Chapter 9

I began trudging into the woods with my kit inside a messenger bag.

I let my gaze flit over the area for any evidences of recent activities, like a candy wrapper, a bottle of water and so on.

I had left my car parked a few yards away and decided to go on foot to my destination. I wouldn't want to make the mistake of announcing my presence if there were people inside the said cabin in the woods.

The trail I followed was dry, so I found no traces of footprints, except for two parallel trails of a four-inches thick tires.

Olden had warned me about the vice-mayor, and I was sure if I went to report about his escapades with the missing Samantha Roberts without solid proof, it would end up badly for me.

Like what he had taught me before. "Never reveal your cards until everyone has laid all of theirs. Patience is key, my lady."

He was fond of the waiting game. He had done it with me for years. But now, he's totally vanished. I never even got the chance to kick his genius derriere.

Suddenly, the small trail widened, indeed there was a fork here. I came across a patch of dry ground with impressions of a four-wheeled vehicle's tires.

This must be where Samantha usually parked her car?

I went closer to inspect it.

Well, it looked fresh, or was the displacement of the soil solidified through repeated motion and mass distribution of the vehicle in place? Plus, there is the normal force exerted by the ground and each tire, the measurements and weight of the car.

I paused, considering... There hadn't been any rain in the past few days I've been here though, and there was little humidity in the sunny town of Sylvan. So, my latter notion wasn't very likely.

Therefore, these tracks must be recent. Someone was here not too long ago.

I stood up and began scanning the area, hands clasped behind my back.

Cabin, cabin, where art thou?

There were still no footprints in the dry grounds, so I took quite some time in guessing the cabin's direction.

I tried walking straight ahead, making sure to leave a few broken twigs so as to find my way back. Branches and a few foliage blocked my path. There were a few dead trees here and there which looked like it came straight out of a horror film, but I was able to make it through the dense forest without feeling claustrophobic.

I heard a few twigs snap, making my head turn toward the sound.

Is it a bear?

I stood rooted to my spot, waiting for any other sign of life. When two minutes passed, I decided to brush it off as nothing and resume my journey.

The path twisted as I wound my way through the suffocating forest. I had thought I was going to get lost but thankfully, I came across a clearing and immediately spotted a cabin. Well, this must be the cabin I hope.

As I drew closer, I almost cheered "hurrah" when I espied a clear pathway perhaps leading to the same direction I came.

Thank goodness I don't have to go to that same path when I return.

I started dashing toward the cabin.

The windows were closed and the inside concealed by the curtains, which also means it concealed my approaching figure from the inside too!

Pausing by the corner of the surprisingly large infrastructure, I hid myself in the bushes. I hadn't thought this much through, because I was still hanging on the ifs and if nots.

Should I knock?

If there was someone in there and caught me sneaking in, I could get into trouble. After all, this was the vice-mayor's supposed romantic hideaway.

On the other hand, if there wasn't anyone there, I could just sneak inside and... look around.

Musing over the idea, I decided to just look for another entrance.

I always get into trouble, might as well go head on with it.

I slipped my hands into a pair of gloves first and began searching for any opening, trying my best to be extremely quiet. I avoided stepping on the dried leaves and twigs strewn hither and yonder as I made a beeline for the back entrance.

The cabin's back door was also locked. Thankfully, I had my lock picks stashed in my bag with me. Hovering over the pick lock tools, I rubbed my thumb against my index finger before snatching the tension wrench and a lock pick of my choice－ the triple peak.

I positioned the wrench at the bottom of the key hole, applying a bit of pressure on the plug. Then, with my other hand, I began raking the pick inside the keyhole in an upward-and-downward repeated motion. It took some time to set all the pins in the chamber, before I heard the familiar sound of the pins aligning in the shear line.

I pulled out the pick and rotated the plug using the tension wrench. The lock finally clicked open.

I returned the handy little things back into their compartment before slowly turning the doorknob.

The moment the door swung open, I was greeted with a familiar putrid scent, triggering a rush of adrenaline in my system.

Ah, the familiar perfume of a decaying corpse.

*****

I stood beside Detective Michael as he meticulously filled out the death scene investigative checklist form.

Yes, it's a real thing. And it contains about more than seventeen pages including the autopsy and suspect forms. If there were more than one suspect, there would be way more paperwork. I had been watching everyone closely including the detective, for a particularly good reason. He filled out the DCI case number, scribbled his name on the "investigator completing this form" tab, recorded the time and date, type of scene, weather condition...

