Chapter 2: What Is That?!

“Alright, give us the rundown on this Flamand guy,” Phinn directed once the waitress left with their orders.

After driving over two hours, Paisley had insisted they stop for brunch at a restaurant on the outskirts of Darlingport. Despite Jake arguing they could wait a little longer and have lunch instead, Leighton gave in to her cousin’s wish. The two detectives shared a look behind the menus after seeing the prices at the upscale restaurant. While Jake had money from his meet-and-greet, minus what he gave to Corky for his help, and from his latest solo investigation, Phinn had barely any pocket change.

“Now you finally speak!” Leighton cried, faking startlement at the bespectacled teen’s sudden appearance across the four-person table from her. “I’d started to think Jake had a mute for a sidekick.”

“More like an annoying ghost,” Paisley muttered.

“So says the person at this table pale enough to be a ghost,” Phinn shot back.

“You did show up at seven. That’s early for us,” Jake interjected, hoping to stop an argument before it started.

“I told you the time. Him, twice,” Leighton noted. “And we gave you more time to wake up and finish packing.”

“Leigh, what’s the creature that attaches itself to a big, stronger animal and lives off its scraps?” Paisley queried.

“We didn’t actually believe you’d show up so early. It’s summer break!” Jake pointed out.

“I’m sorry. I’m more worried about keeping my aunt safe than sleeping the day away,” Leighton declared.

“It’s still a little rude to hijack our vacation,” Jake muttered. “Some of us only have so many days until football practice starts.”

“Leigh, what’s that creature’s name?”

“Well, I only have so many weeks to stay with my aunt before I return home,” Leighton responded, ignoring her cousin.

“I get that you’re worried about your aunt, but you could be somewhat more polite,” Jake replied before looking across the table at Paisley. “Do you mean a barnacle?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what Phineas is. A barnacle feeding off your scraps,” the pale blonde declared, smirking.

Only Phinn either didn’t hear her attempted putdown or ignored her. Already feeling underdressed in the nice restaurant, Phinn observed some of the upscale patrons. Once the bickering began, the brainy sleuth focused his attention on several nearby tables. Leaning over, he whispered into his partner’s ear.

“I found a couple of easy-looking marks if we need extra cash for the brunch.”

“Whoa! You’re not pickpocketing anyone,” Jake responded at normal volume.

“What?!” the ice queen screeched.

“No, I meant for the scorned mistress’s pissed son scam,” Phinn clarified while gesturing. “Those two have been bragging about the underlings they seduce.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can do that,” Jake agreed, not liking the look of the sleazy businessmen.

“You don’t need to do anything. We’re paying for your brunch,” Leighton revealed, sounding exasperated.

“What? I’m not paying for that charity case,” Paisley declared, jabbing her finger at Phinn.

“I am. They’re helping us with Aunt Vonnie,” Leighton countered as her cousin opened her mouth for a rebuttal. “Don’t be a rich bitch and say whatever you’re about to.”

“Um, well, thanks,” Jake said, nudging Phinn with his elbow.

“Yes, thank you for the brunch,” Phinn said after being urged. “Now, can we get back to your aunt’s boyfriend?”

“Jean-Paul is not our aunt’s boyfriend,” the copper-haired high school graduate clarified.

“There would’ve already been a family intervention if that were the case,” Paisley proclaimed haughtily.

“Fine. What precisely is he to your aunt?”

“Friends-with-benefits?” Jake asked.

“Eww! No!” Leighton exclaimed. “At least I hope not.”

“The man claims to be a spiritual advisor,” Paisley revealed.

“And a kind of healer. He calls himself some strange term,” Leighton added.

“Shaman? Cleric?” Jake asked.

“Druid? Is he a Wiccan?” Phinn queried.

“A warlock?! I’m not messing with any sorcerers. I’m not!”

“What is wrong with you?” the ice queen challenged, causing Jake to announce that he didn’t investigate the supernatural.

“We do, but to debunk the hoaxes,” Phinn clarified. “This one is usually **** at first.”

“Considering the weird shit Flamand claims he can do using crystals, proving he’s a fraud to our aunt would be the goal for your assistance,” Leighton explained.

“That’s an achievable goal,” Jake reassured the redhead. Then he double-checked with his partner. “It is achievable, right?”

“We shall see. Now, tell us about your aunt. Her background, interests, and friendships nearby,” Phinn directed.

