Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

J o gazed out of the passenger window of the Tahoe as Sam navigated the dirt road winding through the dense pine forest. Thorne Industries’ skeletal storage facility loomed ahead, an intrusive presence in the otherwise pristine landscape.

Lucy, perched in the backseat, stared intently at a small path leading down to the water. Her ears stood upright, alert and focused.

Jo glanced at Sam, noticing the furrow in his brow.

“I don’t like this,” Jo said, gesturing toward the construction site. “Sticks out like a sore thumb.”

Sam nodded, his eyes fixed on the road. “I agree. It’s a shame to see nature get ruined.”

As they drove closer to the water, the road became rockier, and the terrain turned swampy. The Tahoe bounced and jostled, but Sam maintained a steady grip on the wheel.

“This place is so remote,” Jo mused, her eyes scanning the surroundings.

“Definitely not a nice beach spot.” Sam glanced out over the swampy area that went out about twenty feet before they could see a trickle of open water. “Good place to catch bass, though.”

“Also a good place to commit a crime with no witnesses.”

Lucy whined softly, her nose pressed against the window.

Jo reached back and patted her head, trying to soothe the agitated dog. “Easy, girl,” Jo murmured. “We’re going to check it out.”

As they approached the end of the dirt road, Sam pulled the Tahoe to a stop. The construction site stood silent, the steel beams casting long shadows across the ground.

Sam and Jo exited the vehicle. Lucy bounded ahead, her nose to the ground, her tail wagging with purpose. The air was still and heavy, the only sound the crackling of ice.

This part of the lake was swampy, with reeds and humps of grass sticking up from the frozen water.

“Look,” Sam said, pointing to a spot where the brush had been trampled. “Someone’s been here recently.”

Jo nodded, her eyes scanning the area. “And there,” she said, gesturing toward a section of the swamp where the ice had been broken. “Looks like something happened farther out.”

Lucy barked sharply, her ears pricked forward.

They picked their way through the swamp. Here, they could see that farther out, the water was moving enough that ice hadn’t formed.

“That could be where he went in,” Sam said.

Jo surveyed the scene, her mind racing. “If they dragged Alex, he was already incapacitated when they brought him here.”

Sam nodded, his eyes narrowed. “They could have met him at the Moose and slipped something into his drink. Once he passed out, they brought him here and pushed him under the ice.”

“We just need to find solid evidence.” Jo scanned the area for something that might be clear evidence that Alex had been here. She remembered the tears in his orange jacket, but she didn’t see any fabric sticking up on the broken branches. That would have been too much to hope for.

“Let’s see if Lucy can find anything,” Sam said.

Lucy was already familiar with Alex’s scent, since she’d been with them when the body had been pulled from the lake, so she knew just what to do when Sam instructed her to sniff for Alex’s scent.

They watched her zigzag around a path toward the open water. Then she veered off and stopped at something else. She looked back at Sam and Jo and gave a little woof.

“Guess she found something.” Sam and Jo headed toward the dog.

“What is it?” Sam asked, petting Lucy on the head.

Lucy snuffled around a grass clump.

“Feathers?” Jo pointed to a clump of white feathers and then looked up into the sky. “This seems like a good place for ducks, but maybe those aren’t from any of the ducks around here.”

“Alex’s down jacket,” Sam said. He pulled out an evidence bag and began collecting them. “That would explain why the killer didn’t clean them up. They could have spilled out if the jacket got ripped but would look perfectly natural here.”

“Good job, Lucy.” Jo petted Lucy, who wagged her tail.

Sam stood, holding the bag up. “Maybe this is a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”

“If they did drag Alex out here, they would have needed a vehicle to transport him. It’s too remote to carry a body on foot.” Jo’s gaze drifted back toward the construction site.

Lucy’s sharp bark startled Jo. She noticed the dog was no longer beside them. The bark had come from up near the road.

“Looks like Lucy was thinking the same exact thing you were.” Sam headed back up the path.

Lucy was standing on the side of the road, her ears alert and her body rigid, staring intently at something in the dirt.

“Tire tracks.” Jo crouched, examining the tracks, then took out her phone and started snapping photos. “These are recent. And they’re not from any construction vehicles.”

“We need to get Wyatt or Kevin out here to make some casts.”

Sam was about to call the station on his own phone when Lucy’s whine distracted him. He noticed the dog’s gaze fixed on a spot near the tire tracks. Curious, Sam approached and crouched, his eyes widening as he saw a pile of ashes amid an area of tamped-down snow.

“Someone was standing here,” Sam said, his voice low. “Smoking.”

Jo joined him, her brow furrowed. “Maybe assessing the construction.”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t think so. The construction is on the other side of the car. The person was standing facing the swamp.”

Jo’s eyes widened as the realization hit her. “You think the killer stood here and watched Alex’s body sink beneath the ice?”

Sam nodded, his jaw clenched. “That’s cold. Really cold.”

Jo shook her head in disbelief. “Who even smokes cigarettes these days besides Hazel Webster? And she’s in prison.”

Sam leaned closer, examining the ashes. “These aren’t from cigarettes. The ash is too coarse. Too big. This is from a cigar.”

Jo pulled out her phone and began snapping photos of the ashes and the surrounding area. “A cigar smoker? That narrows down our suspect list.”

Sam stood up, brushing the snow from his pants. “And who do we know that’s associated with Thorne Industries and smokes cigars?”

Jo’s eyes met Sam’s, a knowing look passing between them. “Victor Sorrentino.”

Sam pulled out his phone and dialed on speaker. “I’ll call Reese and get someone out here to take a cast of those tire marks. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and they’ll match Victor’s car.”

“Or Beryl’s.” Jo couldn’t help the sarcastic remark.

“Hey, Sam,” Reese answered the phone. “I’m glad you called because I have good news!”

Sam glanced at Jo. “Really? We could use some. What is it?”

“Judge Warner just signed off on your warrant for the surveillance tapes from the Drunken Moose.”

Sam smiled. “That is good news. We’ll be back at the station in ten. Have the paperwork ready.”