NEBRASKA
“There was blood,” Lucy explained as she pointed to a black T-shirt on a stainless-steel tray. “Kyle’s shirt but it’s not his blood.”
“One of the other kid’s?” Maggie asked thinking about Dawson and the bloody mess he had been when she stumbled over him.
Lucy had started Kyle’s autopsy and was focused on cutting through his ribs.
“Black dye plays havoc with DNA,” Lucy said without stopping work. “No one’s really sure why. But this time it won’t matter. It’s not any of the other teenagers’ blood.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because it’s not human.”
“What the hell?” Donny went to look at the shirt.
“It’s pig’s blood.”
“You think it came with the kids or with whoever shot at them?”
“Those are the details I leave up to you investigators.”
“If these kids were experimenting with salvia they might have been doing some other weird crap,” Donny said.
“Like mutilating cattle?” Maggie asked.
“I said pig’s blood, not cow’s. We used pig’s blood to recreate crime scenes in forensic training. It’s close enough to human blood and easier to obtain.” Lucy smiled but still didn’t look up. “Donny mentioned that’s what he dragged you out here for. The cattle mutilations.”
“Is it possible these kids had something to do with them? Some freaky ritualistic stuff?” Maggie asked. If a county sheriff could keep it secret that area teenagers were experimenting with new and different drugs, could he keep under wraps their other illegal activities as well?
“The mutilations are too advanced and deliberate,” Donny said. “Especially for a bunch of teenagers tripping on drugs. How would they figure out how to drain the blood? And erase footprints? I’d sooner believe UFO guys like Stotter than think a bunch of kids were able to pull that off.”
“I have to agree,” Lucy said. “About a year ago I was asked to do a necropsy on a mutilated steer. The incisions were precise as were the organs they chose to extract.”
Suddenly her hands were still. She stood up straight and looked from Maggie to Donny and back. “Actually I remember thinking at the time that the incisions looked as though they had been cauterized. It would certainly explain why there’s no blood. Now that I think back, it reminded me of laser surgery.”
The three of them stared at one another.
“I think I need to go upstairs and talk to Dawson Hayes again,” Maggie said. “There’re too many strange questions left unanswered.”
Donny walked her back to the rental car. He needed to retrieve his jacket and she wanted to grab hers before going back up to see Dawson, having learned that the cold invaded as soon as the sun went down. They were discussing what trace evidence Donny would send with the State Patrol technicians headed back to Lincoln. Neither of them noticed the cracked windshield until they opened the Toyota’s doors.
“What the hell?” Donny was the first to see the fist-size rock on the hood.
Maggie couldn’t believe it. Instinctively her head swiveled and her eyes darted around the parking lot as if she would still be able to locate the culprit.
“I thought the heartland was supposed to be a friendly place.”
“People are edgy about this case.”
“So why take it out on me? I’m trying to solve the crime.”
“Maybe somebody doesn’t want it solved.”
“Then why aren’t they threatening you?”
“It’s against the law to threaten a State Patrol officer.”
“It’s against the law to threaten a federal agent.” Maggie heard the frustration spilling out in her voice.
“It’s easier to blame an outsider. They know I’m not going anywhere. They probably think they can convince you to pack up and go home. Don’t take it personally.”
“Are you serious?” She grabbed the rock and held it up. “You don’t want me to take this personally?”
“You get used to it after a while,” a man said from behind them.
Maggie spun around again. She hadn’t noticed the stranger who must have come out of one of the buildings. He stood beside a Buick station wagon parked behind the Toyota. Maybe he had been waiting inside his vehicle for them.
“Name’s Wesley Stotter.” He put out his hand to Maggie.
“Stotter,” Donny said. “The UFO guy?”
The man shrugged. “I guess some people call me that. I prefer the term ‘paranormal investigator.’ ”
Immediately Donny winced. Maggie looked from one man to the other for an explanation.
“You’re the one getting the ranchers all riled up about alien spaceships mutilating their cattle.”
Stotter was about Maggie’s height, thick-chested, bald-headed with violet-colored eyes and a well-manicured silver beard that made him look more like a history professor than a UFO nut.
“I saw something in the forest last night that I think you two might be interested in hearing about.”
“You were there last night?” Maggie was interested now.
“I tried to come up through the back entrance. A bright beam of light stopped me about halfway up.”
“You mean you stopped to watch the lights?” Donny didn’t sound convinced.
“No, I said it stopped me. Literally. Shut down my car’s entire electrical system.”