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down? I don’t want to leave him up there like a damn slaughtered hog.”
    Puller checked the back of the man’s neck. “We can cut the noose loose opposite the knot in the line to preserve it. But give me a sec.”
    He hustled out to his car and grabbed his rucksack.
    Back downstairs, he took out some plastic sheeting and a portable stepladder. “I’m going to wrap this around the body to safeguard any trace, then hold him up while you climb on the stepladder and cut him down. Remember, cut on the opposite side of the knot. You can use my knife.”
    They accomplished this without a hitch and the plastic-wrapped dead man leaned into Puller’s strong arms. He laid him down on the floor on his back while Cole climbed down.
    Puller said, “Turn on that light over there.” He motioned to a wall switch.
    The light came on and Puller examined Wellman’s neck. “Carotid and jugular compressed. Hyoid bone’s probably fractured. Post will confirm that.” He pointed to several spots around the dead man’s neck. “Blood vessels ruptured, means he was alive when they strung him up.”
    Puller carefully edged the cop up on one side so they could see his bound hands. “Check for defensive wounds or trace under the nails. If we’re real lucky we got some DNA leave-behind.”
    Cole used Puller’s Maglite to do this. “Nothing that I can see. Don’t understand that. Larry should’ve fought back. Or maybe the killer scrubbed it afterwards.”
    “I think this probably explains it.” Puller pointed to matted blood in the man’s hair. “They knocked him out before hanging him.”
    He pulled a skin thermometer from his rucksack, ran it over Wellman’s forehead, and checked the reading.
    “Little under five degrees down from normal.” He swiftly did the required calculation in his head. “Dead about three hours. So about half past two.”
    They heard cars pulling to a stop outside.
    “Cavalry’s here,” said Puller.
    Cole looked down at her colleague. “You seem to know what you’re doing,” she said softly, staring down at the dead man.
    “I’m here to help, if you want it. Your call.”
    “I do.” She turned and walked toward the steps.
    Puller said, “I know you’ve already processed the scene, but I’d like to do it again.” He added, “I’m not looking to step on anyone’s professional toes, but I’ve got people I have to report to. And they expect our investigations to be processed in a particular way.”
    “I don’t care so long as we get the son of a bitch who did this.”
    Cole headed up the stairs.
    Puller looked down at the dead cop and then over at the far walls where the collection of blood and flesh against the studs revealed where the adult Reynoldses had been executed.
    Executed
was really the only way to look at it.
    Head shot for him, torso for her. He wondered why the differenttreatment. And then the kids not shot at all. Usually with mass killing the same method of murder was employed. Changing weapons took time, precious time. And killing and then moving the bodies took still more time. But maybe this killer had all the time in the world.
    Puller glanced back down at Wellman’s body.
    Every murder was the same in that someone was dead from a violent cause. Yet other than that factor, everything was always different.
    And solving it was like treating cancer. What worked in one case almost never worked in another. They all required their own unique solution.
    He walked off to join Cole upstairs.

CHAPTER
    12
    T HE THREE D RAKE C OUNTY COPS stood in a row looking down at their fallen colleague. As they did this Puller studied them. All about six feet tall, two lean, one chubby. They were young, the oldest in his early thirties. Puller spotted an anchor tattoo on the hand of one.
    “Navy?” he asked.
    The man nodded, drawing his gaze briefly from Wellman’s body.
    The tattoo, Puller knew, had been done after the man had left the service. No tattoos that were visible with your