Leighton and Paisley spent the next ten minutes discussing Yvonne Ellison. As the more concerned niece, Leighton provided the majority of the information. The youngest of four siblings, Yvonne was a thirty-four-year-old who’d never worked much in her life after graduating from college with two fun but useless degrees. A mix of her blond and ginger siblings, men viewed the strawberry-blonde as highly attractive. That beauty, combined with a sweet innocence, worked as the light to the fortune hunter moths.

“Our great-grandfather usually hired detectives to check out these men,” Leighton recounted.

"Yvonne was our great-grandmother's favorite," Paisley added, sounding envious about the affection of a woman who died several years ago.

Phinn inquired about Yvonne’s finances, which led to the revelation that their aunt primarily received an allowance from her parents. Leighton added that Yvonne did inherit some funds and stocks upon their great-grandmother's passing. She might also inherit the estate where she resided for most of the year once their great-grandfather died, as most of the family didn’t want the property.

“Nobody else in your family wants a summer home?” Jake questioned in astonishment.

“It’s not a place you want to be in the summer,” Leighton admitted, causing the detectives’ eyebrows to raise.

“We call it our family summer home more as an inside joke,” Paisley added. “It’s hot and humid this time of the year.”

“Extremely,” Leighton conceded.

“Nice for you to tell us when we’re already on our way,” Jake grumbled.

“Hold on. This better not be an ex-**** plantation house,” Phinn began. “If so, there better be a hotel nearby, as I refuse to sleep in that kind of a horrific place.”

“It’s bound to be haunted,” Jake added.

“It’s not an old–”

“Do we look like slaveowners?” the pale blonde cut off her cousin to ask.

“Leighton? Not so much. You? You got that haughty, prideful slaveowner’s daughter vibe down pat,” Phinn declared. “The sort that seduces a **** before claiming he assaulted her.”

“How dare you?!”

“It’s not an ex-plantation house,” Leighton insisted before lowering her voice. “The land once held a plantation mansion, but Union troops burned it down during the Civil War. My ancestor came down during Reconstruction, bought the land cheaply, and used it as a spare home while living in Darlingport. Eventually, a backlash to their heritage caused the Ellisons to relocate to Edgewater.”

“Ah, your ancestor was a carpetbagger. I can live with that,” Phinn said, smiling as the waitress brought their food.

Although not interested in family history, the antisocial teen liked to reveal that his father’s side came from the northern Great Lakes, and his mother’s ancestors only moved to Edgewater roughly a century ago. So, unlike many of his classmates, he knew his family didn’t own any slaves, and Jake’s shady ancestors didn’t either.

Jake seemed a bit lost during the history discussion, but Paisley scanned the restaurant with a frightened expression, as if anyone had overheard that her ancestor was a carpetbagger. It still mattered in some high-society circles.

As lunchtime approached, the four teens finished their brunch. When Jake pointed out the time, Leighton leaned across the table toward Phineas.

“I give permission to run whatever scam you want on those two,” the redhead said, motioning with her head toward the two businessmen diagonally behind Phinn.

“Made you feel uncomfortable?”

“The assholes have been leering at my chest while whispering for the last thirty minutes,” Leighton explained, gesturing to her C-cups under her spaghetti-strap top.

“No, those two have been admiring me,” Paisley insisted, motioning toward her dainty sundress.

“They’ve been talking about both of you,” Phinn revealed. “Oh, the things they say they’ll do to your sweet asses.”

“That’s not right,” Jake stated, standing up.

---

"You wanna a cut?" Jake asked about halfway into the drive from Darlingport to Lumlow.

“No, I got enough from my enjoyment,” Leighton chuckled as her cousin fumed.

“Here’s your cut, Ellison,” Phinn said, holding a wad of cash around the driver’s seat in front of him. “You played your role perfectly.”

“I did not have a role! I stormed out in embarrassment,” Paisley screeched, slapping his hand away.

“That was the role I planned for you,” Phinn revealed.

With Leighton’s permission, Jake started the confrontation by accusing the two businessmen of leering at his girlfriend’s breasts. Then, as the men defiantly told him to get lost, Jake faked recognition of the man Phinn told him to. He accused the corporate vice president of being the superior who fired his mother after he grew bored with her sexually.

