Bombshell - Men of Sanctuary Series, Book Three Read Free Page A

shifted her stance. “Yeah, it’s him. Even with the scavenger damage, that’s him. His hair, his clothes, his old military ID in the front vest pocket. He mentioned a time or two that he still had all his own teeth, so Army dental records should do the trick. Or maybe DNA testing?” She turned to the M.E. “Right?”
    “The identification and autopsy will be complete, Abigail, not to worry. Mr.
    Smith’s death was probably accidental, considering where the body came to rest.
    Landing at the bottom of a hundred-foot rock face would account for the skull trauma and broken cervical vertebrae, but I certainly won’t rule anything out until I do the postmortem examination.
    “Can’t be certain until the bugs attached to the remains tell their stories, but he probably died the same day he went missing. Thankfully for us, he landed in the shadow of the cliff. With the temperatures dropping, the remains stayed cool enough to delay decomposition. Now, all of you need to skedaddle. Inspect your accident scene while I get to work on our victim.” The M.E. motioned for Jack to haul over the body bag.
    When they reached their vehicles, Abigail turned to Mac. “We have a problem.
    Or, rather, you have a problem, since this is your jurisdiction.”
    Mac cocked his head, raised an eyebrow. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
    “I found Smitty by following crow sign. They were circling overhead, which meant something died on the ground. That makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is that I didn’t find his Jeep.”
    “Really.”
    “Really. But I did find his hunting rifle and his fishing pole.”
    “So, what’s strange about that? They were missing from his cabin.”
    “Yeah, well, I would have expected the rifle and fishing gear to have fallen close to Smitty’s point of impact. Providing he slipped off the mossy edge of the rock face.”
    “Abigail, I already have a blasting headache. I’ve been chewing aspirin like Jujubes. Where are you going with this?”
    “Mac, work with me here. Smitty had his favorite fishing spots. His body is at least half a mile from the nearest water source. He’s nowhere near where he usually parked his Jeep when he fished, or even when he hunted. I’d run into him every few weeks, so I have a fairly good idea where his favorite sites were. No Jeep between here and there. As a matter of fact, no Jeep anywhere. Now check out the markers I laid down for his rifle, rod and creel, and backpack.”
    She pointed to an area about forty feet from the body, where several yellow plastic crime scene markers had been placed within a corral of crime scene tape.
    Mac was relieved to see that she’d secured the vital elements as soon as possible, but not surprised. O’Connell was a hell of an officer, even if she wasn’t one of his.
    She swept her arm in an arc, from the position of the body to the nearest of Smith’s belongings. “There’s no way those items should have landed so far from his body, if they went over the edge when he did. The ground is too soft for any serious bounce and ricochet effect. Animal activity could account for some movement of the backpack and creel, if they contained food or fish, but I’d hazard a guess that coyotes or foxes didn’t move his rifle or fishing pole.”
    He had a feeling his headache was about to get worse. “Shit. Anything else?”
    “Yeah. There are tire tracks near the top edge of the cliff. Then they disappear in the pine needle ground cover. Since his Jeep isn’t anywhere to be seen, I’d be making tire casts before the tracks are lost due to weather or animals tracking over them.
    “Care to make an educated hypothesis?”
    Abigail gave half a headshake. “Best guess? Either he flung them over the edge, then jumped to his death—highly unlikely—or his gear ended up being tossed over the edge after he was pushed. Or thrown.”
    Her blue eyes flashed. “Mac, I’m thinking our accident isn’t an accident.”
    “Damn it to bloody hell,