even veteran cops dropped to their knees and vomited. He’d seen the neat and brutal execution-style murders common to drug dealers eager to make their mark. He’d seen innocent children cut down in the crossfire of gangland wars. He’d seen babies murdered and dumped like trash. None of that prepared him for the sight that accosted him now.
The body lay next to a garbage bag. John saw pale flesh streaked with blood. A thatch of brown hair. The dead stare of a taxidermist’s glass. A mouth stretched into a silent scream. There was a lot of blood, and it made for a shocking contrast against pristine snow. Several pink objects lay a few feet from the body. At first glance, he thought they were scraps of fabric, and his cop’s mind jumped at the thought of possible evidence. Upon closer inspection, he realized these objects were organs that had been removed from the victim’s abdominal cavity.
Pieces had been cut from her body. He saw part of what had once been a breast. A finger lay ten feet from her outstretched arm. A length of pink-gray intestine leaked a red-green substance into the snow like a macabre snow cone. She’d been eviscerated.
“Oh my God.”
Vaguely, he was aware of Kate beside him, breathing as if she’d run a marathon. A sound that was part gasp, part groan escaped her. John felt that same sound echo inside him. An expression of outrage and shock rolled into a single, awful emotion. He clung to his clinical perspective. But it was a thready clutch, and before he could stop it, his mind took him back to the day he’d found Nancy and the girls. He saw charred, blackened bodies with grotesque, clutching hands. The smell of cooked meat and singed hair . . .
“Any sign of the suspect?”
Kate’s voice brought him back. She was speaking into her lapel mike. She looked at Tomasetti, but her eyes seemed slightly unfocused. “Call the sheriff’s office. Tell them we need every man they can spare. I want this place surrounded. And get Coblentz. Tell him to drop everything and get out here.”
She dropped her hand from the lapel mike and briefly closed her eyes. “Goddamnit.”
“Do you recognize her?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “My God, it’s hard to tell.”
He took that first, dangerous step toward the body. The stench of blood hung in the air. The victim had been cut from sternum to pubis. Several organs bulged from the opening. Steam rose from its bloody depths, and John knew that just a short time ago this woman had been alive.
“This is a huge escalation.” He could feel his heart pounding, the rush of blood through his veins. He wanted to think it was from the run. But he recognized the primal fear of death coursing through his body. Until this moment, he hadn’t known he even possessed such a strong will to live.
Outdoor crime scenes were difficult. The cold and snow and sheer size of this one would make it a nightmare.
“Chief!”
John looked toward the dam twenty yards away to see T.J. sliding down the embankment. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kate physically gather herself. She met the young officer at the base of the dam.
“He got another one,” she said.
T.J.’s eyes flicked toward the body, then quickly away. “Aw, man. Aw, Jesus.”
John addressed T.J. “I’m going to follow the tracks. I need you two to stay here, secure the scene until I can get a couple of techs out—”
“I’m going with you,” Kate cut in, her voice fierce.
“I’d rather—”
“You’re wasting time.” Drawing her weapon, she started toward the woods.