CHAPTER SIX

Having descended again to join Ethan on the ledge with the body, Rachel edged forward, boots scraping the rocky surface. Eyes sharp, she surveyed the grim tableau. The crime scene was narrow, treacherous. One of the victim's legs dangled over the edge towards the steep fall thirty feet below.

Ethan stood on the other side of the corpse where he'd navigated to while Rachel had descended to join him.

Ethan mirrored her caution, his hand skimming the rough wall for balance.

"Watch your step," she murmured, voice low against the howl of the wind.

Every crunch of sandstone underfoot felt like a shout in the silence. Thirty feet might as well have been a mile. The drop loomed, unforgiving.

"Over there," Rachel's finger jabbed towards the ground, where specks of color clashed with the dirt. Ethan frowned, bending over, his hand trailing along the wall.

She couldn't help but notice the small trail of pebbles knocked loose by his movements.

She winced as he bent to acknowledge the small shards of turquoise she'd spotted.

Rachel crouched, her hand hovering above the earth, inches from a crudely fashioned pattern in the dust, near the victim's head.

"Look here." Rachel pointed to a pattern of stones arranged in a deliberate shape—a circle broken by lines, an amateur's attempt at symbolism.

There were other aspects that also pointed to familiarity with native burial rights. Ritual marks, etched in the woman's skin—especially along the arms.

Superficial cuts…

She frowned at the severed tissue, the lines of red in the pale skin. She scowled, shaking her head. "Heather Sinclair was similar…"

She glanced down off the cliff towards the abandoned farmstead in the distance. "Why is someone posing white women as if they're Native?"

Ethan shifted where he stood, but then winced as he realized just how little ground remained between him and the edge.

"Her purse," Ethan said suddenly, nodding.

Rachel hadn't spotted the item from where she stood on the treacherously narrow ledge. The wider stone platform was behind her, the rocky bulge they'd navigated to find the body jutting out like a pregnant body blocking their egress.

"How did he bring her onto this ledge?" Rachel muttered, her back against the cold stone to keep herself from falling.

Ethan had gingerly moved forward, and now reached out, plucking the purse from where it had fallen under the woman's left arm. He tugged gingerly, careful not to pull too hard lest he fall.

The purse looked as if it had been well-loved and used daily. The leather was worn and frayed at the edges, but it was still sturdy. He opened it, and there, among the receipts and the bills, was a Texas driver's license. He read out the name aloud, the wind howling and whispering around them.

"Jenna Amos."

"Address?"

Ethan read it off to her.

"Pretty close to home," Rachel said, frowning.

"Clearly the same killer," Ethan replied. "Same MO. Same victim type."

"Serial," she confirmed. "Careful!" she warned sharply as Ethan tried to lean over and take a photo of the victim's face. More stones scattered from the narrow ledge.

"If you fall, I'm not going on that date with you tonight."

Ethan's face had paled from the sound of tumbling stones, but he forced a quick chuckle. "Yeah… yeah, right. Maybe we should call forensics."

"Need the coroner's input," Rachel agreed.

The two of them took videos of the body from every angle before slowly, and gingerly, stepping back towards the pregnant rock. Rachel paused long enough to hold Ethan's hand and pull him along the wall.

The two of them stepped clear of the narrow ledge, both glancing back at the forlorn figure of the abandoned corpse.

Rachel felt a small shiver along her spine, and she rubbed her hands along her olive-skinned arms, trying to return some warmth to her skin.

She'd seen Native burials before, but never like this. Never at the end of a murder.

Who was doing this, and why?

What sort of message were they trying to send?

She cast her gaze about on the ground, searching for anything she might have initially missed.

"Ground is relatively undisturbed," she said.

"You think he killed her somewhere else?"

"Possibly," Rachel murmured, giving a short nod. "But why did he leave her here?"

Ethan pointed up towards the higher plateau above where she'd found the footprints and ATV tracks. "Maybe he pushed her?"

"Then came down and posed?"

"Possible."

"Would mean it was a crime of passion… or at least, not nearly as staged as it seems."

Ethan crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed, and he rubbed at the fresh tattoo she'd spotted peeking out from under his sleeve.

The tattoo's sudden appearance still struck her as odd. Her partner had grown up in a large, homeschooled family, and yet he now faced the dangers of the harsher world at large with the same compassion he'd been taught. She didn't know how he did it… perhaps it weighed on him more than she realized, though. Maybe the ink was his way of addressing some of that danger, making it less alien to him. It was hard to guess anything before she got a good look at the tattoo, but it was hardly the time to stop and ask Ethan to roll up his sleeve.

Tattoo or no, he was still the same man she'd come to trust. The same grinning, empathetic person who took it upon himself to shoulder the emotions and suffering of everyone around him.

And yet it didn't buckle him under the weight of that pain. It propelled him to answers. This was something Rachel had always admired about him. But it wasn't the reason she hunted.

She hunted for the same reason that she always had.

The world was full of dangerous animals. And sometimes, predators had to be found and stopped.

"Go ahead and get the coroner here," she said bluntly. "Tell them we need an initial report—on scene if possible. We need it fast—by tonight."

"Where are we going until then?"

"The first victim's family," Rachel replied, tilting the brim of her hat to shield her eyes from the sun, casting the upper half of her face in shadow.

Ethan nodded, knowing the necessity of their next move. He pulled out his phone and made the call, his voice calm but urgent as he relayed the information to their superiors.

Rachel, meanwhile, took another photo of Jenna Amos' ID. Jenna was the second body found, but she must have been the first victim.

So why hadn't she been reported missing?

Why was no one looking for Ms. Amos?