Bishop had gone around the boulders to see what Diana’s spirit guide had led them to, but hadn’t lingered, returning to join her and Quentin on the valley side of the odd granite formation. The only indication that what he’d seen had affected him was the faint scar twisting down his left cheek; as always when he was disturbed, it became whitened, more obvious, a visible barometer of his emotions.

Diana said, “Finn isn’t coming up here alone, is he? Since he’s a member of the Five, I mean.”

“One of his deputies is coming with him,” Bishop answered. “He agreed it’s worth the risk to see this victim ASAP and try to identify him.”

“You called him before you got here,” she noted.

Bishop nodded. “As soon as Quentin told me the remains were recent and not buried. From what Hollis sensed yesterday, and given how long it must have taken to destroy the body this way, it’s more likely this could be Cole Ainsworth than Simon Cavendish.”

Quentin said, “We should be able to get some info here just from the area. That’s a crime scene, not a dump site. And not a grave the way you said Megan was buried. What was done to him was done there.”

“Agreed.”

“This is the first time we’ve been in this area. And with the boulders and the angle, all the evergreen trees and bushes, no one down in the valley would have seen a thing even if he worked on the vic yesterday—and all night surrounded by some kind of lights. Hikers don’t come near this area even in daylight, not in winter; the little trail we were following was a wildlife path to the nearest water. I didn’t need any paranormal sense to hear a stream in the right direction.”

“But you nevertheless tried to use the spider senses,” Bishop said.

“I decided to give it a try up here,” Quentin admitted. “Hoped maybe it wouldn’t be the same as down in town. Unfortunately, I didn’t pick up a thing.” He didn’t add that the effort had caused the same sharp pain they had all experienced and in addition left his head throbbing.

He didn’t have to.

Bishop nodded. “Well, our normal senses say that a great deal of what was done here was postmortem. And it took a while. Even so, it’s fairly obvious the victim probably died sometime last night. Though could be as late as dawn.”

“And this place—the victim—was screened well enough by the boulders and all the trees and undergrowth that even the crows were less likely to see it if they patrolled this area before,” Diana said. “Especially while—while it was probably happening. Unless he—”

Quite abruptly, her trained and experienced imagination offered a new detail, so clear and vivid she would have sworn she could hear screams of agony.

THIRTEEN

Quentin said steadily, “I’m betting he made sure the victim couldn’t make a sound.”

Diana nodded and hurriedly changed the subject, mostly to try to divert her mind from thoughts of a gagged victim who had certainly tried to scream in agony. “The crows. They usually roost at night, right? And they prefer more open areas, not as heavily wooded as this. Usually.”