Page 2

Chapter Two
Icy needlesof rain pricked his face as Ethan Manning cautiously descended the embankment above Nova Scotia’s Shubenacadie River. Nature had carved the slope steep. The downpour had slicked it to treacherous. Around midnight the heavens had opened up in a driving torrent that showed no signs of abating five hours later. That would also play hell with the evidence, a thought even moretroubling.
“Is there an easier way down?” Fellow Mountie Nyle Samuels’s voice sounded from abovehim.
“Well, I’m not going to carry you.” His booted foot slipped then, and Ethan swore, almost landing on his ass. He managed to right himself, barely, retaining his grip on his Maglite. Its beam stabbed ineffectually at the heavy cloak of pre-dawn darkness. Pinpoints of light clustered in a tight knot two hundred feet below. He just needed to focus on joining the others without breaking hisneck.
An avalanche of mud slid down behind him and Ethan nearly lost his balance again. “Dammit, move over a few feet. You’re right on top ofme.”
Nyle’s voice sounded again, this time nearer. “But if I go down at least you’ll break myfall.”
Ethan gave a grim smile, one that quickly flickered out as he drew closer to the riverbank. Angry rainclouds scudded across the dark sky like battling warheads. Snippets of conversation drifted from the cluster of law enforcement below. Canopies had been erected, surrounded by four LED spotlights, their combined glow forming a dim oasis of light in the curtain of rain. Reaching the bottom, he heard a muttered obscenity behind him and nimbly jumped aside to avoid being bowled over as Nyle slid and rolled the remaining distance down theslope.
He switched his beam to the other agent’s face. “I see you found theelevator.”
“Shit.” Nyle unfolded himself and stood, twisting around to gauge the damage. “I’m covered with mud, aren’tI?”
Ethan played his flashlight over the man’s navy rain poncho and pants, which were fully coated with the reddish-brown clay soil of the area. “Nah. Clean as awhistle.”
“Dammit.”
A figure peeled away from the tight group to approach them, flashlight in hand. “I’m Robert Treelor, RCMP, Halifax H division. You Manning andSamuels?”
Ethan’s credentials hung from a lanyard around his neck, and he lifted them for the man to inspect. “I’m Manning. What do youhave?”
His earlier flicker of humor had vanished, replaced by a sense of foreboding that had knotted his gut the moment the call had come in a few hours ago. The details that had been provided were compelling enough to have Ethan leaving the other three members of his team in New Brunswick and catching a red-eye flight to examine the scene. He was hoping this visit would be a wasted trip. But Treelor’s demeanor did little to lessen histrepidation.
“The body was found by a local fisherman. Constable Benton was first on the scene. He brought in provincial RCMP officer Shel Nolte.” The man nodded toward the cluster of figures standing in a tight group outside the tarp. “When he saw the condition of the corpse, Nolte rang up divisional headquarters, and we reached out to you. Helluva thing. Don’t mind saying I haven’t seen anything quite like it.” The slanting rain poured off the man’s slicker, forming a pool around his shoes. “The forensic identification unit investigators haven’t come up withmuch.”
One of the investigators, outfitted in a white boller suit, nitrile gloves and booties, was crouched on the riverbank. In this weather, with the number of people already around the scene, Ethan figured it’d take a miracle to come up with a shred of evidence they could use. “The medical examiner is with the body.” Treelor led the way, skirting a spotlight to make a wide arc around the sagging police tape that had been strung on three sides to form an innerperimeter.
The ground there was a muddy swamp that sucked at Ethan’s boots with every step. It was training rather than hope that’d had him shoving disposable shoe covers in his pocket before leaving the car. In all likelihood, there was no scene to worry about preserving. Nature had made sure ofthat.
He followed the officer to the farthest of three canopies where a trio of people squatted on a soggy tarp spread next to a body. All were clad in matching navy windbreakers with Medical Examiner emblazoned on the backs. Another forensic ident tech was photographing the body. The woman in the center sent a look over her shoulder. Her gray hair was plastered to her head and her glasses had tiny rivulets of moisture tracing down them. “Mary McFarland, Hants County Medical Examiner. I understand you’re from RCMP national headquarters. Does federal have an interest in thisvictim?”
“Remains to be seen,” Ethanreplied.
She made a nearly imperceptible gesture and the two assistants flanking her rose and parted to allow Ethan and Nyle to crouch beside the body. He noticed approvingly that the hands had already been bagged. Male, he ascertained at a glance. Dark hair. Forty to forty-five years old, just under six feet, one hundred eighty pounds. Two jagged bloody holes were all that remained of the eyes and the mouth had been sewn shut with what looked like black fishingline.
“Could still be copycat,” Nyle said in a lowtone.
“Guess we’ll find out at the autopsy.” Ethan slanted a look at the ME. “Any idea about what was used to remove theeyes?”
Some in her position were maddeningly reticent, unwilling to tender any opinions until the body was back at the lab. McFarland was more forthcoming. “Not a knife,” she said with certainty. “Something rounded that had beensharpened.”
“Christ,” Nyle muttered. “Like aspoon?”
“Possibly. Or a melon scooper. Did the trick.” The two Mounties exchanged a glance. “If I’m going to lose this case tell me now before I haul him back to my morgue. Your other victims missingeyes?”
“No.” Ethan’s gaze traveled lower, lingered on the neat vertical stitching of the lips. “But the same job was done on themouth.”
McFarland nodded and got to her feet. “Will you be using the ME in Burnside on theinvestigation?”
He nodded. It’d be most efficient to use the pathology building minutes away from the RCMP divisional headquarters inHalifax.
The woman reached inside her jacket for her cell. “I’ll give them a call and see how they want to handle thetransport.”
“Appreciateit.”