The vice president hadn’t been able to hide his shock when Jake name-dropped one of the women Phinn overheard them discussing. That immediately turned several other customers against the two men, including one who knew them. As Jake launched into an angry sob story about him and his single mother being broke because of the scumbag, the man’s friend pushed his friend to give him some money to shut Jake up. Eventually, with Paisley storming off, the accused man and his friend threw a wad of cash at the now-crying Jake. The two detectives ended up with over two hundred dollars each and didn’t feel guilty at all after Phinn passed on what he’d overheard.

Roughly an hour and fifteen-minute stretch, Lumlow wasn't that far geographically from Darlingport. However, the two-lane road twisted and turned around swamps, marshes, and pine forests. As they grew closer, with Paisley driving her luxury sedan, Jake and Leighton began talking about Camp Little Weasel.

“Yeah, we don’t keep in touch with many of them since we live so far away,” Jake admitted.

“Besides my friends who went with me, I occasionally keep in touch with Camryn. She’ll call when they visit Chicago. Obviously, that includes Cassidy and Pearl Bonnet,” Leighton listed, referring to the Sasser sisters and their best friend, whom they dragged along on their investigations.

“You seem chummy with Dusty,” Phinn noted, still pissed over that strange relationship.

“Sure. We realized we had some things in common.”

“What about guys? You know, the ones around our age,” Jake inquired, curious about their former bunkmates.

Leighton rattled off a half-dozen young men she still saw around the greater Chicago area. Then, she surprised Jake with a detail.

“I dated Jeremy Aker for over a year and a half between sophomore and junior year.”

“I never liked Jeremy,” Phinn announced.

“You don’t like anyone, because nobody likes you,” Paisley remarked.

“Eh, Jeremy was alright, “ Jake said, attempting to be diplomatic. “A terror during the games we played up there.”

“He’s too needy,” Phinn commented. “Needs attention, needs to be respected, needs for girls to like him.”

“Jeremy Aker is a catch. Maybe you should try to be more like him,” Paisley suggested before shooting a look at her cousin to show she disapproved of the breakup.

“You know what? Phineas is right,” Leighton declared, shocking her cousin and surprising Jake. “I wouldn’t have called it that when I dumped him, but we broke up over his neediness. Gawd, it got annoying after a while.”

“I don’t believe it,” the ice queen scoffed, side-eyeing her cousin.

“We heard he started trouble in his bunkhouse next door,” Jake admitted.

“And you kidnapped us for our ability to read and investigate people,” Phinn noted.

“That is correct,” Leighton acknowledged, shoving Paisley’s arm. “Oh, crap! We never gave you all the details on Jean-Paul.”

“Just that your aunt met him while visiting a friend in Florida two years ago,” Jake recalled. “And that she ran into him again while in Colorado a few months later.”

"The second run-in was obviously not a coincidence," Phinn stated. "However, that is enough information for now. I like to view a target without too many preconceived notions based on the opinions of others."

“So you don’t want to know about the others staying at the estate?” Leighton asked.

“Nothing biographical at this point. Merely the number, names they go by, and how wealthy you think they are,” Phinn replied.

“Let’s see,” the redhead said, pondering the details. “When we left on Friday, there were seven guests, not counting Vonnie and Marie. AD and Troy might have returned while we were gone.”

“Who’s Marie?” Jake inquired.

“The cook and housekeeper,” Paisley supplied.

“Vonnie treats Marie more like a friend than an employee. She’s been working at Ellison House since she was eighteen, so about eight years ago. Her aunt and uncle previously worked at the property.”

“That number includes Flamand?” Phinn checked.

“Yes. He and his assistant, Selene,” Leighton confirmed. “Okay, AD, Catherine, and Ben all work in the film industry. Oh, I guess Troy does as well.”

“Not very successfully,” Paisley added.

“Whoa! Like making movies? Are these actors?” Jake questioned excitedly. However, Phinn hushed him before asking about the rest.

“Hazel’s a singer, while Portia comes from old money. Karter is in the tech industry.”

“Karter Terstad?” Phinn queried.

“Do you know him?” Leighton asked after nodding.

“Only by reputation. He created that phone app that proved mildly successful last decade.”

“The tech bro? Whoa! He’s the richest person there, I bet,” Jake speculated with awe.

“I wouldn’t be sure about that,” Paisley said, rejoining the conversation with an actual point, not a dig. “Portia is a Savoy.”

“Ah, you may be correct,” Phinn agreed, rubbing his hand together. “It's an interesting mix of individuals. I look forward to observing them.”

