Victim of Revenge (Deep Desires) by Liza Mitchell

Author:Liza Mitchell [Mitchell, Liza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Feather & Bleed Press
Published: 2019-11-11T16:00:00+00:00

Opening the file, she took out the first photograph—the one with the tree stump in the foreground—and walked around the circle, trying to determine where the picture had been taken. Maybe laying out the crime scene would jog her memory. That first photo was of a discarded, unsmoked cigarette, soggy from morning dew or a rainstorm. She set the photo on the ground where the original piece of evidence would have been found.

The next picture was of a shoe print. She clicked her tongue, her gaze bouncing between the photo and the clearing. There wasn’t much in the picture to judge where it would have been. Generally, after each piece of evidence had been marked with their yellow flags and photographed, the entire scene would be photographed as well. Conveniently, those pictures were missing.

A low hum came rumbling through the woods. A car engine? Who else would be coming out here right now? It was probably an ATV miles away. Sounds carried throughout the woods, and noises could be deceiving. Although, no one knew she was here. There was no telling when Sloane would check her voicemail, she’d purposely dodged Dawson when she left the courthouse, and she’d left Canter completely in the dark about the entire day.

Carey jogged over to her car and snatched her cell phone off the passenger seat. No service. Big fucking surprise.

Rationally speaking, if she ran into anyone out here, it would be some high school kids smoking weed, right? Right.

She went back to the picture. Circling the clearing. The physical evidence must have been a bitch because there was nothing really in these pictures. Some rope. More boot prints. A hoodie. That could not belong to their perp. There’s no way he’d leave something like that covered in his DNA at the scene. All right, this one was interesting. The soil was disturbed—signs of a struggle—and it looked like there were marks from a woman’s heel, like a stiletto.

The woods erupted in noise when a dozen birds shot up from the underbrush and took to the sky. Carey jumped, clutching the file to her chest. She stood frozen, waiting for more noise. Like the crunching of leaves that came from the woods behind her. She took two cautious steps toward her car. This is ridiculous. If someone was sneaking through the woods, she was definitely trapped by their car. She could drive forward into the field, but then she’d just be trapped in the field. Unless she could lure them into the open area in their car, then she could slip back down the two-track.

Maintaining her calm facade, her eyes flitted from her file to the fire pit as she made her way around the circle to her car. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Turning around and facing the spook would let them know she was aware of them—taking away the only advantage she had—and it would make them real, because right now they were just phantom noises in the woods.

As soon as she made it to her car, she reached behind her and opened the passenger door.

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