Sam hadn’t exactly blended into the crowd when they’d moved in, and Luke wasn’t sure how much had changed in the past year and a half.
He kept his police radio close at hand. He was always expected to be on call in case something happened. Luckily it almost never did. The worst thing he’d experienced was when Eric Landers got drunk and put a gun to his head. They didn’t have access to a crime team, so he’d used his old homicide skills to make sure they weren’t missing something. After examining the evidence, Dan Koenig and the ME had both ruled Eric’s death a suicide. There had only been one other death in his short tenure here, a hunter who had been shot by accident when he’d stayed out past dusk. Tragic, but not a homicide. The two events had created a lot of stir amongst the locals, providing gossip fuel for weeks.
Luke was glad there weren’t many crimes in Crystal Lake. It was one of the reasons he’d moved here. He’d hoped Sam would flourish in better surroundings. In a place where life was simple and there were fewer negative influences.
Please Lord, help guide Sam home. And help me to be patient with him. Help give me the strength and wisdom to know how to handle him. I’m asking You to watch over him, Lord. Amen.
Luke must have dozed, because his radio blaring next to him woke him up. “Sheriff? Sheriff? Do you read me?”
Night had fallen, and he reached for the radio, fumbling with the buttons. “Copy that. What’s up, Tony?”
“Found a dead body floating in the lake.”
Oh, boy. He had heard tourists who drank too much and fell out of their boats were not uncommon in the summer months in the area. And there was nothing worse than a floater. “Got an ID on the vic?”
“Yeah.” There was a small silence. “You’d better get out here, Sheriff. This girl is local and she didn’t die by accident.”
He shot to his feet, instantly wide awake, his gaze sharp in the moonlight. “What do you mean she didn’t die by accident?”
“She was murdered.” Tony’s voice sounded strained. “Strangled with a towrope before being dumped in the water.”
TWO
Megan had trouble falling asleep, and when she did she dreamed of Katie. Even though at some level Megan knew it was a dream, she still heard the sounds of a struggle as Katie fought her captor. Katie’s muffled cry somehow pierced her consciousness and she awoke, her heart pounding as if she’d been the one attacked instead of her sister.
If only she could go back, to the night Katie had been murdered. Maybe if she’d gone with her sister to the pub, Katie would still be alive today. Katie had asked her to go along to Flannigan’s, as she was planning to meet some new guy she’d met during her job in the college library, but Megan hadn’t gone with her because she had to work early the next morning. So she sent Katie off by herself.
Only to be woken hours later to investigate a crime scene. Never in a million years had she expected to find Katie as the victim.
Megan splashed cold water on her face and then crawled back into bed and tried to fall back asleep. But as much as she needed rest, she kept hearing sounds outside. Wildlife, no doubt. After so many years in the city, the sounds of the animals took some getting used to.
A loud pounding on her door startled her so badly she almost fell out of bed. For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming again, but no, the pounding continued. Then it stopped. Her imagination? Or reality? She hated not being sure.
Her cell phone rang and she grabbed it from her bedside table, staring at it apprehensively, not recognizing the number. When was the last time anyone had called her? Her friend from Chicago, Shana Dawson, had probably called once or twice, but it had been so long ago she honestly couldn’t remember. Hesitantly, she flipped open the phone. “Hello?”
“Megan? This is Sheriff Torretti. We need your help. I’m standing outside your door.”
Relief that she hadn’t imagined the pounding was quickly replaced by surprise that the sheriff had her cell number, and then replaced again by cold dread. She scrambled out of bed and grabbed her robe. “I’ll be right there.”
“Thank you.”
Why would the sheriff need her help? She cinched the robe tightly around her waist and flipped on the porch light so she could see through the front window to verify that it was, indeed, the sheriff out there, before she unlatched the dead bolt on the door. When she opened it, she realized the man standing on her doorstep was the same one she’d met earlier that day outside of Rose’s Cafe. She flushed. “Sheriff? What’s going on?”
He hesitated a moment. “There’s been a murder. I don’t have access to a crime team and I really need your expertise.”
Her first instinct was to refuse. She didn’t go on-site to investigate crime scenes any more. She’d given up her career after Katie’s death. These days, all she could manage was processing routine DNA samples. “Surely someone on your staff is qualified to gather evidence?”
He shook his head, his expression betraying his frustration. “In normal circumstances, yes, but we don’t get many murders here. I’ve already called the Madison crime lab. They’ll process our evidence of a serial killer, which they’d never believe considering we only have one victim. So as of right now, we’re on our own.”
She frowned, realizing he was right. Crime teams existed in big cities like Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles but not in small communities like Crystal Lake. Once she’d thrived on the details, the exactness of the work that helped piece a complex puzzle together. But since Katie’s death, she’d lost her edge.
“I’m retired from CSI work,” she protested weakly.
“Please?” She had the impression from the hard set to his jaw that he didn’t beg very often, and the worried concern she glimpsed in his gaze tugged at her in a way she couldn’t describe. “I’ll take your rusty skills over nothing.”
A murder. She shivered in the dark night. She’d always believed victims and their families deserved justice. Once she’d been at the top of her game, but not any longer. Yet could she honestly refuse to help?
No. She couldn’t. Ignoring the dread curled in her stomach, she nodded. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
She tried to smile as she closed the door, but her hands were shaking. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She brushed her teeth and then quickly donned a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt and her work boots before heading outside. Sheriff Torretti was waiting patiently beside his squad car.
“Where’s the body?” she asked.
“On the south shore of the lake. You can follow me,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
She did as he requested, and all too soon, she followed him to a place where several cop cars, red and blue lights flashing, were parked in front of a path leading down to the lake. Carrying her camera and a flashlight, she climbed from the car.
“This way.” Sheriff Torretti gestured toward the path.
She didn’t walk down the path right away, but swept her high-powered flashlight over the scene to see if she could pick out any clues. She saw nothing more than a few bent and broken branches, indicating that someone, most likely the cops, had been down this way. Using her camera, she took several pictures, just in case.
She continued making her way down to the lake, acutely aware of the sheriff following behind her. Despite her initial embarrassment at being with him, she had to admit his presence helped her to feel safe.
When she reached the clearing, she stopped and once again scanned the area with the flashlight. “Have your deputies been down here?”
“Yes.