flesh. Another millimeter and she wouldn’t be here today.
“What story? Guy got desperate. Never get in close with a suspect with a knife, McKenzie. You’ll end up getting stuck.”
“I meant that you killed him.”
Ah.
“I’ve only killed when I had no other choice, McKenzie.” She was amazed at the coldness in her voice. Calm, dead, frigid. The air in the car was charged. McKenzie squirmed, realized he’d crossed some invisible line. She was just about to apologize when the car radio buzzed.
“Detective Jackson? This is Dispatch. Be advised, 10-64, possible 10-89, drowning, code two, Radnor Lake. Please respond.”
Taylor groaned and muttered a few choice expletives. She nodded at McKenzie, took the last Murfreesboro exit.
McKenzie keyed the mike. “10-4, Dispatch. We’re on our way. We’re just south of Murfreesboro, it will take a bit for us to get there. Out.”
Taylor dug her notebook out of her pocket and handed it to McKenzie. “Call the Coffee County Sheriff, his name is Simmons. Tell him we got pulled back to town. Tell him I’m sorry and I’ll get in touch with him later.”
Taylor was already back on the highway heading north. She put the flasher on and took advantage of the rest of the drivers scurrying out of her path to exceed the speed limit. Another murder. At the lake, the 10-89 was logical, but the code two meant there was something urgent about the call. She had to assume it was a murder. It never failed-they tended to pile up on one another. Though Radnor Lake-they didn’t get called there too often. She wondered what was going on, then contented herself with putting her foot on the gas.
At least this got them off the topic of her scar. She still wasn’t comfortable enough with McKenzie to talk about the terror she’d felt when she saw her own blood spilling down her chest. That insane moment of clarity between the cut and the pain. She knew she was dead. She should have been dead. She was damn lucky Baldwin had been there. His medical training saved her life. Always handy to be hanging out with a doctor during a chase.
She forced it from her mind. No sense going there.
They made it back up to Davidson County in twenty minutes, took the Bell Road exit, blew up Old Hickory to Granny White. Within minutes they’d plowed through the tony neighborhood surrounding the lake and turned right on Otter Creek. The entrance to the park was a half a mile up the road. Leafy green oak trees overhung the street, three red posts halted traffic into the preserve. There was a parking lot to her left. She pulled into it, joining the rest of the responding officers.
Several police cruisers were in the lot, lights off, which was strange. Tim Davis’s crime-scene van was parked by the entrance to the trailhead.
Taylor and McKenzie exited their vehicle. Taylor was struck by the verdant beauty of the surroundings, the quiet. All this ten miles from downtown Nashville.
Paula Simari was standing by her cruiser with a blond, white-faced park ranger. Max was in the backseat, straining against the window.
The ranger’s name tag read R. Kilkowski. A pair of oval-shaped brown plastic glasses rested on her impossibly small nose. When Taylor shook her hand, she noticed it was trembling.
“Simari. Ma’am. What’s happening? Why no flashers?”
“It disturbs the wildlife,” the ranger said. “We’ve had three bald eagles, two adults and a juvenile, in the park in the last week. We’ve canceled everything in the hopes that they might nest here. Officer Simari was kind enough to agree to try to limit the commotion.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. She knew how deadly serious the conservation efforts were at Radnor Lake. It was one of the only protected wildlife sanctuaries-a real biological ecosystem-near a major metropolitan city in the country. Radnor Lake consisted of twelve hundred acres of pristine lake, wildlife and walking trails. No biking or picnics were allowed-the fragile ecosystem was dependent on clean, quiet and calm. This was sure to rattle everyone’s, and every thing’s, cages.
The “Friends” of Radnor Lake were a veritable who’s who of Nashville’s elite, and they threw some serious cash behind the conservation efforts. The lake had started in 1913, as a water-filling depot and hunting area for the L amp;N Railroad Company and had morphed into a privately held, privately funded nature reserve. Taylor knew that a dead body wouldn’t be high on the board’s wish list.
Simari shook McKenzie’s hand, tapped Taylor on the shoulder. “Glad you got here so quickly. You’ve got to see this. Thought you might find some similarities to your Love Hill victim. Body is female, black, skinny as hell.”
Taylor felt the first bits of adrenaline crash through her system. She’d assumed this was a run-of-the-mill homicide. As if there was such a thing.
“Drowned?”
“I don’t know. You just need to see it, I don’t want to influence you.” Simari nodded to the ranger. “Lead the way.”
“Do I have to go back there?” Kilkowski asked, voice tremulous. Her eyes were wet behind the glasses.
Taylor reassured her. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to look. Just take us down the right path.” The girl nodded, started walking up the hill from the parking lot, stiff as a board. The three of them followed her.
Simari looked back to Taylor. “It’s damn quiet out here. I’m surprised this doesn’t happen more. No one around at night, the park’s closed.”
“Video?” McKenzie asked.
“Yes. They’re making us a copy. But their guards never saw anything suspicious, on the feed or on their foot patrol. We’ll have to go over the tapes minute by minute. There are no cameras pointing at this spot. Either he was smart or lucky.”
“Or knows the park,” McKenzie said.
They walked about fifty yards up the hill which Taylor knew led to the dam. They disturbed a murder of crows, who flew noisily into the air, then redistributed themselves among the branches to the side of the trail, cawing their displeasure. They watched as Taylor and her crew walked by. She wasn’t fond of crows; it was almost as if they knew her thoughts and were on guard against her.
They heard a distinct crashing sound and everyone jumped, then laughed nervously. There was a flash of white; Taylor assumed it was a deer. It took her heartbeat a moment to get back to its normal rhythm. She was on edge, just waiting for something unexpected to leap out at her.
There was a creek running under the stretch of road they were walking on. It was full, the water moving peacefully. The recent rainfalls had increased the water tables tremendously. Taylor looked down the lip and saw a snake gliding off into the water, its head high. Water moccasin, probably. As they moved through the woods, the crows’ echoing calls were quickly replaced by the pervasive silence. The lake was quiet, the stillness terrifically loud, filled with living creatures’ call signs.
Taylor remembered this stretch of the path. She’d been a part of the search for Perry March’s wife, Janet, the frantic days looking for her body stretching into weeks, months and eventually years. As a cadet, she’d been a lead on one of the search teams, had been on foot for days on end looking under brush and in the woods.
Janet’s body had never been found, but Perry March, after several years in Mexico claiming his innocence, had been extradited and stood trial. He’d been convicted after his father gave a confession that he helped get rid of Janet’s body. Taylor hoped he would rot in jail-he’d been the cause of heartache for half of Nashville for years. She’d always known he’d done it, too; his smug arrogance in thinking he’d gotten away with it was his downfall. It usually was for men like that.
The sun slipped behind a passel of clouds. A storm was brewing. Taylor started worrying about preserving evidence. They rounded a curve in the trail and the lake spilled out in front of them, rippling in the soft breeze. It was a stunning sight, beauty and horror commingled. Twenty feet to her right, Taylor could see Tim Davis picking his way down the opposite side of the path, a camera in his hand.
“The body isn’t in the lake?”
The ranger’s voice quivered. “No. She’s in Otter Creek itself.”
Taylor looked into the flowing creek. She could clearly see the object of Tim’s attentions-a body floated in the shallow water. A few people stood around watching, taking notes.
