A blue sky hung over the Adams County Park, where the trees were still full and burning a bright red. Police tape quarantined off a small section near the back of the park, along the tree line, which lead to a few acres of thick woods.
Carter and Dart examined the body of Samantha Weber. She was propped up against a tree, and secured to it by rusty barbwire. Blood had drained out of lacerations on her face, neck, chest and arms – more than likely from the wire. The part which was confusing, however, was the muddy prints all over her white shirt.
Forensic officers snapped dozens of pictures before they let Carter and Dart get a closer look. They knelt down next to the body, where Samantha’s eyes remained opened.
“Mud,” Carter said.
“Like Noah Swan’s home,” Dart added.
“Like the empty grave.” Carter rubbed his temples. “I really didn’t think this was going to happen again.”
“Well, it is,” Dart stated, brushing away a foul odor that surrounded them. “What the heck is that smell?”
“I’m not sure. Have someone check the area,” Carter instructed before glancing down at Samantha’s left pant leg. Something caught his eye.
“Gentlemen,” a voice startled Carter from behind, and he stood up. Agent Spencer Holland stood before the Sheriff and his Deputy.
“Agent,” Carter said, nodding his head in a friendly, but forced manner.
“Looks like you were wrong, Carter. Two bodies in the first week of October - it appears that your town is cursed,” Holland inappropriately joked.
“It’s nothing that we can’t solve. We’re more experienced this time around. We know what to expect,” Carter said.
“You do? What, then?” Holland asked.
Carter hesitated for a moment, and then Holland continued: “You know nothing. Should I call some buddies down from Portland? We can handle this.”
“I don’t think Mayor Hopkins would like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“He needs us to solve this for his political career. You’re just here to lend a hand. You probably won’t even get credit for your work here.”
Holland stared at Carter. “Well, if you guys are going to be the ones to solve this, you better plan to step it up from last year. You investigation was a riot.”
Holland grinned as Carter stood there and took it.
“You’re going to have to either take a different – better – approach,” Holland said, “Or just get lucky.”
Carter smiled. “Well, we might have more to go on this time around.”
“Like what?”
“Like the autograph on her pant leg.” Carter pointed to Samantha’s left pant leg. There appeared to be a very sloppy signature scribbled on it with red ink.
Holland squinted and knelt down next to it. He examined it, as did Dart. Dart looked up and smiled at Carter. “A clue.”
“Heck yeah a clue,” Carter said, unprofessionally excited. Carter grabbed the nearest forensics officer. “I’m going to need this portion of her pants,” he said, showing the officer.
“Yes, sir,” The young officer responded.
Holland stood up. “Well, if that is the killer’s signature…”
“We need to review pictures from Noah Swan’s murder,” Carter said to Dart, interrupting the Federal agent. “The killer may have left his signature there as well – we might have overlooked it.”
Holland couldn’t believe the treatment he was getting. He looked at Carter and his Deputy, turned, and left. Dart smiled and patted Carter on the shoulder.
“I don’t need the FBI to do my job,” Carter said. “Let’s get moving.