by Louise Lynn
Maybe she needed them for kicking puppies.
Summer’s long brown hair hung loose over her shoulders, and when she spotted the sheriff, she gave him a predatory smile and cocked her hip in his direction.
The whole get up reminded Hazel of something from a nineties country music video, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying so.
"What have we here? You either came because you missed me, Sheriff. Or your little girlfriend called you here for some stupid reason. I can assure you we haven't done anything wrong."
Sheriff Cross glanced at Hazel, and she felt her lips pull into a line. "How early did you guys leave this morning?" he asked.
Summer looked at the smaller hunter and crossed her arms. "What's this about? It’s a free country. I can come and go as I please."
Sheriff Cross nodded slowly. "You can, we’re trying to establish a timeline, so it would be nice if you told us when you guys left the campsite this morning."
The little hunter stepped up and avoided Summer’s glare. “Hi, I'm James Duke, officer. And we left last night. I, uh, forgot something and we had to head back into town to get it,” James said and looked at his shoes.
Sheriff Cross raised his eyebrows.
Summer Crawford let out a nasty snort. "Right. What he forgot was his manhood. He insisted on heading back to stay in a hotel. You need receipts? I have those," she said and shoved her hand into her pockets. She leaned into Sheriff Cross as she did so, and his eyebrows went up even higher.
Hazel found herself scowling and wiped it away. She was not going to get jealous of a twenty-five-year-old making herself look ridiculous in front of Colton. If he fell for that, he wasn't the sort of man she thought he was.
“Yeah, give the receipt to one of my deputies. Simmons, can you talk to these folks for a few minutes?”
"What's going on? Where's Mr. Crawford?" James Duke asked and looked at the deputies, then at Summer herself.
"This is just a shakedown. It's happened a hundred times before, but they don't have any reason to arrest us, so don't worry about it, James."
Sheriff Cross didn't seem predisposed to tell them exactly what had happened, and Hazel thought she understood why, but she didn't think it did them a kindness either.
Plus, the longer they stayed away from the campsite, the more it could be contaminated. She nudged Sheriff Cross’s shoulder, and he nodded and followed her.
Two of the deputies fell in step behind them, and it didn't take them long to get to the scene. She wished it had, because they emerged from the trees into the campsite far quicker than she liked.
Ranger Albright was there, crouched near the tent with the rip in it, and she stood when she noticed them approach. "Oh good, the calvary is here. I couldn't handle this on my own, boys. Good thing you showed up," she said, her voice dripping in sarcasm.
"Sheriff Cross, nice to meet you, Ranger Albright," Colton said with that signature smirk of his. From the scowl that Ranger Albright threw him, Hazel could tell it was working.
She remembered how much it irritated her at first too. Maybe she should tell Colton to cool it and play nice, but Hazel wasn’t sure if that would work either.
Ranger Albright shook his hand, and Hazel saw the wince Sheriff Cross made at the ferocity of her handshake. "Well, I’m sorry to say you wasted your time, but I'm pretty sure you did. This looks like an animal attack, pure and simple. See here, the mountain lion shredded this tent, probably while Mr. Crawford was asleep. And then it bit his throat and dragged him about a hundred yards that way. I'm sorry this young lady got you involved, but you can head on back to the big city now."
Hazel rolled her eyes. Young lady again. She was thirty-five, but she decided not to remind Ranger Albright of that fact.
"If it's all the same to you, my deputies and I would like to take a look around and come to our own conclusions. This campground is right on the cusp of county lines, and being the sheriff, this is my jurisdiction. I don't want to step on anybody's toes, but –"
Ranger Albright scowled. “Well, we’re not about to go dancing, so I think my toes are safe. Fine, have a look around, but don't mess anything up. And what is she doing back here?"
Hazel smiled wanly and pointed at her camera. "I'm the county forensic photographer. Hazel Hart." She decided not to shake Ranger Albright's hand for fear of the woman’s grip.
Ranger Albright’s expression soured, but she backed away and let them get to work.