“Don’t you mean meeting them?” Paisley shot back, reverting to her true personality.

“I meet them, and Phinn observes. That’s our teamwork,” Jake chuckled, throwing his arm around his best friend’s shoulder.

After Phinn extracted himself from the side hug, they entered Lumlow and exited within minutes as a light mist of rain fell. The tiny, poor town didn’t feature much. The center of town appeared to be a superette-style market with a laundromat and post office on each side of the small grocery store. Across the street, a dirty-looking diner and tavern seemed to be the extent of the town’s social activities. Looking down the street at the lone major intersection, the two guys noticed a barbershop, a pharmacy, and a gas station among several other miscellaneous stores.

"Holy crap! Is that an actual phone booth?" Jake exclaimed, sitting up straighter to press his face against the window to study the booth in the gas station's lot. "It even has a door you can close. Wow!"

“Fascinating,” Phinn commented, showing his lack of interest. “Town looks pretty poor.”

“It is,” Leighton confirmed. “People around here have it rough.”

“I never like the stares at our vehicles. I can see the gears turning in their thieving minds,” Paisley remarked, showing her lack of empathy.

“Thank you. Now we know who to throw to the wolves when the townsfolk revolt,” Phinn joked.

“Phinn,” Jake admonished.

“I’m curious about the opinions of Lumlow citizens towards your aunt,” Phinn added while Paisley fumed in the driver's seat.

"They mostly love her. Vonnie has that way about her. Everyone knows she's on an allowance, so she doesn't have much cash. Additionally, what she does have is often donated to local charitable causes. Vonnie also volunteers, whatever way she can," Leighton explained. "We often joined her while growing up. At least I still do, along with my brother and a couple of cousins."

Phinn understood the implied comment about Paisley. On the other hand, Jake asked about Leighton’s fifteen-year-old brother.

“Where do you think? He’s at Camp Little Weasel,” the redhead laughed. “We’ll visit again later in the summer once he’s finished.”

“Poor kid,” Phinn muttered.

“So, how big is your place?” Jake asked loudly to drown out his partner.

“I believe it’s down to about a hundred acres these days. We used to own twice that amount, but my great-grandfather and grandfather have donated the rest over the years to wetland conservation efforts,” Leighton explained.

Jake whistled at the size of the property.

“It’s not as nice as you’re thinking,” Paisley warned.

“True. Most of the land is wooded or filled with marshes. Any type of grassland doesn’t make up very much, but there is a decent selection of trails for hiking and horseback riding,” Leighton explained. “It’s also fairly isolated. The main house is about a third of a mile from the road. The closest neighbor lives about a mile down that same road.”

“An isolated victim can be attractive,” Phinn noted.

“Aieeee!” Paisley screamed, slamming on the sedan’s brakes.

The other occupants sagged forward against their seatbelts as the car screeched to a halt. Phinn recovered in time to see the man who'd come out of nowhere dart into the woods on the car's passenger side. He appeared to be wearing a dark blue windbreaker jacket with its hood raised to cover his face.

“Who the hell was that?” Leighton asked, following the guy who dashed by in front of her.

“He came out of nowhere,” Paisley insisted, continuing to clutch the sterling wheel.

“Damn fool. We nearly ran him over,” Jake commented, catching a glimpse of the blue jacket in the overgrown forest.

“AAAHHHHHHH!!!” Paisley screamed bloody **** as a second man ran out of the woods to her left. This one could easily be called more interesting.

“Ohmigawd!” Leighton gasped, spotting the ax the man held.

"Huh. Sorry, Jake, I think we're in a slasher film," Phinn remarked, glancing at the door. "These doors all locked?"

“Back up!” Leighton ordered her cousin, who sat paralyzed in fear.

While he checked his lock, Phinn missed the ax-wielding man finish following Dark Blue Jacket’s path from the woods across the street to the forest. However, on the other side of the backseat, Jake unlocked his door.

“That man’s in trouble!” he proclaimed, opening his door. “C’mon, Phinn!”

“What the fuck was that?!” Paisley shouted, her brain finally firing.

“Where is he going?” Leighton questioned, turning her head to see Jake run past her window.

“Here we go again,” the less physically gifted sleuth muttered. He unlocked and opened his door in resignation. “You'd better call the cops.”

“Uh, we can’t,” Leighton admitted, wincing. “I sort of neglected to mention the lack of cell service in this area.”

