“Where’s the body, Mr. Peg?”
Louis turned at the sound of the deep soft voice. It was the first thing Landeta had said all morning.
“Peg, it’s just Peg.” The old man pointed into the gloom of the mangroves. “Over theres. You don’t mind if I stay here, do you?”
Landeta didn’t answer. He headed straight into the dense trees, picking his way carefully across the exposed mangrove roots. Horton stayed to question the old man. Louis decided to follow Landeta.
He entered a cave of branches, the sun suddenly gone. The stink was incredible, a suffocating brew of fetid water, dank dirt and bird droppings. Louis started to gag and had to stop. The moment he did, the mosquitoes closed in.
He pulled a deep breath and trudged on, grabbing the mangrove branches to keep moving through the gloom. Landeta was a patch of white ahead, his dress shirt sweat-plastered to his back. Finally, Landeta stopped.
Louis struggled to his side and looked down.
For a second, he thought she was just a girl. But then he realized it was only because of the way the body was compressed into the tangled mangrove roots.
He guessed the force of the water had done it somehow, but it was still grotesque. The torso was facing outward, but was bent forward at the waist around a large root. The right arm was twisted back over the shoulder, the left arm hanging limp in front. The head hung oddly low on the chest, like the neck was broken.
Her face was hidden by her jaw-length hair, which hung lank and mud-caked, looking almost like dreadlocks.
Louis crouched in the muck. The sickly sweet smell of death rose up to him over the tidal stench but he didn’t move back.
He felt a slap on his shoulder and looked back to see a pair of latex gloves hanging from Landeta’s gloved hand. He took them and put them on.
“What condition is the skin in?” Landeta asked.
“No separation or swelling.”
“Can you reach the head?” Landeta said.
“Yeah.”
“Pull it up.”
“I think her neck is broken.”
“Use the hair.”
Louis grabbed a hank of hair and carefully pulled up the head. Her mouth was open. So were her eyes. Blue...
“Do you see any wounds? Signs of trauma?” Landeta asked.
“No.”
Louis looked at her twisted body, thinking about what Bev had told him about hurricanes smashing boats to bits.
“Can you move it?”
Louis looked back at Landeta. “What?”
“Can you move it? We need to see the back.”
She was wearing jeans, ripped at the knee, and a sleeveless white blouse. Louis grabbed the blouse and gave a pull but the body was held tight against its cage of roots.
“The roots are holding her,” he said.
“What?”
“The damn roots. Maybe we should wait for the medical examiner.”
“Maybe you should find another profession,” Landeta said.
Louis’s eyes shot back to Landeta. He was just staring back calmly.
Fuck you, burnout...
“Try,” Landeta said.
Louis inched closer, grabbed the blouse with both hands and gave the torso a hard tug. It took two more tries before the body slumped forward. There was a hole high on the back of the blouse.
“What do you see?” Landeta asked.
Louis leaned closer. “A bullet hole.”
“How big?”
“Big.”
“Gunshot residue?”
“She had to have floated here from somewhere else. Wouldn’t the water wash it away?”
“What do you think?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Probably.”
“Not if it was a contact wound. It would’ve burned the blouse. Do you see any?”
Louis shook his head, wiping away more sweat.
“Lift the blouse and look,” Landeta said.
It was hot and the whine of the mosquitoes and the smell was making him sick. He lifted the blouse, trying not to touch the flesh. There was a quarter-sized hole in her back, just under the bra. The tissue around the hole was bubbled and flaking. But no evidence of burning. He saw something on her neck and carefully moved her head.
“What is it?” Landeta asked.
“Another bullet hole. In her neck, left side. I’d bet it’s the same caliber as the one in her back.”
“Anything else?” Landeta asked.
Louis wiped his sweaty face and looked back at Landeta’s mud-caked trousers. “What?”
“Do you see anything else?”
Landeta seemed to be waiting for him to reveal some miraculous observation that only Landeta knew existed. If this was a test, he was getting damn tired of it. Where the hell was Horton anyway?
Louis leaned back to the body and let his eyes wander its length. He focused on her bare feet. They were badly cut up, especially the soles.