The First Death (Columbia River, #4)(27)

But there hadn’t been much talk about the murdered women. Often the public seemed to simply accept that it happened: young women got killed. But the murder of a beloved, generous longtime community member got press. Evan didn’t like the unfairness of it, but it didn’t affect how he worked. Every case got his full attention.

Maybe the women will get more press with the news of a third death.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Evan said to Noelle with a grin. “If Hickson had been assigned, I’d have to wear earplugs.” The young detective never stopped talking.

“I promise not to talk about my cats’ litter box habits while you’re eating,” said Noelle. “Or give an in-depth rundown of every volleyball game I played in college.”

Detective Hickson had a three-month-old and would enthusiastically describe every exploding diaper and projectile vomit, ruining his colleagues’ lunches. Before the baby was born, he’d enjoyed reliving his college football games play by play with anyone unlucky enough to be nearby.

“He means well,” said Evan. “Just doesn’t know when to stop.”

“He’s a good guy,” agreed Noelle. “Has a lot of potential.” She pulled a chair closer to Evan’s desk, where she could see his computer. “I spent last evening reviewing what you have on the Ken Steward case so far. I really hope those bullets they dug out of the dirt give us a good lead. Anything new on him today?”

Evan gave her a recap of the Steward autopsy. “I just got his cell phone report from his carrier. Can you take care of that?”

“Absolutely. What else?”

“Waiting on forensic results from his computer. I still need to interview his first two wives, his cousin, and a couple of close friends. Maybe his stepkids.” He frowned.

“What is it?” asked Noelle.

“I keep coming back to his SUV.” He pulled up the registration for Ken’s Explorer. “Where’s his SUV? Someone took it. Are we looking at two suspects? It seems logical that someone drove the killer to the location. It was too remote to get to on foot.”

Noelle nodded, a furrow forming between her eyebrows. “What if the killer had ridden in on a bike? It could have been put in the back or on top of the Explorer.”

“Good point. I think there are mountain bike trails not too far from there. It would still be a long ride to get there from any town, though. Even if he was dropped off near the trails, we’re still looking at more than one suspect.”

“Assuming whoever dropped him off was involved. He could have asked an innocent friend to drop him off so he could go mountain biking.”

This was why he liked working with Noelle. Her sharp brain went in different directions from his, so they complemented each other well. Noelle Marshall was in her early forties, and Evan knew the outgoing, tall, blonde woman had been divorced twice, didn’t have kids, and had a huge circle of friends. Confidence surrounded Noelle, and she always strode with purpose. People made fun of the TV show CSI, claiming detectives and forensic specialists didn’t run around in high heels.

Noelle did.

One time when Noelle was investigating a break-in, she had run down a nineteen-year-old suspect and tackled him when the idiot returned to the scene. She’d been furious that the tackle had ruined a shoe. One of the deputies who’d witnessed her sprint had told Evan his wife claimed Noelle wore $500 heels.

Evan’s good suit didn’t cost that much.

He glanced at Noelle’s feet, noting the bright-blue sandals that she wore with her slacks had a moderate heel. “Can you go with me to talk to the forensic anthropologist at the river woman scene this afternoon?”

“I’ll make time. Is Victoria doing the excavation?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I like her. Takes crap from no one.” She grinned at Evan. “And yes, I’ll change my shoes before that hike. Clothes too.”

“I will too,” said Evan. “It’s going to be a hot one today. It’s a couple miles’ hike to the site and mostly uphill.”

“Then how did the body get there?” asked Noelle. “That’s a long way to carry deadweight.”

“She was killed there,” said Evan. “Lividity matched the position we found her in.” He remembered the deep color he’d seen on the victim’s back when he’d helped Dr. Lockhart roll the body. There had been a few blanched spots that lined up with large rocks that had pressed against her back. The description had also been noted in the preliminary autopsy report.

Noelle tapped her fingers on the desk as she thought, her large rings catching the light. “Did he come across her in the woods or convince her to go on a hike with him? Or force her into the woods?”

“One of those,” said Evan.

“He’d risk meeting other hikers who’d become suspicious if it appeared she was being forced,” said Noelle. “Is he overconfident?”

“I hope so,” answered Evan. “He’ll trip up and make a mistake somewhere.”

“Preferably a mistake before another victim.”

“Assuming these three cases are related.”

Noelle’s dark-blue gaze probed him. “You think they are.”

“My gut says they are, but I don’t have any physical evidence to back it up.”