Free Murder at Willow Slough by Josh Thomas Page A

want to emphasize that. We don’t know nearly enough to begin to say that, and we don’t need you scaring people.”
    “But you’ve already notified the FBI.” It was a guess, a stab in the dark.
    Kessler gaped at him. Training said he was already giving this reporter a lot of information. Why was instinct telling him to keep risking it?
    Because no other reporters were asking about Doe; they didn’t know how important this victim might be. “Quantico’s overnighting the forms. You’d think I could download them, but the Feds want paperwork.”
    “Jeez, have you ever seen those forms? You’ll be working overtime just on that.” Do you go for sympathy?
    “Tell me about it,” Kessler wagged his head.
    “Who did the crime scene? Are you satisfied with it?”
    “The naturalist called Rensselaer. They came out and said, ‘yeah, that’s a dead body, all right,’ and notified headquarters. I got a call, and they assigned Sgt. Warnecke in Lowell to assist me. He and I did it together. I’m very satisfied, we work practically the same.”
    “Who assigned you? Major George F. Slaughter?”
    Kessler stared again. “Major Slaughter, yes. Deputy Chief for Investigations.”
    Jamie’s heart speeded up. George is on this. That makes Kessler his hand-picked man. “By any chance are you or Sgt. Warnecke certified as crime scene technicians?”
    “I am, last year. But my specialty is homicide. I figure by taking a case from start to finish, it helps me solve it.”
    “Fantastic. Certification is a rigorous program.”
    “Yeah, not that many troopers have completed it. We don’t have a crime scene unit at our beck and call like they do on TV, this is rural Indiana. So I learned all I could about it.”
    “You’re very dedicated.” They exchanged looks. “So, what physical evidence? Tire tracks, clothing, trash, a weapon? Metal detector results? Carpet fibers? Crushed grass, the body dragged from a car? What do you have?”
    “I don’t have a darn thing. That’s what worries me.”
“Fingernail scrapings? Latent prints on the body?”
    “Nothing. Zero. The killer must have worn gloves.”
    And a rubber. “Still, there’s a needle in that haystack. Where’s the haystack exactly?”
    “Shallow water on the edge of the campground, next to a woodpile, directly accessible by car. They have sixty or eighty campsites, never used this time of year. The killer could have driven to the exact spot, popped the trunk and dumped out the body, then driven away with no one seeing a thing. The park rangers only work till 3 p.m. Anybody can come in, day or night. There ain’t even a front gate.”
    “Sure makes it easy on law enforcement.” Sympathy does work with you.
    “With the rain lately, there are no tire tracks, no crushed grass, not even fibers. Just a body in the water behind a woodpile. That’s the sum total of what I’ve got.”
    “Tough case,” Jamie frowned.
    “Listen, if you find anything, I want you to know you can come to me. Will you do that?”
    The preliminary close. “Sure. These are my readers. I’m a confidential informant for seven departments. I don’t work for the government, I work for my readers. All I want is the crime solved. If it’s part of this pattern, I’ll gladly work with anyone who will help to solve it. I’ll go beyond anyone who stands in my way. Fair enough?”
    Kessler’s jaw set. “Fair enough. I won’t stop till I’ve got the guy. Or guys. I don’t care what the victim did with his personal life, he didn’t deserve to die. It ain’t no crime to be Gay. Therefore he’s a citizen. I investigate the murder of citizens.”
    “Thank you, sergeant, very much. Gay Indiana thanks you.”
“So you’re the famous CI. Man, you sure work fast.”
    “The famous one?”
    “When I got this assignment I was told there was a very interesting informant. I sure never expected you to walk into my post before I even found out your name. Jamie, it was only one inch in the