Come on, come on.

When the tip of Mikee's 0.55mm black gel pen came at a rest on the tab "body/s found by," he paused.

I observed him in antsy anticipation, waiting for what he would jot down. He was still the head of the investigation, and my supposed partner/superior. I was so curious if he would put Milady Sinclair there or a fake name on his own volition. But then, he turned to face me and I quickly tried to act as if I hadn't been looking.

Knowing him though, I'm sure he already known that I had, like a helluva sixth sense.

"Ms. Sinclair," he whispered my surname, careful so that none of the officers around us would hear. "I'll take care of everything here. Don't try to poke around. Just observe."

"I know," I whispered back.

I had already made a mental note of everything in the area, snapping my own photographs of the focal point of the scene, before I even thought of calling the detective. I was very tempted to grab some of the evidence here and inspect them myself, but refrained from spoiling the crime scene at the very last minute.

"But what will you write down though? And how do I explain about finding the body inside without being suspected of breaking in?"

"Don't worry," was all he said before scribbling down his own name.

I visibly relaxed.

If it was his name written there, no one would question him wherever his investigation leads him to. He was Detective Michael O'Neil after all.

Everyone had arrived here just a few minutes after I had contacted detective Michael. He, in turn, contacted the Sylvan police officers after he made sure I was alright. He arrived to my location first and was quickly followed by the vigilant-looking police force.

Detective Michael had come forward to greet the officers and had a brief talk while I stayed looking through the window of the cabin. I didn't hear what he had said, but I found Mikee pointing to my direction then. He then guided them inside, though they did not exchange any words to me. It was the first time I met all these officers, and not even a welcome greeting.

Talk about being rude.

Latex gloves and face masks on, they ignored me and began snapping pictures and probing around the perimeter for any evidence. They had yellow police tape all around the cabin, taking down notes on everything they saw, scanning the entire area to record and preserve potential evidence, and opting to employ the Sector-Search pattern to cover more area

Some of the officers kept on casting me a curious glance, presumably wondering what a young blonde was doing in a crime scene where a very dead-looking body lay visible. None of them tried to scare me away though, which was odd.

What did the detective tell them about me then?

"Detective," a gruff manly voice called Mikee's attention, effectively pulling him away from me. He was a very muscular officer, someone whom you'd suspect had swallowed a large annual supply of steroids. He wasn't as tall as the detective though and was just a couple of inches taller than me.

"What is it officer Hussein?" my companion answered back.

"Can we speak privately for a moment?"

"Whatever you want to say, spout it now," Mikee retorted which caused Hussein's round black eyes to shift to mine and narrow.

Hussein turned again to the detective and spoke, "The sheriff said he was stuck nose-deep in paperwork today. I briefed him about the body. He told me that he will not make it here and that we should bring the body in, as soon as possible."

"Whose property is this?" Mikee changed the subject, instead of countering him. He was being strangely evasive, I noted.

The officer frowned. It was one of those deep frown lines that resembled Wolverine's. "The vice-mayor's, sir."

A curt, reluctant response, but at least it was an honest one. Even if Mikee had not asked that question, he would have figured it out anyway.

Now, vice-mayor Olive was the prime suspect. I could already imagine the newspapers printing out the headline: Dead body in Sylvan Vice-mayor Property.

Hussein stepped aside so that we could have a clear view of the dead body being photographed repeatedly like a model.

From the position of the body, an experienced detective can already tell a lot of things. The corpse was definitely female. She was lying face down on the floor with her arms by her sides.

No defensive wounds in her body nor any sign of struggle in the living room where she had been found. Clearly, she wasn't trying to run away or else her arms would have been spread or splayed over her head. Everything was just clean, for a crime scene, I mean. There was only a singular wound at the back of her neck which caused a pool of dried blood to surround her upper body. It looked like a knife wound. What kind of knife, that I have to know after the autopsy.

I imagined the woman turning her back to someone she knew and then out of the blue, the person stabs her from behind, instantly rendering her unconscious. The person pulls out the sharp weapon and runs away, letting her bleed to death.

The body was also a blonde like Samantha, but I can't be certain if it truly is her. The last clothes she had worn didn't match the victim's; Samantha was said to have worn a white jacket, a yellow blouse and a pair of blue jeans whereas the corpse had worn a black pencil skirt and a white blouse.

