Jenna searched the area. “I guess when she saw the body she didn’t hang around.”
“No wonder. Now that’s just plain nasty.” Kane pulled up some ways from the cabin and stared out the window.
A shiver of horror crept over Jenna. She blinked at the sight before her and her mind refused to make sense of it. Sticking out of the chimney was a frozen naked torso. The killer had trimmed the sides of the body to make it fit neatly into the flue. On the head sat a red Santa hat with fur trim. Speechless, she stared at the macabre scene for some moments before the closing of Kane’s door dragged her back to action. She pulled off her warm gloves and slid on a pair of surgical ones in their place. In this weather, she and the others would suffer frostbite if they didn’t hurry. As she slid down from the seat, Wolfe came to her side and she turned to him. “How are you planning on getting up there?”
“Same way as the killer, I guess.” Wolfe’s sunglasses reflected the scene before him as he scanned the area. “I’d say he took the path up the side of the mountain and from the drag marks in the snow, he had a sled of some type and dragged it behind him. Let’s take a look.” He headed in long strides to where Kane and Rowley stared at the cabin.
“Morning, Sheriff.” Colt Webber, forensics kit in hand, touched his hat and followed Wolfe.
Jenna took a deep breath of the pristine mountain air and cold stung her lungs. She found it strange walking onto a crime scene without the usual smell of death, it made everything seem surreal, dreamlike. The cabin was well-loved and in excellent shape. Curtains of bright red and white gingham graced every window and a swing seat sat on the porch. Alongside, was a woodshed with an ax buried in an upturned stump as if the owner had just walked away. Everything apart from the body appeared untouched and normal. She noticed Emily beside her but couldn’t gauge her reaction with the wraparound sunglasses blocking her eyes. “You okay, Em?”
“Sure.” Emily turned to her. “He’s carved her like an ice sculpture. Everything inside is going to fall out when she thaws.” Her mouth turned down. “I bet Dad gives me the job of cleaning her up for the identification. What we need on the team is a mortician.”
“Maybe ask Mr. Weems to drop by.” Jenna watched her retreating back.
“Nah.” Emily turned and walked backward. “He likes them all stitched back together. This week the morgue is going to look like Frankenstein’s workshop.”
“Emily.” Wolfe spun around and dropping his glasses, gave his daughter a look to freeze Niagara Falls. “The death of a young woman is not a joke. If you plan to work with me, you’ll need to treat the victims with respect.”
“I do, Dad.” Emily’s back straightened. “I wasn’t being disrespectful. I was stating a fact. We have been reassembling the first victim and it was the easiest way of explaining it to Jenna is all.” She looked up at the frozen remains. “She looks the same type as the last victim. Dark hair, tattoos, earrings, and I’d say she’s under twenty. Both victims seem to match the others murdered by The Sculptor.” She looked at Kane. “Do you agree, Dave?”
“Maybe.” Kane’s attention was fixed on the body. “I think making a decision before an autopsy is a mistake but I do agree the hair color and tattoos are a match.”
“At least we won’t have to wait too long to know if this torso and the spare limbs belong together.” Wolfe peered over his sunglasses at Jenna. “I’ll do a DNA profile when I get back to the lab. You’ll have it before you leave this afternoon.”
“That would be great, thank you.” Jenna glanced around the scene. “Wolfe, I’ll take Rowley and we’ll do a recon of the area.”
“Sure. Webber, take a video of the scene.” Wolfe handed him a camera. “Emily, you take the stills. I want them from every direction, close-up and don’t forget the entire area around the cabin. Start over by the trail leading up the mountain.” He turned to look at Kane. “If you’ll come with me, we’ll try and get the remains down.”
“I’m glad I’m not doing Kane’s job.” Rowley walked beside Jenna. “I can see straight through to that poor woman’s lungs.”
Jenna glanced at him. “We have to stop this killer.” She looked around the vast forest, deadly beautiful, and sighed. “This is no out-of-towner. This maniac is living here right among us.”
Twenty-Five
It never ceased to amaze Preacher how fate played a part in his life. It was as if the things he needed arrived by simply thinking about them. He’d required a chimney to present his artwork and the next moment had overheard Mrs. Petersham mentioning a trip to her cabin in the forest to retrieve a suitcase filled with winter clothes, that she planned to donate to the homeless. The snowplow would clear the road for her trip, and right at that moment, fate had given him not only a place to present his work but the opportunity to make the news once the mayor’s wife had viewed it.
The snowplows ran to a schedule, for people to follow or avoid them, and it took him less than two minutes scrolling his phone for the information. Less time again to call about the extended road clearing and what roads were on the daily route. He smiled into the dazzling white surroundings. Dressed all in white, he blended into the background and from his perch hidden above the cabin, he could admire Delores. He’d used his own special technique to keep her eyes open. One drop of glue to each lid once life escaped her, had given him the wide-eyed effect he required. He wanted her to know where he’d left her, naked for all to see. She’d become his tribute to silence and each time he cut and formed her to his own design, the memory of her taunts faded. He wished he could get closer, just one more time, to see the dusting of snow covering her glistening flesh—each perfect flake a creation of nature.
A rush of excitement gripped him. They’d be here soon to search for a hint, any little clue to find and stop him but it would never happen. He hadn’t driven to the Petershams’ cabin—he wasn’t that stupid. He’d taken the main road to the parking lot alongside Bear Ridge about one hundred feet above it, and using a sled to carry Delores, had made his way down the mountain trail to the cabin. On leaving, he’d been careful not to leave his footprints behind, and if the sled hadn’t slid down the narrow trail after he’d removed her body, no one would have known he’d used a sled at all. Snow made it so easy to cover his tracks—a pine branch dragged behind him obscured even the deepest footprints and nature had done the rest.
Nothing came close to the thrill of someone almost discovering him. He’d been adding the final touches to his creation when he’d heard Mrs. Petersham’s SUV coming toward the cabin. She’d been early. She’d mentioned to a friend that she planned to leave at twelve to give the snowplow time to clear the road but had arrived just before twelve at the cabin. With no time to cover his tracks, he’d scrambled up the rock face, to hide and watch.
Preacher chuckled with glee at the memory. He’d been close enough to see her stare out the window, eyes wide and mouth gaping open in shock. Her gasp of fear had made his pulse race. In her hurry to leave, she’d fishtailed in the snow and scraped the side of her vehicle against the pines, scarring their majestic trunks. He’d waited for the sound of her engine to disappear into the distance and then gone back down and tidied up some. He’d brushed away his footprints and then made his way back up the mountain to his hideout to wait. The snow fell thick and fast obscuring his path as if he’d never been there. Only the mark cut into the ice from the sled would betray him but it gave little away. How many people in Black Rock Falls had sleds? Hundreds, maybe thousands. He swept his binoculars from left to right and listened for the sound of vehicles. They would come—they always came to admire his creations.