Laurel looked at Huck. “She was killed before Dr. Rox.” Just how many victims were already out there? Were they all in remote locations and out of touch with people who were supposed to know them?

Huck focused on the sheriff. “Have we found the hands?”

“Not yet,” Sheriff York said, hitching his belt up. Snow had fallen on his receding hairline and then melted down the side of his face to mush in his thick mustache. His gaze flicked to Laurel. “This like the other body you found?”

“This is very similar,” Laurel said, crouching to study the cut marks on the wrists. “Have you found an ax?”

“Yes. Already bagged it, and it has blood on it,” the sheriff said. “We’ll get it examined for fingerprints.”

This guy didn’t leave any prints. Laurel stood and spotted firewood neatly stacked at the far end of the porch beneath the eaves. “We don’t know if he needs to use an ax or has only used them out of opportunity so far.”

“Does that matter?” the sheriff snorted. “He cuts off their damn hands. That’s what matters.”

Laurel focused on Dr. Ortega. “Who found the body?”

“Her sister,” Sheriff York answered. “Mrs. Bearing was worried when she hadn’t heard from her sister, so she came up here and found her. Called me.”

Laurel angled her head to look inside. “Where is Mrs. Bearing?”

“I sent her home.”

Huck frowned. “You did what?”

The sheriff straightened to his full five foot ten, which was still about six inches shorter than Huck. “She was understandably upset, so I had a uniformed officer take her home after interviewing her. She didn’t know anything except that her sister was up here for a couple of weeks working and should’ve been home earlier this afternoon. That’s all.”

What an imbecile. Laurel kept her voice level. “Working on what?”

“I don’t know. She’s some sort of hobby writer.” The sheriff flipped open his small notebook. “Name was Dr. Sharon Lamber. She was a published author and apparently had a doctorate in botany, which she taught at the Genesis Valley Community College. Also guest lectured across the country, according to her sister. Right now, she was taking a semester off to work on her writing.”

Wait a minute. Dr. Sharon Lamber? “The poet?” Laurel asked.

York shrugged.

“You’ve heard of her?” Huck asked.