She moved on to the picture of the third victim—also pulled from her Facebook page—standing in her hiking gear, her smiling face beaming at the camera.
They were all not that much younger than her. Tara was twenty-five and the victims ranged from twenty-one to twenty-three. Tara had been twenty-one when she graduated from college at John Jay, when her career truly began. It was the year when she joined the NYPD, working diligently until she reached the age of twenty-three and went to start her FBI training in Quantico.
Tara was from upstate New York, where farms were everywhere she turned, and it was during those years in New York City when she met John and became accustomed to city life, which made the transition to D.C. that much easier.
Twenty-one felt like the year that laid the foundation for the four years that followed, and it pained her that these victims would never be able to see what their futures held.
“So…where do you think we should start?” she finally asked Warren.
“I spoke to the sheriff before takeoff. We’ll meet him at the second crime scene. He mentioned he has something urgent he wants to show us.”
Tara nodded, wondering what it could be.
Both of them turned their attention back to the papers in front of them. Tara continued to read, but it was all information that Reinhardt had filled them in on. It was their job to find the rest.
Tara looked again out the window, watching the arm of the plane cut through the clouds, and she wondered who would do such a thing.
Were they random killings? She assumed so, given that they were hikers, not from the area. The case file stated that the third victim was from Maine, hiking southward, while the first two victims were from Pennsylvania, moving northward. They couldn’t have known each other. It was very unlikely. And where were the couple’s bodies? It was odd that a killer would take two of them and not the other. She assumed that the third victim was just the one that got away, but without other bodies, Tara knew this wasn’t going to be easy and at that thought, something else struck her mind. She turned to Warren.
“You said that you think this will be a tough case to crack…any reason in particular?”
He looked up.
“Well, the first two victims are missing, so no bodies. It’s a lot harder to find a connection when there aren’t bodies to compare. Less evidence.” He looked up toward the ceiling, pondering a thought. “This looks to me like random killings, which can also make a case more difficult.”
Tara turned back toward the window and looked down at the land below. Hearing Warren’s words made her feel a bit uneasy. A tough case to crack. She knew that some cases were more difficult, but hearing from an experienced agent that her first case might be challenging for him made her wonder if maybe she was in over her head.
What if they just couldn’t solve it? She pondered that thought as the plane flew closer to the crime scene.
Chapter Four
Tara watched the house come into view as Warren neared the end of the road and then put the car in park. They quickly stepped out of the car and Tara’s eyes were immediately drawn to the yellow evidence markers carefully placed upon the lawn, creating a visible line from the porch to the forest at the edge of the property.
She watched as two forensic photographers each bent down by a marker, took a few photos, and then moved to the next.
“Agent Warren?”
Tara turned her head sharply as a middle-aged officer approached. She could tell right away that the man was eager to see them. He walked briskly, with a hint of worry in his face.
“Glad you guys got here so quick,” he said.
His deep sunken eyes were heavy and bloodshot, making it known that it was already a long morning.
“I’m Sheriff Russo.” He shook Warren’s hand and then Tara’s. He then briskly turned on his heel. “You two come with me.”
They followed him across the lawn until they stood in front of the porch.
“After you guys take a look, we’ll need to remove the body right away,” the sheriff said as he stepped over the yellow tape.
Tara’s stomach dropped as her gaze slowly crept up the stairs to where a woman’s hiking boot stuck out just over the edge.
She immediately felt an instinctual sense of panic within her. It was a feeling she’d had many times before when seeing a dead body, and it never seemed to get easier despite what others told her. She swallowed and steadied her breathing before she moved up the stairs and stood with Warren, overlooking the body.
The woman lay face down, her long brown hair draped across the porch. Her right arm was outstretched in front of her, clenched in a tight fist by the base of the door. Her shirt was stained red, pierced by an arrow sticking up in the middle of her back. Her thigh was also covered in blood, and just below where her shorts ended Tara could see a hole in her leg where an arrow must’ve once been.
“Where’s the other arrow?” Warren asked as he sat on his heels, looking closely at each wound.
Tara admired his composure, and she followed his lead, bending down as well. The body was already letting off a stench and she stepped back slightly as it suddenly wafted into her nose.
The sheriff shrugged. “We don’t know,” he said. “She must’ve pulled it out at some point.”
“So you didn’t find it?”
Sheriff Russo shook his head. “We turned the woods upside down, but nothing.”
Warren stared in silence at the wound for a moment longer. “The killer probably took it,” he concluded.
Tara and the sheriff remained quiet and nodded
