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“Shot? My agent Dukes had his throat cut.”

She shrugged. “She said shot.” Her eyes were still narrowed on his face. “You’re taking this very calmly. You actually believe her?”

“Hell, no. But Joe Qui

Kendra took a step closer to Venable. “Did it occur to you that Margaret Douglas could be an accomplice? She said that Jane saved her life by taking a bullet for her. Now she has a reason for staying close to her.”

“It occurred to me. But she was already on Summer Island when Jane MacGuire arrived there with her sick dog.” His lips twisted. “A plant? Maybe. Or maybe everything she says is true. Even some of the things that are a bit of a stretch.”

“Did she tell you who told her about this car in the lake?”

“No.” He looked at her. “But judging from your expression, I’d bet that she told you the same story she told Qui

“She didn’t tell me anything that made sense. Just some babble about a feral cat.”

“That’s what she told Qui

She stared at him incredulously. “What?”

“Jane MacGuire says she’s some kind of dog whisperer or animal whisperer or nature girl or something like that. She swore Margaret saved her dog’s life by finding out that he was poisoned.”

“He told her?” Kendra asked sarcastically.

“You’d have to ask Jane about that. I didn’t discuss the details with Qui

“And this feral cat told Margaret not only where the car was driven into the water but where the body was put into the trunk.”

“And that the farmer was shot and not stabbed,” Venable said. “I know where you’re coming from, and I’m a hundred times more cynical than you are. If she’s in Doane’s pocket, why would she tell us any of that?”

“I don’t know. It’s just too bizarre.”

“But Margaret is very plausible. She makes you want to believe her.” He smiled. “Maybe she’s just crazy and not criminal.”

He was right, there was something about Margaret that lifted the heart. Which was probably reason to be particularly wary of her and a sad commentary on life. “And maybe she’s both.” She was gazing at the locksmith carefully trying to jimmy the trunk with a long-needled picklock gun. The crew dragged over a pair of high-wattage work lights and trained them on the vehicle. “What’s wrong? Shouldn’t he be—” She stopped short. “It appears Margaret hit the nail on the head. There is a corpse in there.”

Venable raised his eyebrows. “Really? And did a fish just tell you that?”

“That’s Margaret’s racket, not mine. Can’t you smell it?”

“Smell something that has only been dead for a day or two and submerged in fifty-five-degree water? Even if you’re right, there wouldn’t be much to smell here.”

“The corpse will be bloated.” She took a moment to prepare herself for what was inside the trunk. Detach. Focus on the irritation she was feeling toward the skepticism that she sensed in Venable. She didn’t need to deal with that right now. “Eyes bulging, cheeks swollen, the whole nine yards. It won’t be a pretty sight.”

Venable shrugged. “I doubt if it will be that bad already. I’ve seen water corpses before.”

“So have I.”

“It’s open.” The locksmith with the picklock stepped back as the trunk swung open.

A black tarp.

Kendra inhaled sharply.

The scent of death was immediately in her nostrils.



It wasn’t really shock. It was the confirmation that an i

“Move the tarp,” Venable said to the forensic tech next to him. “Carefully.”

Kendra watched as the tech gripped the edge of the tarp and peeled it back. Half a dozen flashlight beams darted toward the open compartment.

“Holy shit.” Venable instinctively stepped back.

Kendra’s first instinct was to close her eyes, but she made herself look at the puffy and grotesque face inside. The eyes bulged from their sockets like something from an old cartoon. His lips and cheeks had puffed to five or six times that of any normal human dimensions.

A few minutes later, the sodden gray hair of the dead man was exposed.

“Okay, it appears Margaret Douglas was right on the money,” Venable murmured. “The body was in the trunk. Though it could have been a guess.”

She didn’t like the idea of Margaret’s being right, but she didn’t know whether it was because the ridiculous concept of animal communication offended her or that she didn’t want Margaret to be criminally involved with Doane. The girl was so appealing that Kendra liked her in spite of her suspicions. Get a grip. Think logically. “And the location of where the car went into the water?” Kendra asked. “How did the man die, Venable?”

“Let’s see…” He took a step closer to the body. “It can only be a preliminary guess.” He grimaced as he looked closer. “Maybe not so much of a guess. He has a bullet hole in his temple.”

Margaret’s prediction, again.

“You need to talk to her,” Kendra said. “It’s too … you need to talk to her, Venable.” She took a step back away from the car. “And I need to stop thinking about Margaret Douglas and start doing what Qui

Venable turned toward her. “And you were right, too … How in the hell did you know the corpse would look this way?”

“The odor. It wasn’t just normal decomposition. It’s called tissue gas. An anaerobic organism enters the body and runs amok because the immune system is no longer functioning. It results in a specific smell, accelerates decomposition, and causes the body to swell and discolor.” She pointed back to the corpse. “The marbling on his face and neck is pretty common.”

Venable nodded. “So now you’re a forensics expert, too?”

“No, I’ve seen—and smelled—this on a case once before, and I asked the medical examiner to explain it to me. Force of habit. I grew up asking people to explain what I was smelling, feeling, and hearing. I guess I never stopped.” Kendra backed away from the car. “I’ll stay out of everyone’s way, but I want to monitor what they’re finding and doing. Then after they finish, I want time to do my own investigation before you take the car, okay?”

“Okay. Do you know what you’re looking for?”

“No, how could I? I’ll just use observation, logic, hope for luck, and try to put everything I find together.” She added grimly, “But I guarantee that my findings will be a lot more solid than some feral cat’s.”

CHAPTER

4

Gwi

“HOW IS SHE, Joe?”

Joe turned to see Margaret hurrying down the corridor toward him, her thongs slapping against the pristine tiles. “I don’t know. She’s still in the emergency room. I believe she’ll be okay. She’s not dying, but she’s not good. She had a 104 fever when she got here.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly,” he said grimly. “This must have been coming on all day, and she hid it from me. I should have noticed the signs, dammit.”

“She hid it well. She was probably afraid that this would happen. She didn’t want anything to get in the way of her finding Eve.” She added, “And she didn’t want to get in your way and take your focus away from her.”

“That didn’t happen. I wouldn’t have paid enough attention to Jane to get her to the hospital if Kendra hadn’t pulled me up and told me to do it.”

“That’s right. You blew it. You can’t see anything right now but what could happen to Eve Duncan.”

“No argument?” His lips twisted. “No soothing words?”