in her starting corner. Moving blindly and slowly, she cut across the floor. She extended her right foot, then her left, to feel for a trap door, or anything on the floor.
She was strong, smart and would fight, she told herself in the instant before her heart smashed against her chest and she froze.
Joleneâs foot had hit something.
Something that moaned.
17
G annon started walking along the waterâs edge.
It was close to 3:00 a.m., the area was deserted. Breezes fingered through the elm and maple trees. After nearly a hundred yards, he came to the hilly bend where the two women had made the discovery.
His flashlight captured a patch of shimmering yellow, a strip of flapping police tape knotted to a branch.
It beckoned him to the grim scene beyond. But he didnât move. He felt he was being watched. He swept his light beam up high through the trees.
A pair of eyes glowed back at him.
An owl hooted.
As Gannon took stock of the area, he moved his light lower toward the spot where theyâd found Bernice Hoganâs corpse.
Trees and branches obscured the reach of his light.
He proceeded.
He left the footpath, going deeper into the woods. Few people knew that the scene had been released earlier tonight, after it had been processed by the State Police Forensic Investigations Unit, dispatched from troop headquarters in Batavia five days ago.
Theyâd seized it for longer than usual.
Maybe theyâd had problems with this one?
Now the tape was gone and all barriers had been removed.
No one was here.
The burial site was some thirty yards from the footpath, along hills and valleys, amid a stand of maple and shrubs. It was a long shot that the women would have spotted it, but conditions and lighting must have been just right.
Or maybe the killer wanted it found? The area was popular with walkers, hikers, birdwatchers.
During his time on the crime beat, Gannon had studied the same textbooks detectives studied to pass their exams. And heâd researched and reported on enough homicides, and murder trials, to know the procedures of an investigation and the collection of evidence.
He knew that buried-body cases and outdoor crime scenes posed problems. Weather conditions can harm any trace evidence, blow it or wash it away. Animals can damage a body, or carry evidence far from a scene. The perimeter can be impossible to establish.
Still, the investigators would have been thorough. They would have gridded the area; would have done a lot of things, like look for tire impressions back at the parking lot, or foot impressions here.
As he walked, he raked his light over the ground in front of him, looking at the flattened trail that was likely used by investigators as the entry-exit path to the scene.
He found nothing else in the empty forest. The state police had not released details on the cause or location of Bernice Hoganâs death. Early rumors held that she was killed elsewhere and dumped near the creek. But later, Adell had told him that they believed she was murdered here, given the amount of blood that had soaked into the ground.
While Gannon continued, meticulously sweeping his light everywhere, he tried to imagine Bernice Hoganâs lastmoments. As he ascended a small rise, he inched his light forward untilâ Jesus, there it is .
The hole in the ground was about six-by-two feet and about three feet in depth, a rounded, cup-shaped withdrawal of soil clawed from the earth.
This was the work of the scene experts.
To the right of the hole lay a neat mound of fine, dark soil. To the left, a neat pile of branches and twigs. A few fragments of white string were present, likely used to section the site and screen soil excavated from and around the grave. All in keeping with the transfer theory, which arises from the fact that a killer will always leave, or take, some sort of trace evidence from a victim or a scene.
The area had been methodically cleaned by the unit.
Gusts hissed