pointed to a small structure just to the right.
“That’s the guest shed where Rick Sanders was found.” She fell into step next to him as they approached the building where a cheerful hand-painted Welcome sign hung over the door.
They stepped inside to the tinkle of a little bell, and even though he’d been in the shed at least twenty times since the night that Rick’s body had been found, his gaze took everything in as if it was the very first time he’d been inside the small building.
A bifold door to the left hid a stackable washer and dryer. A round table and chairs to the right invited the guests to sit and relax. Beyond that was another closed door that led to a small storage room.
A counter held a fancy coffeemaker with a carousel of little flavored coffees, and beneath the counter, a glass-doored refrigerator displayed a variety of sodas and bottled water for the guests to enjoy at no cost.
“What a nice idea for the people staying here,” Jordon said.
Gabriel nodded, although his head filled with the vision of Rick Sanders dead on the floor, his back riddled with stab wounds. “He never saw what was coming. It appeared that he was standing in front of the coffeemaker waiting for a hot chocolate when he was attacked from behind.”
She looked up at the bell hanging over the doorway. “He didn’t hear it coming?”
“The bell wasn’t hung there until after his murder,” Gabriel explained. He watched Jordon closely as her narrowed gaze once again swept the room. He couldn’t help but notice the long length of her dark eyelashes and the slightly pouty fullness of her lips.
She opened the door to the storage room, where Gabriel knew the space held only cases of soda, boxes of the little coffee pods, paper napkins and other supplies.
“Okay,” she said and gazed at him with eyes that gave away nothing.
“See anything me and my men might have missed?”
“Yes. In fact, I think I’ve solved the case. It was Colonel Mustard in the library with a wrench,” she replied flippantly. He stared at her in stunned surprise. “Where to next?” she asked before he could even begin to formulate a response.
They exited the guest shed and he led her down a path that would eventually take them to the place where Samantha Kent’s body had been found.
“There’s about seven acres of trails here,” he said.
“Good grief. I hope we aren’t walking them all now.” She pulled her coat collar closer around her slender neck. “I hate this weather. I’ve got a date with a beach in Florida at the end of next week and I can’t wait to get in a bathing suit and enjoy a fruity, fun alcoholic beverage.”
“Then I guess you’ll need to hurry to solve this case in time to get to the beach,” he replied. He took another couple of steps then halted when he realized she wasn’t with him.
He turned around. She stood stock-still, her green eyes narrowed as if he was a puzzling crime scene she was analyzing. “Are you normally a jerk or are you just acting like one especially for me?”
Despite the cold air, a wave of warmth filled his cheeks. “No, I’m not normally a jerk,” he replied. He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “But I guess I have been acting like one since you arrived and I apologize.” He had to admit to himself that he’d been a bit antagonistic with her. It wasn’t her fault she was here. She was just doing her job like he was trying to do his.
“Apology accepted,” she said easily and grinned. “Can I expect more jerk from you or are you over it now?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “It’s not you personally.”
Her grin widened. “Trust me, I didn’t think it was about me personally. You haven’t known me long enough to have attitude with me, although I’m sure if I’m here for a few more days that will eventually come.”
He gazed at her curiously. “Why? Are you difficult to work with?”
“I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.” Her smile fell and she wrapped her arms around her chest. “Look, I get it that you probably aren’t happy about FBI presence here. But I am here, and we might as well try to work together to solve these murders. Now, can we get on with this? I’m freezing my tush off.”
And a fine tush it was, Gabriel thought as they continued walking on the narrow trail. Within minutes they were at the spot where Samantha Kent’s body had been found.
“The trees were still fairly full of leaves when she was killed,” he said. “Although you can see the cabins from here now, they weren’t visible at the time of the murder.”
Once again Jordon silently surveyed the scene. “She didn’t scream or cry out for help? Nobody heard anything?”
“Nobody admitted to hearing anything. She was attacked from behind like Rick. She didn’t have a single defensive wound and Billy didn’t see or hear anyone else in the woods when he found her.” The frustration of the cases burned in his stomach as once again his mind provided a memory of this particular crime scene.
Samantha had already been carried away to the hospital by the time Gabriel had arrived on scene, but her blood had stained the autumn leaves where she had fallen, transforming this piece of beautiful woods to a place of haunting, violent death.
“I’ve seen enough,” Jordon said softly.
They were both silent as he led her to unit number three, where Sandy Peters had been found stabbed in her bed.
“Wow. Nice room,” Jordon said after they’d stomped the snow off their boots and stepped inside. They both had donned gloves and bootees, as the room was still officially a crime scene.
“All the rooms are this nice,” he replied. He stood by the door as Jordon wandered the area.
A king-size log bed was the center focal point, along with a stone fireplace and a sunken Jacuzzi tub for two. The bed had been stripped down to the mattress, but Sandy’s suitcase was still open on one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, and a thick pink robe still hung on a coat tree next to the dresser.
He’d kept things intact in the room as much as possible for Jordon’s perusal, although his men had already taken Sandy’s cell phone and computer and the bedclothes into evidence. The room had been gone over with a fine-tooth comb and fingerprinted, so this evening he’d have some of his men clear the rest of Sandy’s things from the room.
Jordon disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and then reappeared and stared at the tub, where a little basket held packets of bubble bath and two wineglasses with a bottle of white wine perched on the tile.
“There was obviously not a struggle.” It was a statement of fact rather than a question.
“And the door wasn’t forced,” he replied. “It appears that she opened the door and was immediately stabbed. She fell backward to the bed and the attack continued there. She was stabbed a total of twelve times.”
A frown danced across Jordon’s features. “Overkill... That indicates a rage.”
He
