The Hidden

Diego smiled grimly at Fuller’s dry humor. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “What have we got here?”


“Female, as you know. I’d say twenty-five, maybe a little more. About five-six, weight about a hundred and thirty. There’s a lot of blood, but the hair looks to be medium brown.” He hesitated. “I can’t tell you about the eyes, though,” he said softly, “because they’re gone. She was killed at point-blank range. She was dead before he shot her in the face, though. The kill shot was to her abdomen. Huge hole, though, so I think she bled out quickly. For her sake, I hope so anyway. Take a look at the wrists—she was tied and dragged up here. She was wearing jeans, otherwise I’m sure her legs would show scratches from that, but you can see the evidence on her clothes. And she’s missing one shoe—a white sneaker.”

Diego looked down toward where the road was, but he couldn’t see it from there. He turned and looked up toward the Conway Ranch. He couldn’t see the house or any of the buildings, because the trees and underbrush were so thick.

“Almost perfectly halfway between the road and the ranch,” he said.

“No one could see what happened from either direction,” Fuller said.

“No car left down on the road,” Diego said, “which supports your theory that she was dragged through the woods.”

“Yup,” Fuller agreed.

“Time of death?” Diego asked.

“Sometime late last night or very early this morning,” Fuller said. “I’d say between 11:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m.”

“Gray told us hikers found her. Do you know any details?”

“A young couple. The girl was so startled she fell and twisted her ankle. The boyfriend accompanied her to the hospital. They know you or one of the others will want to interview them.”

He would, of course, Diego thought. But he didn’t think they would be able to tell him much.

Their best lead would be getting her ID’d quickly, because the killer had known her. He was certain of it.

Maybe she had rejected him, so he’d wanted to hurt her the way she had hurt him. And he had to wonder... Was she yet another descendant of Nathan Kendall?

“Any idea what the murder weapon was?” Diego asked Fuller. “Antique?”

The ME was thoughtful for a minute. He looked past Diego to Gray, who was giving instructions to the crime-scene techs.

“Another Colt—a Walker model. It was the most powerful handgun out there until the invention of .357 Magnum,” Fuller told him. “He shot and killed her here, then picked up after himself. There were three shots. Maybe she squirmed, but he missed anything vital first—there was one bullet that just got her in the arm. I’ve gotten it out already, it will go to the lab. The second ripped through her abdomen like a cannon, which tells us more about the gun, as well. The third destroyed her face. I don’t have the second two bullets yet, but I do have the first, which is why I can be so confident of the weapon. It’s rare, if that helps you any.” He shrugged. “Sorry—I’m pretty sure of the gun, at any rate, because I’ve studied old weaponry. Hope that helps.”

“It does. Thanks.”

Diego looked out over the area. Matt and Brett were carefully following a trail of broken brush and flattened leaves, staying to the side so as not to taint any evidence. The terrain was steep, filled with jutting rocks, old twisted trees and thick brush.

He watched his step as he caught up to them as quickly as he could.

“There!” Matt called. He was ahead of Diego by about fifty yards. “I can see down to the road. He must have driven her there, parked, then dragged her up the hill.”

“What have you got?” Gray shouted from above.

“The trail leads to the road.”

“I’ll send the techs over. Maybe the killer left something by where he parked,” Gray called back to him.