Read Online Shadow Fall (Tracers Series Book 9) by Laura Griffin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Laura Griffin
Tags: United States, Suspense, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, American, Contemporary Fiction, romantic suspense, Mystery & Suspense
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beneath her seat and went around to the cargo space. She unlatched her evidence kit, which she’d made from a tackle box. Not wanting to juggle both the kit and the flashlight, she cherry-picked the items she would need: gloves, tweezers, envelopes, a glass vial. She tucked everything inside the pocket of her windbreaker.
She glanced up at the sky. Dark, moonless. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since she’d let herself into her motel room thinking she was in for the night.
She closed the cargo door and switched on the flashlight. She swept the beam through the darkness. It didn’t take her long to find the path.
Tara passed the fire pit where forty-eight hours ago a huddle of deputies had stood watching her with skeptical eyes. Slicing through the darkness with the Maglite, she retraced her steps through the forest, scouring the ground for any further evidence that might have been overlooked.
High above her, an owl called out. Hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo, hoo .
Tara stared up at the pines. She glanced around. It was darker and colder than it had been the other night. Lonelier, too, which was good. She could concentrate without having to navigate the political obstacle course laid out by Ingram and his deputies.
She trained her gaze on the path, sweeping the light back and forth as she neared the location. Her footsteps slowed as she approached.
Catalina’s body had been cleared away, along with the leaves and debris surrounding it. Only a sad patch of dirt remained. Tara identified the spot by the equidistant marks in the soil where CSIs had staked out the inner crime scene with orange twine.
For a moment, Tara stared. Wind gusted between the trees, biting her through her jacket. The air was damp and tinged with sulfur. She switched off the flashlight and stood still, just listening, letting the place and the darkness settle around her.
Silver Springs Park, then here. Two separate crime scenes, both part of the geographical region known as the Piney Woods. Yesterday morning, Tara had combed the park, interviewing people and looking for clues. But this site had more to offer. Silver Springs Park was about Catalina. She’d chosen it, for whatever reason.
This place belonged to her killer.
He’d brought her here, posed her, and left her. He’d chosen this place. Why? Tara didn’t know, but it revealed something about him as surely as any fingerprint.
Bile rose in Tara’s throat as she pictured the mutilated corpse. The body said something. The setting said something. The killer had selected a wooded spot but not a secret one. He’d chosen a known hangout with enough traffic to ensure discovery, a guaranteed audience for his show.
Tara switched on the flashlight. She sidestepped the empty patch of dirt and found the path into the woods. Ingram believed the killer had used the path moving to and from his vehicle. The reports weren’t in yet, but the CSIs Tara had interviewed said the tire tracks were consistent with an SUV or a pickup, which in Texas narrowed it down to just less than half of registered vehicles.
Tara swept her flashlight back and forth until she spotted the tree, a sycamore. She recognized it from the video, and her pulse quickened as she stepped closer to examine its knobby roots. She scanned the dirt, the leaves . . . nothing.
She crouched down. Using a stick, she gently raked away pine needles and leaves until the base of the tree was swept clean.
Disappointment welled in her chest. She slipped the phone from her pocket. She’d taken a screen shot back at the motel, and now she compared the image from the crime-scene video with the tree in front of her. It was the same.
Except the cigarette butt was gone.
Tara stood and tucked her phone into her pocket. It had been a fluke, but she’d been hoping. Frustration burned her throat. Her limbs felt heavy. Three weeks’ worth of endless workdays and sleepless nights seemed to catch up with her, and she was suddenly so tired
She glanced up at the sky. Dark, moonless. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since she’d let herself into her motel room thinking she was in for the night.
She closed the cargo door and switched on the flashlight. She swept the beam through the darkness. It didn’t take her long to find the path.
Tara passed the fire pit where forty-eight hours ago a huddle of deputies had stood watching her with skeptical eyes. Slicing through the darkness with the Maglite, she retraced her steps through the forest, scouring the ground for any further evidence that might have been overlooked.
High above her, an owl called out. Hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo, hoo .
Tara stared up at the pines. She glanced around. It was darker and colder than it had been the other night. Lonelier, too, which was good. She could concentrate without having to navigate the political obstacle course laid out by Ingram and his deputies.
She trained her gaze on the path, sweeping the light back and forth as she neared the location. Her footsteps slowed as she approached.
Catalina’s body had been cleared away, along with the leaves and debris surrounding it. Only a sad patch of dirt remained. Tara identified the spot by the equidistant marks in the soil where CSIs had staked out the inner crime scene with orange twine.
For a moment, Tara stared. Wind gusted between the trees, biting her through her jacket. The air was damp and tinged with sulfur. She switched off the flashlight and stood still, just listening, letting the place and the darkness settle around her.
Silver Springs Park, then here. Two separate crime scenes, both part of the geographical region known as the Piney Woods. Yesterday morning, Tara had combed the park, interviewing people and looking for clues. But this site had more to offer. Silver Springs Park was about Catalina. She’d chosen it, for whatever reason.
This place belonged to her killer.
He’d brought her here, posed her, and left her. He’d chosen this place. Why? Tara didn’t know, but it revealed something about him as surely as any fingerprint.
Bile rose in Tara’s throat as she pictured the mutilated corpse. The body said something. The setting said something. The killer had selected a wooded spot but not a secret one. He’d chosen a known hangout with enough traffic to ensure discovery, a guaranteed audience for his show.
Tara switched on the flashlight. She sidestepped the empty patch of dirt and found the path into the woods. Ingram believed the killer had used the path moving to and from his vehicle. The reports weren’t in yet, but the CSIs Tara had interviewed said the tire tracks were consistent with an SUV or a pickup, which in Texas narrowed it down to just less than half of registered vehicles.
Tara swept her flashlight back and forth until she spotted the tree, a sycamore. She recognized it from the video, and her pulse quickened as she stepped closer to examine its knobby roots. She scanned the dirt, the leaves . . . nothing.
She crouched down. Using a stick, she gently raked away pine needles and leaves until the base of the tree was swept clean.
Disappointment welled in her chest. She slipped the phone from her pocket. She’d taken a screen shot back at the motel, and now she compared the image from the crime-scene video with the tree in front of her. It was the same.
Except the cigarette butt was gone.
Tara stood and tucked her phone into her pocket. It had been a fluke, but she’d been hoping. Frustration burned her throat. Her limbs felt heavy. Three weeks’ worth of endless workdays and sleepless nights seemed to catch up with her, and she was suddenly so tired
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