The Acadia Killer

Chapter 16

It took a lot of nagging on my part, but I finally convinced Blake to let me tag along to the crime scene. I understood why he wasn't thrilled with the idea. He was hellbent on keeping me safe, and I appreciated that more than words could say, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to go with him. I didn't know why I felt that way, but I likened the situation to when the police ask a crime survivor to accompany them to a scene to see if the victim can spot something they might not notice otherwise. Maybe that was a ludicrous idea I'd made up in my head, but I couldn't ignore the compelling urge to go there.

Given the uncomfortable position my presence at the crime scene put everyone in, including myself, Blake opted to take extra precautions. For a change, it was a bright, sunny day, which kept me from looking suspicious wearing sunglasses in addition to the hoodie he insisted I put on. It was an oversized garment of Blake's, and although the fleeting scent of his cologne on the fabric gave me a stronger sense of comfort, I was also very conscious of how goofy I probably looked to everyone around. The idea was to essentially hide me in plain sight from the killer, in case he happened to be lurking nearby, watching the investigation. I just hoped my ensemble didn't make me stand out more than I would have otherwise.

After a slippery quarter mile hike from the trail parking, we arrived at the murder scene. There was yellow police tape wrapped around tree trunks forming a large square. An indention in the mud indicated the spot where the victim had been found lying face down. The trail was almost identical to the one I'd nearly become a victim on, and I found myself mentally traveling back to that moment and how I still held onto so much regret for not finding a way to intervene in that woman's death. I knew once this episode in my life had come to a close, I would undoubtedly be seeking therapy to help work through the emotional trauma. I would've preferred to start looking for help already, given that I was already starting to show signs of post-traumatic stress, but I knew the efforts would be futile until the suspect was caught. I wouldn't be able to relax for a moment until then.

A gentle hand on my shoulder startled me out of my thoughts and I looked to Blake who was giving me a reassuring soft smile. He knew I was uncomfortable, but I insisted on staying anyway. I just felt like I had to.

There was a strange discoloration in a portion of mud where the body had been found. I knew it was where her blood had seeped into the ground. A shiver ran down my spine at the realization. Thinking back to Krista Hall talking about having me do crime scene photography for the magazine had my stomach beginning to churn. Now that I had seen it, there was no way in hell I was going to take pictures of such a horrific scene. No one should have to see that, but more so, it was no one else's business. Certainly not the general public's.

I watched as Blake and Ranger Carson studied the scene, carefully stepping around the spot where the body had been and eyeing every single detail they could identify. I found myself awkwardly standing outside the police line, not knowing what to do aside from observe. The more I tried to concentrate on the situation at hand, the more memories flooded my brain of the day I almost became one of this guy's victims.

A cool breeze blew its way through the forest, and I instantly got an eerie feeling. It was that horrible feeling you get when someone is watching you from behind, staring a hole into your back. I slowly turned around, trying my best to pretend I was simply looking at the scenery in case someone was watching us. I didn't want them to know I knew. I carefully scanned the trees for any movement, but the light winds moving branches and bushes did nothing to aid in my surveillance. I did my best to shrug off the discomfort and turned my attention back to Blake and Ranger Carson, who were both taking cellphone shots of the scene. Carson had a small notepad in her hand, but she hadn't jotted anything down yet.

"How did they say she was killed again?" Blake frowned, glancing up at Carson from his crouched position.

"Strangled and then stabbed eleven times after," she grimaced. "Thankfully, she was dead before the stabbing began. What a gruesome way to go out."