“There’s a dead woman surrounded by flowers who happens to be the mayor’s sister-in-law.” Laurel released her seatbelt and shoved open the heavy door to climb out.

“Great.” Huck followed suit and gestured her in front of him toward the cabin.

She tromped along a now well-worn trail in her snow boots, eyeing the rustic-looking cabin. Lights blazed from the wide windows of the two-storied, log-sided structure. Thick wooden columns stood tall, flanking the steps, and the wide front door had a metal B engraved in the center. She opened the door and walked into the warm interior with Huck on her heels. Aeneas, well trained by Huck, stayed back far enough to remain outside the scene.

“Hi,” Dr. Ortega said, gloves on his hands and his bag on the floor. “I’ve already done a preliminary and wouldn’t let them move the body until you arrived.” His hair was mussed around his face and his pants wrinkled as if he’d hurriedly dressed in yesterday’s clothing. “I’m glad you’re here.”

It was nice to have an ally. “Thank you for making sure we were called,” Laurel said, pulling gloves from her pocket. She looked around the main room, which had been decorated in western style, from the cowboy paintings on the walls to the checked blankets on the leather chairs. “Where is she?”

“This way.” Dr. Ortega turned and led them into a spacious kitchen, where state crime techs were at work cataloging the contents of the refrigerator. He kept moving to a sliding glass door that opened to a covered deck.

Floodlights had already been set up along the perimeter of the home. Sheriff York stood near an empty hot tub snapping pictures of the scene with his phone. Several flashlights flickered through the trees and bounced off the frozen surface of the darkened lake many yards away.

Laurel walked out far enough to allow Huck room to see and then paused, staring down at the dead woman. Even though she was somewhat protected by the eaves covering the deck, she was frozen over with ice and a skim of snow. Her skin was gray and her eyes a light blue, wide open in death. The rest of her face and part of her skull were battered nearly beyond recognition. Brain matter had frozen to the side of her mangled ear. Her long hair appeared to be a light brown strewn with blood, and it was impossible to tell her age. She was naked, and her hands had been removed. In addition, black dahlias had been scattered across the entire deck and down the stairs toward the lake, all of the flowers frozen solid beneath ice and snow. “She’s been dead a while,” Laurel said, taking in the scene.

Dr. Ortega nodded from within the cabin. “I’d guess a week or two but won’t know until I get her back to my lab.”