“Great. That would’ve been nice to know before Jake chased after Jason Voorhees,” Phinn complained.

“You know, I think that might have been Troy,” Leighton suggested, rolling down the window as Phinn crossed in front of the car.

“You saw his face under the hood?”

“Oh, no! I meant the guy with the ax,” the redhead clarified. “He’s AD's boyfriend. I guess they returned over the weekend.”

Her observation caused the teen detective to pause on the road. Shaking his head, he muttered, “Such a lovely place you brought us to. Come on, tracker girl. You’re with me.”

“NO!!!” Paisley bellowed, throwing her arm out to stop her cousin from undoing the seat belt. “You’re not leaving me here alone!”

“Relax. The driveway isn’t very far. It’s just over that next hill,” Leighton reminded soothingly. She gently took her cousin's hand between one of hers while using the other to unhook the seat belt. “Just drive to the house and have Aunt Vonnie call the sheriff. You can do that, right?”

“I…I guess,” Paisley said hesitantly until she nodded. “I can do it.”

Leighton had barely closed the door behind her before the sedan raced with squealing tires.

“Come on,” Phinn repeated, standing at the edge of the brush. “She’ll be okay, right?”

“Yeah. I just hope she doesn’t fly past the driveway on the first attempt,” Leighton admitted.

“Alright. Let's put those badge-earning skills to use. Even I can follow this path for right now, but I don’t know about doing so if they start changing directions,” Phinn admitted.

They followed the clear trail of footprints in the damp ground until it got messy. As the trees grew closer together, a dense canopy of branches and leaves towered over them. Besides having to wade through or around clumps of underbrush, they now needed to circumvent gnarly, twisted roots that protruded from the ground, serving as natural booby traps.

When they halted for Leighton to scan a wild, untamed maze of ferns and thorny bushes, Phinn yelled Jake’s name again. Listening intently, all Phinn heard was the forest whispering against them with its rustling leaves and crackling twigs.

“This is ridiculous. Jake needs to learn not to rush off into danger without a plan,” Phinn muttered. “Situations like this are why we need to be prepared. It’s why we’re buying a taser or stun gun with the loot we scored off those two jagoffs in the restaurant. Who chases after an ax-wielding maniac? My best friend, that’s who.”

“I don’t think Troy is a maniac. Or he, at least, never showed any signs,” Leighton said, startling Phinn by rounding a tree from a different direction than he thought her to be in. “Come on, it’s this way.”

The narrowing path **** the two teens to walk in single file. After another shout of his partner’s name, Phinn inquired about Troy.

“As I mentioned, he’s AD’s boyfriend. I got the impression he’s more her guest than a guest of my aunt’s or Flamand’s,” Leighton said over her shoulder. “AD’s an actress, a decently known one. Troy’s more of an unknown, struggling to get his big break. It sounds like he’s mostly worked as an extra with a couple of lines here and there on a soap opera.”

“Living in the shadow of your famous girlfriend can emasculate someone. I’m not sure if it’s enough to grab an ax and chase somebody through the woods,” Phinn theorized.

“Smell that?” the summer camp veteran asked.

“Damp earth and pine resin?” Phinn offered, shrugging his shoulders.

“The sweet smell. I think it’s blooming wildflowers. We may be near a clearing.”

“Jake! You out here? Jake!” Phinn shouted.

Eventually, after the fifth shout, they heard a faint reply.

“Phinn! I’m over here!”

“That way,” Leighton directed to their left.

As they walked, Phinn shouted his friend’s name in one-minute intervals, like a game of Marco Polo. Leighton corrected their course several times in response to the shouted reply.

“Phinn! I found something you need to see!” Jake yelled from relatively close.

“I bet he caught that Troy,” Phinn guessed proudly.

“Oh!” Leighton sounded, pushing through additional thick brush. “It’s one of the trails.”

As Phinn followed her into a long clearing, he saw it was a hiking or horseback riding trail with a mix of gravel and wood chips. He also spotted his partner standing alone near the other side of the winding trail.

“Damn, I thought you caught one of them,” Phinn moaned.

“I lost them a little while ago. One guy kept yelling for the first ten minutes. I assume it was the freak with the ax, as nobody responded,” Jake recounted.

“Leighton thinks Ax Man might be Troy, one of her aunt’s guests,” Phinn relayed.

“Seriously?”

“I only caught a glimpse, but I think it might be him,” the redhead replied.

