could see her opening her mouth to protest, so he shook his head sharply. “It might take some time for the team to get here, so meanwhile, Casey, I want you to bring me a couple of tarps, some plastic bins, and … oh, I don’t know, markers of some kind. Tent pegs or little flags. And tow a second boat over with you so I’ll have some transportation.”
Casey nodded. He was looking slightly green and seemed grateful for the chance to escape back down to his boat. Amanda, on the other hand, was standing in the path expectantly.
“What?” he said. “What are you waiting for?”
“The photos. And if I’m going to email them to Sergeant Poker-Ass, I’ll need your phone.”
His eyes met hers. Such an idiot, he thought, and forced a sheepish laugh. “I knew that.”
A ghost of a smile curved her lips. “And I’d like Poker-Ass’s real name and number. Calling him Poker-Ass, however tempting, probably won’t get me very far.”
“Sergeant Amis.” He fished in his pocket for the man’s card and entered the phone number in his phone. Then he circled the body and took a couple of dozen photos with the phone. Still photographing, he headed back down the path, searching the ground and underbrush for evidence. He knew the evidence had probably been trampled by the dog and the three of them, but he took photos of stains and gouges anyway. The forensics team could decide for themselves if they were of any use. Amanda watched him curiously but without comment.
At the cabin door, he signalled to her to stay outside while he inspected the interior once again. It looked as if the attack had taken place in the main room, where the attacker had dropped the axe. Had the killer simply left Stink to crawl for help with his last dying efforts? Or had Stink been trying to escape from him when he headed up the path into the bush? If he’d been crawling for help, he’d gone in the wrong direction.
Amanda poked her head through the open doorway, averting her eyes from the axe. “Can you tell where the killer went?”
“It’s probably safe to assume he took Stink’s boat. You should tell the police that too.”
“I’d rather stay with you.”
She looked determined, but the faint quaver in her voice betrayed her. He shook his head.
“I can help, Chris. Kaylee might be able to help too. Remember, if it weren’t for her, we’d never have known there was anything wrong, and we’d never have found Stink.”
“You can’t stay. This is a crime scene.”
“But we’ve already tromped all over it.”
He straightened to confront her. “You know why.”
Her gaze wavered and she looked away. “There were two boats, so two different people. Only one is the killer.”
“Unless that debris we saw yesterday was the second boat. If he swamped that one …”
“He didn’t do this. I know him.”
“When it comes to crimes, we can’t assume a thing.”
“I can. Phil would never, ever, swing an axe at another man’s head.”
He walked over to her. He wanted to touch her, to reassure her, but he merely looked down at her. “I’m as worried as you are. But Stink’s boat is gone, and Phil was last seen coming this way.”
Amanda tamped down her anger and forced herself to be charming. She knew her emotion had more to do with Stink’s death and her own fears than with the prissy little Mountie on the other end of the phone. There is no bureaucracy more officious and obstructive than those in developing countries, and she had learned not to be deterred by the initial no. Or the second, or even the third. She could tell from the major crimes investigator’s initial condescending comments that she was going to have to put all those skills to use again.
At first Sergeant Amis had instructed her to report the death through official channels, which meant the Roddickton detachment responsible for that location, so that they could initiate the proper procedure. If the death is deemed suspicious —
“Most of his head is missing!” she wanted to shout. “They’ll be calling you soon enough!” But she held her tongue. She had reached Amis at the St. Anthony RCMP detachment, where he was presumably still working on the body recovered from the ocean. He sounded harried and tired, no doubt not thrilled with the prospect of rushing off to an even more remote death before the paperwork was even filed on the first.
“He was to be my next call, Sergeant,” she replied breezily. “But Corporal Tymko took some photos which your investigators will need, and I thought it expeditious to forward them directly to you.”
“Miss Doucette, without the proper chain of custody, any evidence —”
“Well, that’s why I thought I should go straight to you, so the photos don’t go bouncing around in cyberspace for hours — maybe even days — before they get to you.”
“But they’re of no use to us. Our investigators will take proper pictures.”
“Of course. But the body is in a remote location accessible only by boat. Corporal Tymko is doing his best to follow procedure, but he’s worried the evidence will disappear. There are wild animals, not to mention possible rain. At least these photos can show you how the body looked when we found it.”
There was a pause. A sigh. Amanda looked out the window of Casey’s house. The main wharf was buzzing with activity as the whole town pitched in to collect Chris’s supplies. Tarps, food, and clothing, fishing and hunting gear, as if Chris would be out there for a month.
“Please forward the photos to me,” Amis said finally, still sounding as if the whole exercise was an imposition that derailed his whole investigative strategy. “Advise Corporal Tymko not to disturb the scene and to expect a team’s arrival by early tomorrow.”
She was being dismissed with a flick of the hand. She was still smarting from Chris’s refusal to let her stay, and the sergeant’s pompous condescension, not only toward her, but also toward Chris, was almost the last straw. She forced herself to sound neutral, even through clenched teeth.
“I believe Corporal Tymko knows not to disturb the scene,” she said. “What about the medical examiner?”
“Roddickton will take care of that.”
In fact, the doctor in Roddickton had already been called and should be arriving within the hour, but Amanda chose not to mention that. Childish, probably, but the small exercise in power felt good.
The investigator seemed remarkably uninterested in any other information she had to offer, such as the bloody axe, so she hung up, stuck her tongue out at the phone, and dialled the next number on her list. She was not worried about this one; she knew cheerful, chatty Corporal Willington would be a breath of fresh air. Now she wished she’d phoned him in the first place.
He told her that Dr. Iannucci had already informed him and he was picking her up in ten minutes.
“I’m sorry,” Amanda said. “I should have phoned you right away instead of phoning the major crimes guy. I thought it would speed things up, but …”
