CHAPTER EIGHT
Dr. Whitaker met them just outside a small cabin on a back road east of Flagstaff. The road was a lonely one, with only a few small houses along its route, although the victim’s cabin sat between two other cabins not far to either side.
Alexa noticed the lights were on in both, and the flashing lights of a police car out front chased away the dark northern Arizona night. The air was chill at this hour, carrying the sharp smell of pine.
“Not sure if this case is related to the one you came up for,” Dr. Whitaker said, “although my initial analysis shows the same or similar murder weapon. And we hardly ever get murders up here. Usually I’m doing forensics on hikers who got lost in the mountains. I don’t think we’ve ever had two separate murders in the same twenty-four hours.”
