Page 10 of Tide and Seek (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #8)

Maxwell

Royce called the Malibu Lost Hills Sheriff’s Station to report the body, and soon emergency vehicles and cops swarmed the quiet beach.

The morning haze had thickened instead of burning off, and a thin mist now hovered along the shoreline, dulling the blue of the ocean to flat gray.

Yellow tape flapped weakly in the breeze, strung in a crooked line between two metal stakes.

Deputies moved quietly, methodically, around the rise of sand where the body lay.

The ME’s field investigator had arrived a few minutes ago and was now crouched beside the body, camera strap looped around his neck, latex-gloved fingers steady on the shutter. Click. Click. Click. The sound cut sharply through the slap of the waves against the sand.

I stood just beyond the yellow tape, arms crossed, my mind swirling with confusion and anxiety.

The idea that a murder had happened mere yards from my beach house was horrifying.

Ocean Whisper Estates wasn’t the sort of place where people were murdered, and of course it must have been a homicide.

People didn’t commit suicide and then bury themselves in the sand.

A few feet away, Royce spoke quietly with a young uniformed officer. His stance was easy, natural. Even here, a time zone away from home, he carried himself like the man in charge. I admired how calm he appeared because I felt the complete opposite as I watched the forensic team work.

Royce finished speaking to the officer and he returned to me. “You holding up okay, Max?”

“Yes.” I grimaced. “Considering the circumstances.”

Royce nodded, watching the crime scene techs work. “This is definitely a surprising twist to our vacation.”

“I’m in shock,” I muttered. “Why would someone think this was a good place to dump a body? Why not drive the corpse into the mountains and toss it down a ravine? That would’ve bought the killer more time.

Burying a body in a shallow grave in front of expensive beach homes, where it was bound to be discovered quickly, makes no sense. ”

“Unless the killer wanted the body to be found.”

I frowned. “But why risk that? The sooner the body is found, the more chance physical evidence or DNA might be discovered, right?”

“In theory, yeah.” He exhaled. “Most likely it was an accident and the killer panicked. The grave was shallow, which indicates a spur-of-the-moment type of thing.”

We watched in silence as the ME investigator and a tech set up a simple white tent over the body.

I suspected they were trying to shield the corpse from a drone I’d spotted earlier, buzzing like a fat metal fly high above us.

Word would travel fast about the body. A small group of looky-loos had already gathered down the beach.

A uniformed figure made his way down the narrow access path, shoes crunching softly against the packed sand. The deputy ducked under the tape without hesitation, moving forward confidently. As he neared, one of the other cops acknowledged him by name as Deputy Gonzalez.

He was a solid man, stocky more than lean, with close-cut dark hair and warm brown skin.

His square jaw and slightly crooked nose gave him the look of a former high school wrestler.

He pulled his sunglasses off as he approached.

The line of pale skin across his temples suggested he wore them a lot.

His eyes were dark and watchful but not unfriendly.

He had the gaze of a man used to reading people fast.

“Sheriff Callum?” he asked as he neared.

Royce nodded and held out his hand. “I take it you’re Deputy Gonzalez?”

“That’s right.” His voice was even and not overly formal.

Royce shifted his stance and nodded toward the tent. “Must be a challenge with her half-buried like that?”

“You can say that again.” Gonzalez exhaled, watching the forensics team work. “This type of scene is a bitch and a half. Sand’s a pain. You can’t rush it. It gets everywhere, and it won’t hold trace evidence like carpet or soil would.”

Royce’s brow furrowed slightly. “Hopefully you’ll still get something though. The grave was so shallow, it gives the impression the killing was impulsive. That could have made him or her sloppy.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Gonzalez shook his head faintly.

“Even so, the location is a nightmare. Sand doesn’t hold footprints for long.

Blood spatter doesn’t stay put. If there were fibers, they’re probably gone.

DNA? The ocean breeze does a number on that.

DNA, prints, trace… it’s all gone once the wind hits. DNA is so damn fragile.”

I frowned, moving to stand near Royce. “Not exactly.”

Both men glanced at me.

I shifted uneasily under their scrutiny. “DNA itself isn’t actually fragile,” I said. “That’s an oversimplification.”

Deputy Gonzalez lifted his dark brows. “Excuse me?”

Royce gave a nervous laugh. “Max is a doctor. He tends to be particular about the details.”

