“I’m not sure I’m getting the point you’re trying to make, except that a strong person did this.”
“What I’m saying is yes, you need a lot of force, but not a lot of strength. If you, Agent Kane, took an axe, wound up and swung as hard as you could, you would probably do the same damage we see here. The key is knowing you need to wind up.”
I smiled at Green, realizing what he was trying to tell me in his puzzling way. “This isn’t the first time our killer has swung an axe into a person’s chest.”
“It’s the only way he would know to wind up. A first-timer wouldn’t think to.”
Green’s observation told me one thing: I had a possible serial killer on my hands and my one-off homicide just blew up into a big deal. I thanked Green for his time, and he promised to update me on his findings but said he’d already told me “the juicy stuff, no pun intended.”
Before I exited the autopsy room, he stopped me. “Excuse me, Agent Kane.”
I looked back. “Yes?”
“Would you mind having dinner with me?”
With a question like that, I sort of expected him to stutter, or look away, or fidget with his pockets or pen, but he didn’t. He just stood there, totally relaxed with his eyes holding still on me.
For the second time in one day, Dr. Timothy Green had caught me off guard. He was a nice person but not the type of guy I normally found myself attracted to. Not that my track record with men is anything to brag about. I had to admit, though, his boldness impressed me. “Would you accept a cup of coffee instead?”
If I had disappointed him with that answer, he certainly didn’t show it. He only smiled and nodded before saying he would be in touch.
Chapter 8
While I had made decent progress that first day, I hadn’t anticipated that my victim might be connected to others. I had a lot of work ahead of me but I knew the drill. Boy, did I know the drill.
Initially, I had thought about calling it a day and heading home but decided otherwise after my visit with Green and dropping the laptop off at the bureau. It was nearing four in the afternoon. If I hurried, I could get a jump on the Golden Gate Bridge traffic. With sunset nearing eight, I would still have plenty of daylight to survey the crime scene.
One of the park rangers at Muir Woods had left a detailed map of where the body was found, but I wasn’t in the mood to play find-the-location. I put a call in to the ranger, and he said he would meet me at the park office near the entrance.
Forty minutes later, I was removing a duffel bag from the trunk of my vehicle when I heard a voice call out. “Agent!”
My head turned to the left, and a bearded man in a uniform about thirty yards away waved at me. He wore the standard, gray shirt and dark green pants with that all too familiar Smokey hat. He also had a smile that projected a good distance. I waved back and headed toward him. He waited with both hands on his hips.
“Thanks for meeting me.” I extended my hand. “I’m Agent Abby Kane.”
“It’s not a problem,” he said, giving me two prompt shakes. “I’m happy to help. I’m Elijah Finch, but you can call me Finch. Everyone around here does.”
“How did you know I was the agent?”
“You’re the only one wearing a suit. I have to say,” he motioned to my feet with his eyes, “I’m a little concerned about your lack of proper foot gear.”
I held up my duffel bag. “I always keep a change of clothes in the trunk in case something like this happens. If you have a place I could change quickly, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure thing. You can change at the office and leave your belongings there.”
Finch let a couple of eager tourists slip by us on their way to see the tallest living things on earth before moving forward.
“How late is the park open?” I asked as I followed.
“Well, daylight savings just went into effect, so we’re open until eight every night.”
“Do people normally stay so late?”
“Oh, yeah. The park is very popular. I’d say right now there are about a hundred people hiking along the main trail and thirty or so still on the outer trails.” He looked down at his watch. “They have three hours to get out, or they’re spending the night.”
“Is that allowed?”
“Camping and picnicking in the park aren’t allowed, but there are trails that go in and out of the park and lead to a few camping areas. Have you been here before?”
“I have, actually. I’ve brought my kids a few times, but we’ve always visited in the morning and only for a few hours.”
“That’s very typical for most visitors.”
He led me into the park’s office and pointed out the bathroom. There, I made my quick change into a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, cross trainers, and a hoodie.
“Be sure you use the bathroom while you’re in there,” I heard him call through the door. “It’ll take us about forty-five minutes to get to the location.”
Finch wasn’t kidding when he said forty-five minutes. The hike wasn’t hard, and it was scenic; I can’t say I didn’t enjoy looking at the tall redwoods. The woods smelled fresh and seemed untouched by mankind. I almost forgot why I was there. We approached a sign stating the trail was unsafe and hikers needed to turn around.
“What’s wrong with the trail?” I asked.
“Nothing. We were instructed to keep people from trampling through or near the crime scene during the investigation. We didn’t think draping the area with yellow tape was a great idea. An unsafe trail works better as a deterrent; people won’t think there’s something exciting to look at and sneak in for a peek. The location is up ahead and off to the left.”
We walked another thirty feet, and then Finch led me off the trail and around a large boulder. We traversed the uneven ground for about fifteen feet before we spilled into an open area. It was beautiful, perfect for a private picnic.
“I take it this isn’t part of the trail.”
“It’s not. She must have noticed it during her hike.”
“I wonder how many people know about this spot.”
“Not many. There is virtually no wear and tear on the ground.”
How on earth did Agent House stumble upon this place? I knew at some point I would need to hear the story straight from her. I scanned for anything unusual as I walked the area. I stopped when I came upon the area where the victim had died. The leaves on the ground were still stained with her blood. I noticed a few boot prints. There was no mention of them in House’s report, so I figured trampling law enforcement had left them.
I turned to Finch. “Did you see the body while it was still here?”
“I did.”
“What were your first impressions?”
“That it was a terrible thing to have happened to that young lady. Agent, I’ll be honest with you.” He shoved both hands into the back pockets of his trousers. “Dead bodies aren’t something we find around here. Even with the extensive hiking, the trails aren’t difficult and there are no dangers of falling off a cliff. The most we’ll encounter is a twisted ankle. I could splint the heck out of a limb better than I could solve a crime.”
I was beginning to understand the finger pointing, at least from the perspective of the Park Service.
“Do you think it’d be easy to kill someone on one of these back trails?”
“On a few of the trails, yes. But most of them have a good amount of traffic.”
“What about this one, Fern Creek?”
“It’s one of the many trails that can lead a person into and out of the park. Right where we’re standing is the edge of the park boundary. We have a couple of backdoors into the park. The Lost Trail is one of them. Keep following Fern Creek and you’ll run smack into that trail. She could have found her way in via that route. But to answer your question, yes, someone could have easily done this without being seen. This is a popular trail, but some days, there are only a handful of people on it, even on a weekend.”