“Indoor glass-enclosed pools,” Vail said, looking out at the gray Pacific. “Must’ve had a magnificent ocean view.”
“I’m sure that’s why it was such a huge hit. Come on.”
They continued down the path. To their right, a large brown and white sign read
CAUTION
CLIFF AND SURF AREA
EXTREMELY DANGEROUS
People have been swept from the rocks and drowned
“Good to know,” Vail quipped. “Watch out for giant, man-eating waves.”
“It’s no joke,” Friedberg said as they passed the warning placard tunnel. “Over thirty ships have been pounded to smithereens against those rocks below us.”
“Looks like we found our crime scene.” Burden gestured to an area at the end of their path, where an SFPD officer stood guard. “By that hole in the rock face.”
“And what is that hole in the rock face?” Vail asked.
Burden shrugged.
“Beats me,” Friedberg said. “I’ve only been here once, for dinner. I read about the Sutro Baths in the gift shop.”
“And here I thought you were a scholar, a historian to be taken seriously.”
“As a matter of fact-”
“Please,” Burden said. “Don’t get him started on that.”
As they reached the bottom of the path, another brown Caution sign rose from the scattered boulders, warning people of the dangers of falling off the cliffs and into the ocean.
The ruins were now directly off to their left. A pelican was perched on a former wall of the structure; a photographer with a long lens was creeping up, a step at a time, attempting to capture the shot that would add polish to his portfolio.
The wind was appreciably firmer down at the ocean’s edge, and Vail wrapped her arms across her chest.
“What’ve you got for us?” Burden asked the officer, who stood at the mouth of a fairly regular opening in the cliffside, roughened edges encircling its periphery.
“Body’s in there,” the cop said. “Got a call from a tourist. Kind of hard to figure out what he said-dispatch said he was from Denmark, I think-but he was pretty upset. Something about a body that wasn’t moving.”
“Is he still around?” Friedberg asked.
“We got here, no one knew anything about him. And he’s not answering his cell.”
“Okay,” Burden said. “Where’s our victim?”
“Inside, all the way down.”
“Down where?” Vail asked, squinting into the darkness.
“It’s a tunnel. He’s at the end. Any of you have a flashlight?”
Vail fished a small LED keychain light from a pocket.
“That’s useless in there. Take mine. Be careful, the terrain’s a little rough.”
The upper three quarters of the rock facing surrounding the tunnel’s mouth was a creamy, rose-colored tint; the bottom portion was gray and appeared to have layers etched in its surface, like the rings of a tree. A few feet beyond the opening, the walls were black.
Vail suffered from claustrophobia, but it was inconsistent: sometimes she had little difficulty with enclosed places, while on other occasions merely getting in an elevator would fill her with consuming anxiety. She had developed the condition after a recent case that left her in the custody of a killer who traumatized her in a confined space.
Vail took the flashlight and switched it on. The roughened walls and ceiling of the tunnel, which appeared to be about eight feet high, stared back at them. I can do this. “Shall we?”
Vail led the way, her shoes crunching on the course, compacted sand. The ground seemed to slope away from her, undulating into the distance as far as the light carried. So far, so good. Approximately seventy-five feet away, a semicircle of light blasted through the opening from the tunnel’s opposing end. An object appeared to be silhouetted against the glare.
“Is that-” She swung back over her shoulder. “Hey! Officer. Is that our guy down at the end?”
The man bent over and peered in. “That’s him,” he said, his voice reverberating off the walls. “He’s tied up against something.”
“That would fit,” Burden said.
Vail moved further in. A few steps later, smashing ocean waves echoed somewhere off to their left. The hand-smoothed sheen of a metal railing caught her light beam. They stopped and listened: a sliver of light followed the water into the cave, a tributary that ran below them and perpendicular to the tunnel’s main trunk. Vail crouched and looked into the crevasse.
With her flashlight, she followed the water to an area just below them. “High tide, I’m sure the ocean floods this tunnel. We’d better get to that body. CSI on the way?”
“He was dispatched same time we were called,” Friedberg said. “Should be here soon.”
They walked toward the open end, where, against the gray light of the sky, a shape that resembled the body of a man stared back at them. As they approached, Vail shined the beam on something to the right of the corpse. The reflective coating on a brown Caution sign, similar to the one they had seen earlier on the trail, lit up brightly: End of Trail.
As if the cable, the abrupt end of the tunnel, and huge boulders ahead weren’t clues enough.
Friedberg rested his hands on both knees to examine the left portion of the body. “Can I get some light?”
Vail complied, illuminating the area.
“Fishing line again. Vic’s fastened to the cables that are holding up the sign. But…” Friedberg craned his neck and peeked behind the man. “He’s strapped to a two-by-four.” He stepped back and gestured with a hand. “Take a look. It runs vertically, from head to toe. It’s secured to the two cables that run horizontally across the cave opening.”
Burden surveyed the setup. “He needed that two-by-four to keep the body upright.”
“And that board isn’t from around here,” Vail said. “That much is obvious. Meaning our UNSUB planned this. I mean, we knew that already-but this is pretty definitive. It supports what I said back at your station. Organization, planning. He brought the tools he needed with him. And apparently
