CHAPTER EIGHT
Even after a couple of hours of watching the Flagstaff CSI team working on the interior of the cabin, Alexa couldn’t keep her eyes off the corpse on the floor.
Someone had killed Tyson using his own MO.
He had been dead for only a few hours. A sleeping bag was spread out on the old army cot. The knife and g*n he had stolen were on the dusty bedside table. A jug of water and a plastic convenience store bag full of snacks lay on the card table in the rusty and cobwebbed kitchen. No fingerprints other than Tyson’s had been found inside the cabin.
At the end of a dirt path a couple of miles from the cabin, park rangers had discovered a Jeep that had been reported stolen in Wikieup the previous day. Robby Tyson’s prints were all over it.
And that told Alexa what she had suspe
