The officer jerked his head toward Huck’s footsteps. “The dog went nuts going that way. My guess is the shooter was on foot. He’s the Witch Creek Killer?”

“I don’t know.” She didn’t want to make any assumptions. “Is that what the press is calling him? Even though only one victim was found by Witch Creek?”

“It’s catchy.”

Apparently. She turned and walked into the spacious home, careful to step over the blood. So much blood. “Could you tell how many times he’d been shot?” It was shocking her voice could remain steady.

“No. Sorry.”

She moved into the house. A laptop bag and overturned suitcase were next to the back of the sofa. She swallowed and then went room by room, not finding anything interesting. Loud voices had her pausing and hurrying out of the master bedroom to the door, where the Genesis Valley sheriff was yelling at his officer.

“Sheriff York?” She stretched to step over the visible blood and accepted Officer Zello’s hand as she did so. Regaining her balance, she looked up at the sheriff. “Why are you yelling?”

“I want inside,” he said, his eyes bulging and his bald head gleaming. “My officer just said that the FBI claimed jurisdiction and ordered him to keep everyone out. My officer.”

A gleaming white FBI technical van pulled into the driveway. The teens must have been nearby already.

Laurel removed her gloves. “The FBI crime scene techs out of Seattle are here. We’re using ours for this one. Nobody goes in until they’re finished.” She nodded at Officer Zello and then moved toward the techs, giving them instructions. Then she caught sight of Huck and Aeneas striding out of the trees. “Thanks.” Tucking her chin beneath her collar to warm up, she hurried down the driveway and met them in the middle of the road. “Any luck?”

Huck wiped snow off his shoulder. “Two tracks for about half an acre and then just one, when he must’ve started carrying her. Man’s foot size—I’d guess size eleven but we’ll have the techs take a mold. There was blood on the snow where the two tracks became one, which holds deeper imprints from an added weight.”

Laurel sucked in freezing air. “How much blood?”

“Just dots. My guess is he knocked her out and carried her to the road on the other side of the gate, where he must’ve had a vehicle waiting.” Huck patted the dog’s head. “He’s strong enough to carry her.”

That didn’t exclude any of the suspects in her mind, although she sensed she was missing something.

Huck tugged his phone from his pocket, his jaw tight and his pupils narrowed. “This guy has balls. I’m going up in the Huey to view the scene. You want to come?”