What moves in the depth of darkness? Part 3

Amy Sykes moved uphill at a measured pace through the wet grass, her eyes scanning the ground, the drab brown color of weed and grass flattened by rain earlier in the night. Spanning out to her left and right were twenty or so uniforms walking in a line up the small hill; SID officers with cadaver dogs on leashes leading the way, heads downturned searching the ground. The low pitch of breathing dogs propelled Amy forward.

The search line went between trees and bushes, uphill and downhill, through mud patches and water holes. The ground gave way to wetlands, making Amy happy she had remembered her wellingtons.

The air had been brisk and the sky still half dark when they had started at the rendezvous point. The sun was on a steady rise now. As it climbed above the horizon, it shined a magnificent light that bathed the surrounding nature in a bright orange glow. It would have captured Amy's attention on any other occasion but trudging through a national park in the early hours of morning looking for dead bodies, kept her from appreciating the view.

The sun was fledging free of the horizon when she stumbled over a fallen branch lodged in the ground. Her quick reflexes kept her from falling face first unto the wet ground; she threw her hands out to brace her fall.

She was brushing mud off her hands and knees when one of the cadaver dogs went past her and then started barking at something further ahead. The officer with the leash came halting after, out of breath.

Between high grass and behind a half rotten tree trunk on a bed of muddy leaves, a figure lay in dark clothes on the side. The smell hit Amy next; the sickly sweet odor of blood in decay. The smell hung low to the ground, tangled with the scent of wet earth. It was cloying and ripe.

The smell swept in through her nostrils and made her insides contract in dismay. For a short second, Amy was sure she would spill her guts on the floor of the park. However by taking a deep breath in through her mouth, and swallowing what little bile had made its way up, she kept her guts in check.

The dog was still making noise, a low growling, waiting for its guardian to calm it down. The officer was preoccupied by vomiting on the ground. Amy had never felt particularly peevish about the more gory details of her profession; she had seen her fair share of wounds and blood from her tours as a soldier. There was no shame in throwing up. Overseas they had all done it at one point or another.

Amy moved closer, quietening the dog who sat down at her command. When she rounded the other side of the figure, it became clear why the smell was so pungent. Like the other victim, the man had his stomach split open and his entails spilled out. Like the previous victim, one length of the small bowel was wrapped around his neck.

The ground was dark with blood and rain, the bodily liquids half drained by the soil. Closer to the body, the smell changed, it became the sickening sweet scent of blood mixed with the odor of feces. Upon closer inspection, Amy could see where some of the entails had been slit open and spilled not only blood but whatever had been in the digestive system at the time.

She straightened up and waved a hand in the air. The rest of the search line was too far away to see, so she shouted as well, "Hey guys, another body!"

An SID officer started making her way over while the rest continued the search.

The puking uniform in charge of the dog –a boy really – still looked green when he stood up, a little spittle on his chin. He went to kneel by the dog, "Good boy, good boy," he murmured while he absently patted the dog, probably to get his mind off the awful scene.

"Don't worry," Amy looked at the officer's uniform for his surname, "Officer Jensen. We all throw up once in a while, it's normal."

The boy nodded, his eyes briefly on the body before he quickly looked away again biting his lip.

The SID officer came within view and then grimaced at the sight.

"That's a damn mess, alright," the woman muttered before she began putting down her equipment, careful not to disturb the crime scene. "You two, be careful where you tread," she told Amy and Officer Jensen. The woman leaned closer to the body, humming under her breath, eyes scanning the body and the surrounding grass.

"Jensen, go look for footprints and trash, stuff like cigarette butts and gum wrappings. Ten meter perimeter," Amy told the uniform and drew a circle in the air.

She took out her phone and called Lieutenant Provenza. While she waited for the old man to answer his phone, she took a closer look at the victim's half bloated face. The body lay with its left cheek on the ground, a darkened bruise around the nose and under both eyes. Some animal, probably a bird or a rat, had pecked a hole through one eye socket.

"You found something?" Provenza answered his phone, he sounded particularly grumpy on the line. Amy ascribed it to too little sleep.

"Yes, sir," she answered.

"Well, what is it?" Provenza huffed impatiently.

"Another body. Intestines spilt and used for strangling, just like our other John Doe."

"Damn."

"Mmhmm. Should we get this on tape, sir?"

"Just wait a moment, Sykes,"

Amy listened to Provenza huffing and the low murmur of voices in the background, then Buzz Watson was on the line, "Detective Sykes?"

Amy hummed, "We found another body Buzz, and we could use your camera."

"Oh…" he did not sound particularly enthusiastic, "Oh, well, okay. Yes. I, I'll be on my way then."

"We are approximately two kilometers north west," Amy told him, "I'll send Officer Jensen to meet you halfway."

Buzz affirmed.

"Oh, and Buzz?" she waited for his yes and then she advised him, "I would take some eucalyptus gel with me, if I were you."

"Uh. Yes. Okay. Thank you, Detective Sykes."

The line clicked shut and Amy sent Jensen back to camp along with Buzz's telephone number.

"So?" Amy turned to the SID officer, her gaze drawn to the head again, "Anything interesting?"

"Besides the obvious disembowelment, no, not that I can see," the woman said while putting on gloves.

"We'll have to wait for the camera man to document the body before we look for ID and wallet."

Amy nodded, "what about the wrist? Is there a mark?" she squinted and looked closer.

The woman bent closer and then she nodded, "Yes, just like the one back at the entrance. Says Guilty and then the Roman numeral five. It looks recent to me, but Doctor Morales will probably be able to say more about it with certainty."

Amy leaned closer, mindful of her steps, "Strange."

The SID officer hummed and handed a pair of gloves to Amy.

Amy put the gloves on and started on a small perimeter search around the area now that Jensen went looking for Buzz. She searched the undergrowth for signs of people moving through. Footprints or cigarettes butts or something similar that a killer might throw away.

She found nothing.

…