Hazel took several deep breaths to steel herself for the body, and took her time shooting the rest of the scene. The rip in the tent. The blood splatter. The boot prints around them both. Anything to keep her from walking back down to the body.
Finally, Sheriff Cross put a hand on her shoulder. "Ready?"
She nodded stiffly. "Sure thing."
She snapped photos of the drag marks as they neared the body, and Sheriff Cross raised his eyebrows. "Notice anything weird about this?"
Hazel chewed her bottom lip as she thought. "Besides how rude the ranger is? Usually, they're nice.”
Sheriff Cross let out a chuckle. "Besides the ranger. I know this might come as a shock, but I haven't seen a whole lot of animal attacks in person."
"What? You didn't have mountain lion attacks in San Francisco? I don't believe it!”
Sheriff Cross shook his head. "Ha ha. Yeah, you're hilarious. Good thing I'm telling you this after you've softened up toward me. If I told you a couple months ago you probably would've made a bigger deal about it."
He was right about that, so Hazel just gave him a grin.
Then she saw the tree the body was slumped against, and the grin faded as quickly as it had appeared. "He's right around there. Either he sat himself up or. . . I don’t know. But I don’t think a mountain lion could do that.”
Sheriff Cross shrugged. “This is why I told you I’ve never seen animal attacks before. I'm not sure if that's what I'm looking at, or if it's something else."
Regardless of growing up in Cedar Valley, Hazel wasn't an expert on animal attacks either, though her father had probably seen more of them than both Hazel and Sheriff Cross put together. She mentioned that to Colton, and he nodded. "You think he'd mind having a look around and lending his expertise?"
"Probably not but—never mind. Yeah, I'll ask when we go back,” she said and started photographing the body itself.
Hazel did her best not to think about Cliff Crawford's final moments as she snapped photos. Close-ups of the face and the wound on his neck. Then his hands, where his fingernails were surprisingly clean for a man that had been dragged a hundred yards from his tent.
"Look at this. He didn't struggle. I mean, from what I've heard, victims of animal attacks struggle, unless it kills them instantly in their sleep. He doesn't have any dirt or blood underneath his nails though,” she said and snapped a photo.
Sheriff Cross nodded. "Nice catch. I hadn’t noticed that. Where are the mountain lion prints?"
He glanced around the forest floor, and Hazel finished snapping pictures of the body before she looked around. There was a lot of dirt and pine needles, but Sheriff Cross was right. There should be prints somewhere. Especially for this much movement.
It took her a good ten minutes of looking and walking at least fifteen feet away from the body before she spotted some. "Here," she cried and snapped pictures of them. "No blood."
Sheriff Cross’s eyes narrowed. "Okay. So the closest mountain lion tracks to the body are a good twelve to fifteen feet away. And there's no blood near them. Another thing,” he said and pointed at the corpse.
Hazel swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn't want to say what was dancing on the tip of her tongue, but she was going to have to point it out sooner or later. "It didn't eat him."
Sheriff Cross nodded. “I'd noticed that," he gave her a grim smile. "I'm just hypothesizing here, but don't mountain lions usually kill people to eat them? Not just drag them away for fun times sake like Anthony Ray does with mice?"
/>
She pictured an oversized Anthony Ray throwing Cliff Crawford into the air and wished she hadn’t eaten bacon for breakfast. "You'd think so. But my father could probably say for sure. He knows everything about the big predators in these parts.”
Sheriff Cross looked ready to ask another question when he was interrupted by shouts coming from the campsite.
Hazel stood up from her crouch, and Sheriff Cross took a few steps toward the sound.
"What's with all this blood? Where's my dad?" Summer Crawford's voice rang out.
Deputy Simmons looked miserable, and the other two deputies were trying to calm her down, but she wasn't having any of it.
Then, James Duke charged down the path toward Hazel and Sheriff Cross. The small hunter's eyes were wide when he saw the state of Cliff Crawford's body.
"Oh—that’s. He's dead," the man cried, his complexion went slightly green, and he turned to the side and lost his breakfast.
