“Hitting play…” I hovered my finger over the key, “…now.”
The first five minutes made me regret the one bite of muffin I had taken to mark it.
“I can’t see a thing.” Clay rubbed his stomach like the jumpy footage also made him queasy. “Too blurry.”
The agent wasn’t walking at a fast clip so much as he was sliding down the embankment, which made for a Tilt-A-Whirl ride for his viewers. Namely us. His arm steadied when his feet hit the flat bottom, and I got my first look at the untouched crime scene.
The camera panned a slow circle, taking in the surroundings, before the agent advanced to the creek. He paused there, stood on the bank, and filmed the three lifelike does posed on the rocky outcropping. One sat with her legs tucked under her. Another stood tall and proud at the peak. The last victim balanced on three legs while the fourth leg hovered over the water, as if she were about to jump.
A sleek crow, perched on the highest doe’s head, cawed for the camera before leaping into the sky.
The illusion was so convincing, had I come across this tableau on a hike, I would have frozen, breath held, for fear of spooking the deer.
The video progressed from there. The agent waded into the creek to film the rock from all angles and spent a long time on each doe to ensure no details were lost. When he finished, he backed onto the shore and ended the cut with another framed shot of the entirety of the killer’s handiwork.
“Who filmed this?” I queued it to play again. “He did a good job.”
“Billy Kidd.” Clay read off his screen. “Credits are at the very bottom.”
The word credits triggered a suspicion Billy might have been a film major in college.
“Nothing stood out to me.” Asa drummed his fingers. “What are we looking for?”
“Anything.” I was reminded of my conversation with Billy. “Kidd was hesitant to leave me alone at the scene after everyone else had headed back. He brought up a good point I should have considered sooner. That the killer would have been present when the first agent arrived to receive a critique of his work.”
“You’ve been out of the game.” Clay shrugged. “It’ll come back to you.”
“Kidd was right.” Asa grew a scowl. “We should have thought of it and ensured you had backup.”
“Rue is a badass.” Clay reached for his milk. “She didn’t need us babysitting her. It would have sent the wrong message to the other agents. It’s better that we let her to do her thing, as per usual. We were a holler away, so it’s not like she was in any real danger.”
Except a well-aimed curse would have reached me quicker than they could have, and they both knew it.
Still, I appreciated Clay’s usual thoughtfulness in helping me preserve the illusion of being all-powerful.
“The point is—” I waved a napkin as a white flag, “—the killer might be present in this footage.”
“Nothing stood out.” Asa leaned back in his chair. “We’ll send it back to the Kellies with your theory.”
They had the time, the tech, and the tenacity to ferret out any clues the killer might have left behind.
“That works.” Clay used a pinky to gently navigate his keyboard. “Looks like the Kellies are putting in OT on this one. Check your inboxes, lady and gent. We’ve got confirmation the same lumber company held the contract for all three crime scenes. There’s a list of truckers and machine operators, as well as other employees.”
“They did the crosschecking for us.” I grinned at that, half wishing I could hire the Kellies for minutia at Hollis Apothecary. “Looks like we’ve got a dozen employees present at all three scenes.” I checked their home addresses. “All male, all local.” I pulled up a map app on my phone. “We can hit maybe half these today. A few of the independent contractors have an hour-plus commute in their trucks.”
Not that it mattered if you drove a sleeper truck with a bed and other amenities for long-haul jobs.
“We can cut that number.” Asa rubbed a finger across his bottom lip. “Four employees are human.”
Supernaturals tended to stick to themselves or their own kind, but humans made good minions.
We couldn’t rule out human involvement until we had a firmer grasp on our black witch’s identity.
“Let’s keep them on the list but put them on the bottom.” I made notes of the residences nearest to our hotel. “Do we call ahead, or do we risk rolling up on an empty house?”
My gut told me the killer would welcome us into his home, serve us tea and cookies, and tell us anything that might help the case. Minus his confession, of course. He was starving for praise, not stupid. But there remained a slim chance he would bolt if he thought we were closing in on him.
“We risk it.” Asa checked with Clay. “We don’t want to tip off the killer.”