The First Death (Columbia River, #4)

From fifty feet away, Evan saw the frown on Rowan’s face.

He followed the deputy along the river toward the crime scene. He’d been warned before he left Bend that it would be a long hike. He’d put on hiking boots and appropriate clothing and then added more layers and some supplies to a small backpack. In the past, he’d learned anything could happen at a crime scene in the forest and tried to be prepared.

Evan knew that Rowan had discovered the body, but she wouldn’t have known he’d caught the case.

He had a good idea why she was frowning.

It wasn’t Evan’s turn for a new case, but there were too many similarities to two investigations already on his desk. His supervisor had heard “abandoned nude female body” and immediately assigned it to Evan.

Is it related?

So far only basic commonalities tied his other two women’s cases together. Age of victim. Strangulation. Nude. Body dumped. He had no evidence the crimes were related, but his gut told him they were. The other bodies had been left in quiet semiremote areas where someone would eventually find them.

He wondered if Rowan had been working a training exercise for Thor or just been out for a random hike.

Our paths are crossing a lot lately.

Usually he saw her a few times a year. Now it’d been three times within a week.

She sat on a large rock in the shade, several yards from the crime scene tape, facing away from the water. A breeze moved some fir branches and the sunshine touched her, lighting up her hair in its long, wavy ponytail.

Evan liked her. He’d always thought she was the total package. Intelligence, personality, looks. He’d been tempted to ask her out in the past, but the situation had never been right. Like now. A crime scene wasn’t the place to suggest a date.

Inside the large taped-off area, pale limbs were draped over the rocks on the riverbank. Her legs were in the water. A forensic tech slowly circled just inside the tape, photographing every square foot of the scene. She wore tall rubber boots, shooting some of her photos while standing in the water. Evan knew she’d move closer and closer to the body, documenting everything.

“Rowan, Thor.” Evan greeted both of them, and Thor’s black, bushy tail wagged against the ground as he sat, clearing a triangle in the fir needles and small rocks.

“Why are you on this case?” asked Rowan as a greeting. “Isn’t your plate rather full?”

I knew it. She wants me focused on the Ken Steward murder.

“No more full than usual,” he said. “I’m not ignoring Ken’s case,” he added gently. “I always balance a few.” He turned to glance at the body near the river. “I was assigned this one because it’s similar to two others I have.” He met her brown gaze.

Her face cleared. “I read about those murdered young women. They’re connected?” She frowned. “And this one could be too?”

“Maybe.”

“This woman might not have been found for weeks,” said Rowan. “Only serious hikers come up here.”

“Like you,” said Evan. “What brought you here?”

Rowan looked away. “I hike around here occasionally. I don’t usually come this far up the river, but Thor led me to this spot. He knew.”

“You don’t have to stick around,” Evan told her. “I’ll take a statement and you can go.” He pulled out a tiny notepad and pen. “Did you notice anyone else in the area while you were hiking?”

“No. Nothing,” she said. “Besides . . . she’s been here for a while.”

Evan nodded. Even at this distance he could tell decomposition had started to take a toll. “The medical examiner shouldn’t be far behind me. She can give an estimate of how long she thinks she’s been dead.”

“I really have nothing to report except that we found her,” said Rowan. “But I’d like to stick around for a while.”

“No problem.” Evan put the pad and pen back in his pocket.

Voices sounded, and a group of the sheriff’s department’s teenage explorers headed their way. At a scene like this, Evan needed a dozen sets of eyes combing the surrounding area for evidence. One of the deputies who had been talking to the forensic tech immediately strode toward the new group. “I’ll get them organized, Detective,” he told Evan.

“Appreciate it.” Evan didn’t want them staring at the corpse.

“The ME’s with them,” added the deputy.

Evan spotted Dr. Natasha Lockhart bringing up the rear of the group.

“It’s Dr. Lockhart. Good,” said Rowan. “She knows her shit.”

Evan agreed. Dr. Lockhart was his favorite of the medical examiners who covered his territory. The ME was petite with long, dark hair. She looked like a college student, not a pathologist.

The explorers swarmed around the deputy, and Dr. Lockhart approached Evan and Rowan.

“Hey, Thor.” The doctor addressed the dog first. Thor stood and pushed his nose into her outstretched hand, his tail a blur with its rapid wagging. “How’s my favorite boy?” She squatted next to the dog and gave him a hug, making Thor squirm with joy.

Evan met Rowan’s gaze. She smiled, apparently used to people greeting her dog before her. Evan realized he sometimes did the same with other dogs and owners.

“Hello also to you two,” said Dr. Lockhart, standing back up. “Beautiful day. I appreciate working outdoors on days like these.”

Her words sounded a bit callous considering a dead woman was nearby, but Evan completely understood. When you worked with death every day, you acknowledged the good things wherever you found them.

Dr. Lockhart looked toward the crime scene. “Looks like Jenna will be taking photos for a bit longer.” She met Rowan’s gaze. “I understand you found her?”

“Yes.”

The doctor paused. When Rowan didn’t expand, she locked eyes with Evan. “Have you taken a look?”

“Not yet. I just got here too.”

“Let’s go.” Dr. Lockhart headed toward the crime scene tape.

Evan checked the explorers. The deputy had them in a line and moving into the woods a step at a time, an arm’s length apart on either side, gazes scanning the ground. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he told Rowan, and he followed the doctor. They both stopped to sign the scene log.

The dead woman lay on her back on the rocks. Her discolored abdomen was severely swollen with gases from decomposition. The current of the river made her lower legs seem to undulate, appearing gelatinous. Small animals had been at her eyes, mouth, and fingers. She had long, dark-blonde hair, and Evan couldn’t guess her age; her body had swollen too much. There was some sort of flower tattooed on one ankle, and her toenail polish was hot pink.

She’s younger. I can feel it.

She was looking more and more similar to his other two victims. Dr. Lockhart held a small flashlight next to the woman’s neck, examining the mottling. Evan couldn’t distinguish strangulation bruises from the rest of the discolorations, but the doctor was nodding.

“Strangled?” Evan asked.

“It’s a possibility.” The doctor did a quick visual scan of the woman’s body and then palpated the skull, checking for depressions or injuries. “All clear so far. Help me roll her over.” Evan stepped into a few inches of water, trusting his boots to keep his feet dry. He rolled the woman on her side, and the doctor scanned her back with the flashlight. Her skin was dark purple. “Looks like this is the location where she died. You must be wondering if it’s related to the other two strangled young women,” Dr. Lockhart said quietly.

“That’s my job,” answered Evan.

“You haven’t found a concrete link between the other two?”

“No. Just that the situations and victims were similar. No physical evidence.”

“I remember one was from Portland . . . where was the other from?”

“Idaho,” said Evan.

“Both far from home,” said the doctor.

“Bend is a vacation destination,” said Evan.