Hazel looked away and hoped she didn't throw up as well.
“What's going on? I told you not to come to the campsite," Sheriff Cross said and took three big strides to get to James Duke’s side. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and shoved it in the man's face.
James Duke patted his mouth and spit. "How did this happen?” he said breathlessly.
For a hunter, the guy sure was squeamish, Hazel thought.
"You're contaminating a crime scene, so I suggest you hike back until we’re done,” Sheriff Cross said.
It wasn't a suggestion, and James Duke was smart enough to realize that. He turned around and headed back, like a dog with its tail between its legs.
As they headed back to the camp, Summer charged toward them. She stopped and stared at a puddle of blood that had soaked into the earth.
"He's dead, isn't he?" Summer said and crossed her arms. Her voice sounded so matter-of-fact that Hazel took a step back.
"Yes, I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Crawford, but your dad was killed."
She made that obnoxious pa-shaw sound again and crouched near the blood. "Mountain lion, right?"
"That's what I think," Ranger Albright said and crossed her arms.
Hazel shook her head. She never imagined that a hunter and a ranger would be on the same side, and yet, here they were.
"I'm not certain of that, Ranger Albright," Sheriff Cross said and his eyes narrowed. “If it was a mountain lion, it didn't do anything but kill the man. Why didn't it eat him?"
Summer shrugged. "Do you think anyone knows how those beasts think? It's kill or be killed, and it looks like dear old daddy lost that fight. And you were scared of us being dangerous," she said scathingly to Sheriff Cross.
Ranger Albright shook her head. “If it was a mother cougar, there's a possibility she made the kill and was planning on bringing her cubs to it later. That could explain why his body hasn’t been eaten yet."
Hazel wrinkled her nose at the thought. But then, why hadn't the mountain lion returned?
"Regardless," Sheriff Cross said through gritted teeth. "I'm declaring this a crime scene. And a potential murder. I'm not jumping to any conclusions yet. Not until I can call in an expert. Hazel, we need to talk to your dad."
Hazel started at the mention of her father but nodded nonetheless. “Of course,” she said and headed toward their camp.
She hoped he was still there.
And she hoped it'd been a human who had killed Cliff Crawford and not a mountain lion. It might not be the karmic justice the man deserved, but she knew what happened to mountain lions who killed humans, and their fate wasn't pleasant.
If it was a mother mountain lion with cubs, they’d die without their mother.
What kind of mess had she walked into?
Chapter 8
By the time Hazel arrived back on the scene with her father, Summer Crawford had Sheriff Cross cornered. From a distance, it was difficult to see whether she was flirting or threatening him. Maybe a combination of the two.
Her father raised an eyebrow. "It looks like you've got some competition," he said with a wry grin.
Hazel rolled her eyes. "I don't think Colton sees it that way, but Summer Crawford sure does," she said and shook her head.
Her father readied his camera. He didn't seem to have the same sort of rules she did about her photography equipment, and he brought along his Nikon. Hazel preferred to do crime scene photography with her Pentax and keep the Nikon’s lens clean of unsavory death.
James Dukes sat in the corner of the campground taking slow sips off a bottle of water while Deputy Simmons stood over him.
Hazel mentally steeled herself for a third look at the crime scene, and followed her father around pointing out the key places of interest.
He snapped photos, though not as many as Hazel had, and by the time they reached Cliff Crawford's body, her father was shaking his head. "Whoever did this sure knows a lot about cougar attacks. They really tried to make it look like one. But, I can tell you that a cougar did not do this."
Hazel let out a sigh of relief. "I thought so too, but I couldn't quite put a finger on it."
Her father grinned. Hazel didn't think that was entirely appropriate in front of Cliff Crawford’s mangled corpse, but she kept that thought to herself. "That's my little Hazy. What tipped you off?"
Hazel chewed her bottom lip as she thought. "Well, for one, there isn't any blood in the tent. It's all outside. And those cuts in the tent, the ones that I think are supposed to be claw marks, look more like a knife. They’re too clean.”
