Blood in the Ozarks

4. Hannah Riggley

We followed Sheriff Dinah through the thick woods, weaving a path that made complete sense to her but was roundabout to me. She babbled on about different wildlife in the area, pointing out various tracks and vegetation. However as she talked, I was searching for a different type of wildlife.

"You know you're not going to see anything out here in broad daylight with her so you should stop trying," Ortega continued his grade school antics.

"Be nice to the locals," I told him over my shoulder. "You never know when you'll need their help. Or at least a bar recommendation in your case."

"I'm nothin' but nice, Agent Ross."

I glanced back to give him a pointed stare, but he simply met my hard gaze with a grin laced with a sheen of faux innocence.

Despite there being no way we would see so much as a stray squirrel with the likes of Sheriff Dinah around, I couldn't stop my eyes from sweeping the areas as we walked. Being overly aware of my surroundings was a trait buried deep in me that I could no longer turn off.

"So anyway, I told that man that's a raccoon not a beaver!" The Sheriff cackled at her own joke I had somehow missed the beginning of.

I smiled politely as she waved to me to move ahead of her. We had made it to a more beaten down path, which I assumed was Beavers Bend by the reflective markers sectioning off the trail. Not that they were truly needed. The greenery and brush had been significantly beat down compared to where we had been moments ago.

Sheriff Dinah pointed with two fingers at a large pair of trees that almost appeared to become one at the top. "The body is right through those two oaks there. Poor girl wasn't but a few feet from the trail, but if a hiker hadn't come through with his dog we might never have found her."

I stepped past the Sheriff and crossed the beaten trail to the trees she'd pointed out. I'd seen dozens of bodies before, and probably some even more gruesome than what this one was described. However, my breath still hitched in my throat as I moved beyond the trees to see the yellow tape setup around the corpse of a young woman.

Before even reaching the trees, I could smell the body. That was never a good sign. I knew the victim had been found early that morning so either she'd been lying in the woods for a few days or I was about to witness something gruesome.

As much as I'd hoped for the former, beyond the trees was a river of red. Blood viscous like syrup trailed downhill toward the trail to meet us. We ducked under yellow tape around the area and gave the drying stream a wide berth as we walked further up the gentle incline. Despite being a smaller town the scene was filled with emergency responders. There probably wasn't a single county officer monitoring traffic, and more surprising somehow they'd even managed to wedge an ambulance through all the trees.

The blood trail ended with a petite woman laying at the base of one of the giant sycamore trees with her arms spread wide as if she were making a snow angel in the foliage. Her head lolled backward against a tangled ponytail as a protruding tree root caressed her neck and upper back. But most of these details registered with me in a delay.

The young woman's abdomen had been ripped open with such violence you couldn't look away. Bright red gashes ripping through clothing and flesh obscured your attention from anything else.

I shook my head for a moment trying to force my brain to reset and evaluate the full scene, but all my eyes could focus on was the gaping red hole no matter how many times I looked away.

A deputy handed me a pair of latex gloves, then handed a pair to Tommy. They all knew who we were even without an introduction. Which was probably good since Ortega no longer had a badge to show and was relying on my authorization alone.