he’ll do the evidence collecting. You might as well photograph the scene while you wait. I’ll hold the light.”
Spencer willed himself not to register what he was seeing as he photographed the area—roll after roll of black-and-white 35-millimeter film, backed up by a dozen Polaroid shots. The recording of a crime scene is a methodical process closely akin to archaeology in the precision of the measurements and the use of grid markings to measure off the area. The body was “twelve o’clock” on the site map. He began photographing the body, shooting clockwise around the scene, taking every angle, every degree of rotation, until he returned again to the starting point. When he had finished photographing the scene, Spencer went back to his notebook and began to sketch the scene—pinpointing the position of the bodies, the objects nearby, and so on. Investigators were taught to be thorough. He wasn’t much of an artist, but he was diligent.
It was just past three when the officer from the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation showed up. Spencer knew that he was a veteran investigator not so much by his age as by the way he approached the area. He introduced himself to Spencer and the doctor.
“Guess I’ll head on home,” said Alton Banner. “Office hours come mighty early. You know where to find me if you need anything. I’ll get a report typed up for you in the morning.”
Spencer thanked him. When he turned to explain the situation to the TBI man, he found the investigator already bending over the body of the young woman. “Oh my,” he said in a calm, conversational tone as he trained the beam of his flashlight across her upper body. “What haveyou got loose in your neck of the woods, Deputy?”
Spencer was startled by the question. Surely a bear couldn’t have done this? “We’re pretty sure they were killed by a human being, sir,” he said.
The investigator laughed. “Oh, it was a person, all right. I might be willing to debate you over how humanhe was, though, considering his handiwork. I hate to claim him as part of our species, but, yeah, he’s one of us, all right.”
He had brought a thermos of coffee, and he didn’t even turn away from the bodies while he poured it out and gulped down his first cupful. Then he set down the coffee and surveyed the scene again. “A hard day’s night,” he said with a sigh.
He signed in on the site log and glanced at Spencer’s sketches of the area. “It’ll do,” he remarked to no one in particular. Then he stood up and stretched. “Drink your coffee. Take your time. I’ll have to collect some samples, and then we’ll do the grid work together, okay?”
“Sure. Fine.”
“Have you identified the victims yet?”
“No. I was waiting for you.”
“Maybe we’ll turn up something on the grid work. They’re not local, are they? Look like trail bunnies to me.”
“Hikers. I think so, too,” said Spencer. “I don’t think they were killed because of who they were. I mean, not by anyone they knew.”
“Oh Lord, no,” said the TBI man. “Of course, we’re pissing in the wind at this early stage of the investigation, but in my far-from-humble opinion, this wasn’t a crime. It was a sport. To whoever did this,
I mean.” The crime scene photos were spread across Joe LeDonne’s desk, in the spotlight of his reading lamp, but he barely glanced at them. At the moment, a hamburger in greasy waxed paper was occupying the
one spot on the wooden surface not covered with photographs. “I’ve stared at those pictures until I can see them in my sleep,” he said. “If I got any these days, that is.” “I thought we’d have solved it by now,” said Martha, setting a cup of cold coffee down untasted.
“We’ve put out the word to the informers and talked to everybody within a mile of that field.” “The lab work will help.” “Only if we have someone’s blood type and DNA to compare it to.” “It’s a start.” “I was so tempted to tell Spencer about it when I took him the mail today, but he still looks awful. The
Harkryder case is really getting to him. I don’t think he’s sleeping much.” “You took him the mail? What about the newspaper?” Martha smiled. “I took him the Knoxville Journal. I told him I’d forgotten to bring the Record,and I’d
try to remember it next time. He doesn’t need anything else to worry about. Besides, there’s nothing he can