Gonzalez nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, right. You’re Dr. Thornton. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“That’s right.”

“So, you don’t agree DNA is fragile?” Gonzalez pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “Why not?”

“Because it isn’t,” I said matter-of-factly. “DNA itself is chemically stable. What degrades are the biological materials it’s in, like skin cells, hair, or fluids. Those get dispersed or broken down by wind, moisture, and exposure. But the DNA molecule isn’t destroyed by a breeze.”

Gonzalez seemed to consider my words. “Well, thanks for the science lesson, but either way, I’m not holding out much hope we’ll find usable DNA on the body.

” He grimaced. “I mean, we’ll do our best, of course.

They’ll excavate the scene like it’s an archaeological site, photograph everything, sift layer by layer. ”

Royce nodded. “I’m sure everyone will do their best.”

“Why would they pick this beach?” I glanced toward the white tent. “Even though this is a private beach, it’s got plenty of activity. Don’t most murderers prefer to hide the bodies where they won’t be found?”

“Usually, yeah.” Gonzalez’s expression was grim. “Maybe the perp doesn’t know the area. It’s possible they thought she’d be washed out to sea if the tide came in, and any evidence or DNA would be destroyed.”

“Could be,” Royce agreed. “But the body’s pretty far from the tide line.”

“That it is,” Gonzalez murmured. “Which supports my idea that the killer doesn’t know the area.”

I stared out at the ocean. “Why not just dump the body straight into the ocean? Why leave it here on the beach?”

“I have no idea,” Deputy Gonzalez said.

“Seems so careless to leave her hand sticking out of the sand,” I muttered.

Gonzalez shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t leave her hand exposed. Maybe a dog or some other animal dug her up.”

I shuddered at the idea of someone’s family pet making that gruesome discovery. “I suppose that’s grim but true.”

Royce glanced toward the highway in front of the colony. “Is Homicide here yet?”

Gonzalez shook his head. “Not yet. We called them as soon as we confirmed it wasn’t accidental. I mean, obviously this was no accident. She didn’t bury herself. They’re sending a team out from downtown.”

Royce nodded. “Long drive.”

“Yeah. Between traffic and paperwork, it’ll be a while. We’re holding the scene until they get here.” Gonzalez folded his arms loosely across his chest.

Royce nodded, watching as a tech gently sifted through the damp sand with a flat trowel. “I’m assuming you don’t get too many of these out here?”

Gonzalez gave a humorless snort. “No. Drunks. Beach fights. We get plenty of those. But a dead body at Ocean Whisper Estates? That’s new.”

I nodded in agreement. I’d certainly never heard of a murder anywhere near here. In town, possibly, but out here, no.

Royce cleared his throat. “I hate to be indelicate, but since we have you here, maybe you can fill us in on what you have so far concerning the break-in at Max’s beach house?”

Gonzalez’s smile was astute. “Save you a trip to the station?”

Royce grinned sheepishly. “Exactly.”

“Sure, I can fill you in on what we have.” Gonzalez tugged a small notepad from his breast pocket.

“To be honest,” he said, flipping through the pages, “I felt bad dragging you to the station. We don’t really have much to report.

We did the preliminary investigation of the break-in, but it was mostly a bust.”

“Was it?” Royce frowned.

“Unfortunately, yeah.” He pursed his lips, reading his notes. “The lock on the front door to the beach house had definitely been broken, but there were no prints.”

“Does that mean it probably wasn’t kids?” I asked. “If they wore gloves.”

“Could still have been kids.” Gonzalez shrugged. “Anyone who’s watched a few episodes of CSI would know to wear gloves.”

“True,” I acknowledged. “What about the security footage?”

Gonzalez scrunched his cheek. “Unfortunately, that didn’t prove helpful either.”

That struck me as odd. “But the security company said they saw someone inside my home.”

“Absolutely. There was definitely someone inside your home, Dr. Thornton. However, the footage merely showed what appeared to be a male wearing a ski mask. There were no tattoos or any distinguishing clues to help identify who the perpetrator was. He appeared to be average weight and maybe a little above average height. The perp could be anyone.”

“Damn,” Royce muttered. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah.” Gonzalez grimaced.

“Did you talk to the neighbors?” I asked, remembering James had said he hadn’t been interviewed.

Gonzalez said, “We tried.”

“You tried?” I scowled. “I’d hope you would do more than just try.”