I couldn't risk prodding around the body earlier. Plus it has already turned into a dull, mushy shape that I couldn't even identify the exact features of the person. There was still a high chance that it was Samantha though.

Then, I imagined the murderer's profile to morph into Mr. Olive. It was plausible. He killed Samantha because of an argument and wanted nothing to do with her in fear of ruining his reputation. He was already married after all. But the body was obviously killed long ago.

Why hadn't he removed all the evidence and buried the body? Or at least, paid someone else to do it, if he couldn't stomach that?

"Is it murder?" Officer Hussein's voice startled and shocked me, so much that my head snapped so fast to his direction like a rubber snapping.

Could he be more aggravating? Of course it was murder! Just look at the injury! Would she have stabbed herself behind the neck?

I had just been wondering what kind of university the officer had graduated from as Mikee calmly answered him, "Let's see what the autopsy results say."

*****

More than an hour has passed and the body was removed from the scene for further examination.

I was confused as to why Mikee kept wrapping one arm around me protectively as he walked me in and out of his own car.

While he had been driving, he asked me to call Dr. Martin immediately using his phone. Dr. Martin was a forensic pathologist whom detective Michael and I had worked with two years ago. He was an amiable man who had obviously earned Mikee's trust. Apparently, he was already in Sylvan with the detective and was waiting for his call to approach the Sylvan police department.

Something is evidently amiss here. I think I wasn't the only one having misgivings against the Sylvan officers.

We met the doctor at the station. He was holding a black attaché case in one hand as he shook Mikee's hand with the other.

To my utter surprise, I found Samantha's family already in the lobby area. I had frozen beside Detective Michael as he hastily escorted us into one of the rooms. We walked past Samantha's family in hurried steps.

Thankfully, they were too busy contemplating over the possibility that the dead body could be Samantha's. One of them looked up just in time to see me disappear around the corner though. I didn't have enough time to witness his reaction, whether he recognized me or not.

Dozens of officers were all shuffling around, as if the news of a dead body startled them, the body bag being wheeled in after the three of us.

"Wheel it in, then leave," Mikee ordered the officers. "We'll take it from here."

Detective Michael and I stayed outside the hall, overlooking the examination room through a glass window. Dr. Martin was now alone in there, getting ready with his gloves and mask. He unzipped the bag and filled out the autopsy form, recording everything he finds.

After making sure that everyone had gone away, Michael whispered to me, "Just by looking at your face, I know you have a lot of questions."

My eyebrows shot up as I responded satirically, "Really? I thought I was being incredibly good at hiding it."

"Sinclair, you have to be careful. If you don't, you'll have a target on your head in a few days' notice."

"I am careful, detective. Now, are we going to exchange information or not?"

"Ladies first," he said in his usual flat tone.

"As always," I answered smugly, knowing I had way more info than he'd had in the past days.

I began to tell Mikee about my interview with one of Samantha's co-workers. I didn't really specify any name, just as I had promised Olden.

"I think Samantha may or may not have had an affair with a middle aged man known as Mr. Olive. He's the husband of the owner of the hotel I'm staying in, and the vice-mayor. Samantha kept on meeting with this married man in the woods everyday after her working hours. They kept it secret. My witness only knew this because he would often walk across the path further to the south of Sylvan where his house is located. He sees them there."

"We already interviewed Samantha's co-workers. We never received that lead before."

"Well, my witness seemed so antsy around police officers here. You said we, so I presume they were with you as you interviewed her colleagues. At first too, my witness was reluctant to divulge information, even tried to point his gun at me." Mikee visibly frowned at this. "But when he realized I wasn't from Sylvan, he immediately cooperated though."

"How did you know he was withholding this information?"

"Gossiping with women." I flashed him a cheeky grin. "Sunday dresses, cakes and fancy talk still work their magic, Detective. That's how you extract information from ole ladies. You could've done that yourself without the dress and cakes, if you only knew how to smile."

"Also, Kassandra said she noticed Samantha seemingly troubled before disappeared. Something seemed to upset Samantha in the last few weeks she was with her friends and family. I quote, she was acting weird, she was always a happy person, but she was looking tired and nervous."

I turned to look over my shoulder to see if anyone was there. Not a shadow though.

"Did you know what's more funny? The vice-mayor and Samantha was seen having an argument near that area where the dead body was found, during that same time period when Samantha's actions became odd to her best friend. My witness had followed them once as they had ventured into the cabin. There's a high chance that the body could be Samantha's and the prime suspect would be none other than Mr. Olive."