"Exactly," her father said excitedly, and bounced on his heels. "Had it been a cougar, she would have bitten Crawford’s throat immediately while he was sleeping. The blood would have soaked the inside of the tent as well as the outside. And you’re right about the claws. They make jagged cuts. They’re meant for piercing and holding prey; not slicing it. And he’d have teeth marks on the neck. When a cougar attacks, it goes straight for the jugular. This looks like a slice and not a bite, though it’s too messy to be sure. I can’t touch anything, right?”
Hazel wrinkled her nose. “No, don’t. That means someone staged it to look like a cougar attack. But why?”
Her father snapped more pictures of Cliff Crawford's body, and walked over to where Hazel pointed out the only cougar tracks at the site. He snapped a few pictures of the footprints as well, and his white bushy brows furrowed. "This is the most obvious piece of evidence that goes against it being a cougar attack. There'd be prints everywhere, and yet there aren’t."
Hazel glanced around. Colton had noticed that earlier, and when she’d gone over it again with her father, she’d seen the same thing. Though, to be fair, the campsite was also covered in gravel and pine needles—neither of which could hold a footprint well anyway.
"And the cougar didn't eat him. That’s something Colton pointed out," she said and swallowed down the bile that filled her throat.
Her father nodded sagely. "Oh yes. If she wanted to save him for later, she would've dragged his body somewhere else. Cougars don't leave their kill out in the open for other scavengers to get to. Unless something startled her away, of course."
"And what sort of thing could startle away a mountain lion?" Hazel asked.
Her father's expression sobered. "Well, in my experience, either a larger predator, like a bear, or a person. Contrary to popular belief, cougars are shy creatures. And they don't attack people willy-nilly."
She remembered hearing the same story from her father her entire life. Along with how to survive an encounter with a cougar if she ever saw one in the wild, and they spotted her as well. The only times Hazel had come face-to-face with cougars were when she was photographing them, and that was usually at quite a distance.
As they headed back to the camp proper, Hazel felt more confident that they were right. Cliff Crawford had been murdered, and someone wanted to blame it on a mountain lion.
Her expression soured as she took in Sheriff Cross and Summer, still in a heated discussion.
She’d let that go on long enough. Might as well try to rescue him—just in case he needed it.
"I demand to know who did this to my father. He’d just retired, and now this," the young woman cried and threw her arms wide. Her shirt had slipped off her broad shoulder, and Hazel was sure Summer did that on purpose.
"I understand this is upsetting, Ms. Crawford, and we’re working on finding a culprit,” Sheriff Cross said, his tone verging on exasperated. His signature smirk was nowhere to be seen. That meant he was actually annoyed.
Summer Crawford let out a shrill laugh. "We know who the culprit is. The ranger already said so. I want to find it, and I don't want any of you getting in my way. The mountain lion that killed my father is mine!” Her lips pulled into an ugly sneer.
“Actually, a mountain lion didn't do this. And I believe it's illegal to hunt endangered species in this state, or did that change recently, Sheriff?" Hazel’s father said.
Hazel wondered if his words would've gone over more smoothly if he hadn't smiled at Summer Crawford as well.
Sheriff Cross shook his head. ”No, that rule still stands unless the animal is considered a danger. Which, as the man says, a mountain lion didn't do this."
"I've been trophy hunting since I was five, and you're telling me that a person did this? Yeah, right. Back me up, Duke," she cried to the smaller hunter.
James Duke shook his head. “I, uh… No comment. Sorry, Summer," he said and took another small sip of water.
Even her own compatriot didn't want to agree with her. That told Hazel something, and it was the same something Summer Crawford's awful behavior told her too—the young woman didn’t have many friends.
Plus, that whole comment about trophy hunting since she was five. It looked like the rotten apple didn't fall far from the rotten apple tree.
"I don't get where you guys come up with a person doing this. In all my years as a Ranger, everything adds up to a cougar," Ranger Albright said and narrowed her eyes at Sheriff Cross.