Face of Fury (Zoe Prime #5) - Blake Pierce Page 0,23

cast her mind back to the crime scene photographs that had been in the file: contusions across the neck, a red line imprinted with a corded pattern. He had used some kind of rope or cord, not as harsh a material as twine, something strong enough to withstand his full force pulling back on her neck as he choked her to death with it.

Finally, he had taken her whole weight and dragged her, leaving two shallow lines in the soft shore where the points of her boots had disturbed the mud. Then he had laid her face-down in the water, just enough for it to catch at her hands, face, and upper torso. Not enough for the current to pull her away.

It was a deliberate act, Zoe thought. Measured. He wasn’t trying to hide the evidence when he put her in the water—wasn’t expecting her to wash away. He had placed her deliberately with the toes of those boots anchored in the soft mud, keeping her in place. She could see the deeper indentation, since disturbed, where the sheriff’s men had pulled Olive free.

So, why? What was the significance of the water? If it was about leaving her where she stood, then why would he bother to drag her forward to that precise place?

There was something here, something nagging at the corners of Zoe’s mind. If she could just see it—grasp hold of it—but nothing seemed to click. She looked at the scene again, moving her eyes in a practiced and logical grid pattern, left to right and up to down. Everything flashed out at her: the heights of the trees both as an absolute figure and as relative to one another; the number of leaves still clinging to some of their struggling branches; the number of rocks sticking out of the current and their precise locations in conjunction with one another. The flow of the river, how fast it moved, where it choked or flowed more quickly. The velocity of the wind as it stirred the branches and knocked down another seven leaves in one fell swoop.

There was too much here. Zoe was trying to see one thing, one clue, but the problem was that she could see it all. Everything, jumping out at her, crawling on every surface and even in the gaps between objects, telling her their distances and what that implied about root systems and available nutrients. It wasn’t all useful. It couldn’t be. But how was she supposed to narrow it down?

Zoe reached for the pack of antidepressants in her pocket, giving them a reassuring rattle before taking one out and popping it onto her tongue. She swallowed with practiced ease, staring around at the riverbank, waiting for something to happen.

She knew from the printed report that the police had already taken the time to talk to Olive Hanson’s family before Zoe and Flynn had even arrived in the state. There had been nothing particularly noteworthy about what they had said. It was just like Elara Vega. Hanson was an ordinary woman, without enemies or rivals, simply enjoying her own life in her own way. No conflicts with neighbors or estranged husbands, no sign of any trouble in her life, no change in her behavior. There was nothing there, not a single lead, and Zoe didn’t believe there would be anything to find.

So, why her? And why here?

Zoe’s cell phone rang in her pocket, startling her back to a more present moment. It was getting colder. She stepped back from the taped-off area, the tape flapping sharply in the wind as it hung from stakes pushed into the ground, and dug out the phone. The display told her that Dr. Applewhite was calling, and she hesitated.

She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not now, and not about anything personal. She had to solve this case—everything else was secondary. She hadn’t wanted to talk to her old mentor before, when she was simply sitting at home; now shouldn’t be any different.

Then again, Zoe thought back to all of the times in the past when Dr. Applewhite had helped her with her cases. Calmed her down. Made her see past the numbers, to understand the wood made up of the individual trees.

Maybe it would help again today.

“Hello?” Zoe said, answering the call before she could think better of it and change her mind again.

“Oh, Zoe!” Dr. Applewhite exclaimed, sighing as if in relief. “Where are you? I went to check in at your place and you weren’t