"I see. What else have you found out?"

I crossed my arms over my bosom and eyed him playfully. "My, my. I only just arrived two days ago and you expect so much from me, detective. Just hours ago, you were scolding me for attracting a new stalker. Now, you're grilling me for more leads," I smirked. "So, what about the witness you spoke of earlier?"

There was a pregnant pause.

Uh-oh, this can't be good.

"She disappeared. " Mikee's frown deepened as he said that.

"What?" My brows shot up in surprise. "Disappeared? As in like a magic trick? May I ask how?"

"After I received your call, I left the station before the witness could arrive. The sheriff was supposedly going to take care of it, but on my way to you, he informed me that she had just disappeared."

"Did you get her name, by any chance?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Depending on the autopsy results, I will plan my next steps."

We were silent then. Suddenly, my messenger bag felt heavy.

One thing I hadn't been totally honest with anyone here was that I did touch the scene, but only a little bit. I found a shattered phone there and it looked to be a very hefty piece of evidence to me, but I didn't know what to do with it yet.

I'm no technician. However, my intuition told me not to trust any of the officers in Sylvan. Withholding evidence and crucial information would get me into a whole lot of trouble. There was one last option for me though and he was right here in front of me, eyeing me with those cool blue eyes I've come to familiarize myself with.

"Mikee, do you trust me?"

I noticed his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, swallowing visibly. He said, "I do, Ms. Sinclair. You know I do."

"I trust you too Mikee, even with my own life." I then took out the evidence bag and handed it to him.

It seemed such an intimate moment between the two of us. He didn't spoil it by scolding me for touching the body, nor did he flood me a series of questions as to how I've acquired it. He just accepted it silently as I placed my precious evidence on his large hand.

"Please, don't trust anyone else detective. Only me," I whispered to him closely. Leaning in so that only he could hear the secret. In turn, he had leaned down to get closer to my face.

Detective Michael gave me the look. "I know."

There was a knock, startling the two of us. Dr. Martin was knocking on the glass and gesturing for us to go inside. He gave us a short explanation on his initial examination like the victim's dental state and stab wound. Although he found no defensive wounds, it was immediately identified as murder, but the murder weapon was nowhere to be found.

Dr. Martin explained how the murder weapon should look like. It's supposed to be long and unlike the usual sharp pointed end, it has to have a flat end. It was an odd shape for a weapon of choice.

There were also no belongings that point to the person's identity. Since, it wasn't a violent type of murder, he asked Samantha's family to come in and identify if the corpse was hers.

While Mikee went out to find them, I hastily looked around the station to find a hiding place... just somewhere I could slip in until the Roberts family are gone.

I bypassed police officers who were milling about in the halls, doing who-knows-what.

While I was calmly looking left and right, high and low for this temporary hiding place, I came across the very last person I wanted to meet.

Keith Roberts.

I couldn't turn back in time to avoid him. The moment I turned around a corner, he was already facing me as if he'd anticipated that.

"Hello," I greeted him, waving an awkward hand. "It's nice to see you again. What are you doing here?"

Keith was still strikingly beautiful— exotic, as one might say. But the recent days had not been good to him. There were still bags under his eyes like the last time I've seen him and he had a grim air about him that unnerved me. Keith only stared at me eerily and nodded in acknowledgment.

Have you ever seen someone so pretty and cold at the same time, that it sent shivers down your spine? Well, he gave me that same feeling. He was so beautiful, it was scaring me.

"I have to go," I told him, stepping back to the other direction. "My... uncle asked me to finish some errands." That was the best excuse I could come up with.

Carefully, much more carefully, I made my way back to where I came just in time to see Samantha's family enter the autopsy room with Mikee. Looking through the glass window of the autopsy room, I found that all their backs were thankfully turned back to me.

Through the glass, I could see that Mrs. Roberts was leaning against her husband as Dr. Martin prodded the body to show them the distinguishable characteristics of the corpse. Mr. Roberts shook his head while little miss Roberts embraced her mother.

Okay. So what did that mean?

I was purely relying on their body language since the room was sound proof. Then, Mr. Roberts turned to his wife, providing me a good view of his profile. Even with the mask on, I could see a hint that he was smiling.

Alright. So if it wasn't Samantha, then whose body was it? Only Samantha and Mr. Olive should be there. That's where they usually meet.

Who else would know that place?

Before I could jump to a conclusion, a strong calloused hand pulled me backwards roughly.