“Yeah, there’s this website called Murder Maps. You can type in the name of a murdered person and it gives directions on how to get to the crime scene.” Carson sounded as if he didn’t quite believe what he was saying.
“All that matters right now is you being able to get us to the actual murder scene.” Ronan would reckon with Murder Maps later.
It started to snow as Ronan pulled the Mustang into the parking lot of the Salem Towne Forest. “This brings back memories.”
“For us too,” Carson agreed. He’d been the one who’d driven Tennyson to this very spot on the night they’d almost been killed.
Ten rubbed the scar on his shoulder. “Okay, enough of our glory days. Let’s do this.” He pulled the seat forward for Carson and Cole to hop out of the car.
“We’re all here,” Fitzgibbon said as he joined the group. “Where to?”
“Straight ahead.” Carson pointed, and then took off with Cole at his side.
Ronan noticed Tennyson hanging back. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I wanted to be last so I could take everything in as we walk. We’ve been here so many times before, and I’ve never felt anything remotely connected to this case. I’m hoping that if I concentrate and take it slowly, something will pop.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be quiet and stay behind you.” There was no way Ronan was going to let his husband out of his sight in a creepy, snow-covered forest.
He kept his word, but for the way his boots crunched in the frozen snow. Ronan didn’t know how this little field trip was going to turn out, but what he did know was that he was freezing his ass off. According to a little research he’d done before lunch, the temperature the night of the murder was in the twenties. A late November snowstorm had left fourteen inches of snow on the ground, which hadn’t melted in the two weeks between the storm and the murder.
The conditions that night were much like they were today. Ronan thought back to the crime scene photos. Skye was dressed in jeans and a light parka. She was not wearing a hat, scarf, or gloves, like Ronan was now. The teenager must have been cold and getting colder by the minute since twenty percent of body heat escapes through the head.
“Here!” Carson shouted from up ahead.
Ten paused to look at Ronan. “What’s got you frowning?”
“I was walking through here thinking about the conditions of that night. It was ten degrees colder than it is now with about the same snow cover on the ground. Plus, Skye wasn’t dressed for prolonged exposure to the cold.”
“I noticed that too in the crime scene photos. The problem is we don’t know if she only planned on being outside for a few minutes or if she was a typical teenager who always left the house without a hat to mess up her hair or a scarf to hide her pretty face.” Tennyson looked exasperated.
Ronan snorted. “This is what we have to look forward to with our Little Miss. She won’t want to wear socks in the winter or lame hats and shit like that.”
“You’re going to love it, Ronan. Maybe even more so after this case.” Ten looked like he was going to enjoy every minute of it too.
“Let’s catch up with the others. I don’t want them to think we’re canoodling back here.”
Ten’s nose wrinkled. “I’ve never seen the point of sex in the woods. There’s never a comfortable way to do it with all the twigs, fallen pine needles, and voyeuristic woodland assholes watching.”
It was Ronan’s turn to laugh. “Voyeuristic woodland assholes? You think squirrels would line up to watch the two of us get down?”
“Uh, yeah, Ronan. With their beady little eyes and twitchy whiskers.”
“We’re going to discuss this later, when my laughter won’t echo through the pine trees.” Ronan had no idea Tennyson had something against squirrels. What he did agree with was that sex in the woods was for the birds.
“This is it,” Carson said when Ten and Ronan caught up with the group. “According to what we read online, the body was where I’m standing.”
“Do we even want to know how you know that?” Fitzgibbon asked.
“It was on the Murder Maps website.” Carson wore a sheepish look. “It gave the exact latitude and longitude coordinates and had an interactive crime scene where you could see the body from all angles.”
“Jesus,” Jude muttered. “Helpful for our investigation, but downright creepy for people who come here to stand in the spot where a teenager was brutally murdered in the dead of winter.”
The triumphant look on Carson’s face fell. He backed away from the murder site and made the sign of the cross.
“It’s okay, Carson,” Fitzgibbon set a hand on his shoulder. “We’re here for a reason. Anything you can sense in this spot could help us solve the crime.”
Carson nodded but still looked rattled.
Ronan stepped away from the crowd again to walk what seemed like a loop trail. When they’d entered this small clearing, it seemed they could have turned right or left, with both options bringing the birdwatcher or hiker right back to the same spot. As Ronan walked, he was still able to see Tennyson and the others. What he had to remember was this crime happened at night, which meant he wouldn’t have been able to see his friends, and neither would Skye. “Hey, Ten? Count to sixty and then start shouting my name until I shout back to you.”
“Okay!” Ten called back.
If Ronan had a rendezvous with someone else in the middle of the woods at night, the first thing he would have done was start shouting that person’s name, especially if their car was in the parking lot. Maybe even more so if it wasn’t.
He hurried around to what he assumed was the halfway point and waited for Tennyson’s calls. When they came, they were faint, but Ronan could hear his shouts. “I hear you.”
“What the hell was that about?” Ten asked when Ronan jogged back around to the group.
“The trail is a loop, and I wanted to see if the killer could have lain in wait.” Ronan knew now that was definitely an option.
“It’s a good theory, but with over a foot of snow on the ground, it would have been hard for the killer to sneak up on her. You heard how loudly the snow crunched under our boots.” Fitzgibbon looked frustrated.
“The snow in this area was all tamped down, remember all the boot prints in the crime scene photos? Whoever left them stomped down the snow as they walked.
Kevin shook his head but stayed quiet. Carson and the other psychics were standing in different spots with their eyes closed. Ten rested a hand against a tree. None of the psychics were wearing gloves.
Bowing his head, Ten stepped back from the tree. He made eye contact with Ronan and shook his head no. One by one, Cole, Carson, and Cope all did the same thing.
Ronan was afraid this would happen. “Don’t any of you feel bad,” Ronan said. “This crime took place over thirty years ago. It wasn’t likely there would still be some residue left, especially given the fact that Skye never haunted this spot.”
“Christ,” Cope laughed. “You sound like you’re a practicing medium. Not that I disagree with anything you said.”
“We feel like this is a wasted trip.” Cole straightened his hat and pulled his gloves back on.