Page 62 of Devoted in Death

“Yes, ma’am, it would—and did—but not if you knew Little Mel. I don’t care how messed up he was, he never set a foot wrong on a trail or a track.”

“The cabin, the small amount of blood.” Mira crossed her legs, angled her head. “If, as the ruling determined, he had injured himself while rummaging through, there should have been more blood, not just a few drops in one location.”

“Agreed,” Eve said. “Did your sweepers run the lights?”

“Sweepers?”

“Your crime scene people.”

“Oh, yes, sir, they did. No sign there’d been blood cleaned up. And I can tell you, he wouldn’t’ve bothered.”

“None of the stolen items were recovered?” Santiago asked.

“There wasn’t much of real value taken. And not the sort of things that would raise a flag if you took them to a pawnshop or, hell, a flea market.”

Mira folded her hands as she examined the image of the victim. “Your medical examiner ruled those burns as self-inflicted.”

“Yes, ma’am. Either accidental or when he was high.”

“I strongly disagree, and believe our own ME will also.”

“I’m right pleased to hear that.”

“Morris and DeWinter will get a shot at these remains, and the remains of the suspected victim found in West Virginia,” Eve said.

“Your locals botched this one.” Santiago looked over at Banner. “The feebies, too. No offense.”

“Not a bit taken.”

“We speculate,” Eve began, “they worked as a team, had a routine on Little. Had the cabin, vacant at that time, he wandered in or by, they took him, used a tarp to catch blood and fluids, transported him to the high track, dumped him off and went on their way. The lack of the carved heart? They hadn’t started that flourish at this time. He was early on. Not the first, but early. So we work back from this point.”

“A lot back from there.” Carmichael frowned. “What got them started, that’s going to be key. What set them off? If they’re lovers, and that’s how it reads, maybe somebody—a parent, authority figure, a spouse—trying to keep them apart. Or somebody moves on one of them, and it goes south from there. The first kill, whoever, wherever, whyever, it’s what sparked it.”

She looked at Mira for confirmation.

“In my opinion, yes. That’s the break, the ‘spark,’ if you will.”

“I’ve got a few possibilities,” Banner told them. “Mostly I’ve been working forward from Little Mel, and beating my head against the FBI, but I’d started working back some. I’ve got three that are... well, just maybes right now.”

“Let’s see them.”

He looked at the unit Peabody used. “That’s a little more advanced than what I’ve worked with.”

“I’ll get them up. Doc code?”

“Ah, not a code so much. I filed them under MBM—Maybes Before Mel.”

“On it. I’ve got a cousin who lives in the Ozarks,” Peabody said as she worked. “A little place outside of Pigeon Run.”

“I know Pigeon Run. Pretty spot.”

“It is. I haven’t been there since I was about sixteen, but I remember. She and her man and their boys run a farmer’s market co-op.”

“Lydia Bench and Garth Foxx?”

Surprised, Peabody glanced around. “Well, yeah. You know them?”

“A little. My sister more. She hauls harvests down to them, and hauls stuff back at least once a month. It’s a small world no matter how big it gets.”