“Didn’t you find something?” Phinn asked.

“After I ran out onto this trail, I started running in that direction down it,” Jake recounted as Leighton guessed it to be east. “Well, I more or less jogged so that I could scan the sides. That's when I noticed this section.”

“Yes, that certainly looks trampled,” Leighton agreed.

“That’s why I thought the men might have run through this spot. So I followed, and about ten, twelve feet in, I tripped,” Jake teased.

“Over what?”

“You'd better take a look,” the stocky detective suggested, enjoying the rare moment he knew something Phinn didn’t.

Despite Leighton’s experience, Phinn followed Jake inside first. With Jake instructing, they weaved around his original path in a wide half-circle. Suddenly, the muscular teen stopped to point at the ground behind several low ferns.

Studying the ground for a second, Phinn whistled.

“I think you may have a case, Ledford.”

“Why? What’s there?” The redhead questioned before walking around the scrawny teen. “Oh, gawd!”

Leighton took a long, frightened look before turning to vomit behind a nearby bush.

“What do you think?” Jake asked.

“Hmmm, it’s hard to say. This heat and humidity will speed up the decomposition rate,” Phinn noted, staring at the corpse. “I’d conservatively speculate he died several days ago.”

“That’s an awful lot of maggots,” Jake said, cringing. “I think he’s been here longer.”

“One can estimate the **** day by using those larvae and their growth cycle,” Phinn noted.

“And?”

“Hey, you know that’s not my area of expertise,” Phinn shot back. “You know who we should’ve brought with us? Galen.”

“Oh, right! Kid Science is all into bugs and shit, isn’t he?” Jake recalled.

“You check for an ID?”

“Are you serious? That body might burst if I touch it,” Jake pointed out. “Besides, it’s your turn.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. I checked for the wallet in the dead body in the bathtub on our last case,” Jake reminded.

“Ah, you’re right,” Phinn agreed. “Eww, yeah, I also think you’re right about the potential bursting. I guess we'd better pass on the pat down.”

“Oh. My. Gawd! How many dead bodies have you seen to be this relaxed? Aren’t you ready to throw up, too?” Leighton challenged after wiping her mouth with a tissue.

“A few,” Jake shrugged. ”Oh, a tip: breathe through your mouth.”

“Outside of our last case, it had been some time. We usually come along after the body goes to the morgue,” Phinn explained. “As for the total number, I think it might be more than two dozen at this point.”

“Easily,” Jake agreed. “We’re not very good record keepers.”

“Yeah, that was Dusty’s job,” Phinn noted.

“Whatever! It’s rude to be this flippant about somebody’s ****. This poor guy–it is a man, right? This poor guy probably was out for a hike and dropped dead from a heart attack or stroke,” Leighton speculated.

“Oh, this guy didn’t drop dead,” Jake stated.

“Not with all those knife wounds,” Phinn added. “Didn’t you notice them? Or the dried blood?”

“No, I didn’t. How can you?”

“Talk about overkill,” Jake remarked. “What do you think?”

“How far is the road from here?" Phinn asked their host.

“Pretty far. This is one of the trails on Frank Noonan’s land. He’s our closest neighbor,” Leighton explained, motioning for them to return to the trail. “And don’t think Frank did this, he’s pretty up there in age.”

“Well, considering the distance from the road and the poor job of hiding the body–”

“Poor job? He’s in deep brush in a remote area,” Leighton interrupted to draw attention to.

“I didn’t see any signs of blood on the trail, did you?” Phinn inquired.

“Nothing, and I checked after finding it,” Jake confirmed. “I don’t see a blanket or tarp. I doubt anyone carried him that far.”

“Very well. As to your questions, Leighton, if somebody took the time and effort to drag the body from the road, then they’d take the additional time to dig a hole to bury it,” Phinn explained. “What’s the point of doing all that work and just dumping it a few feet from a trail. Who uses these trails?”

“Not many people. We don’t get many tourists around these parts. So it would be locals or their visiting relatives. Why?” Leighton questioned.

"The likely scenario is that the victim and the killer met on this trail. Either an argument ensued and escalated into a killing, or this was a premeditated ****. The sheriff will likely claim that a vagrant from out of town killed that man in an attempted robbery. It's the standard go-to explanation in small towns for hard-to-solve murders," Phinn explained.

“Why do you keep insisting it’s a ****? You don’t know that!”

“It’s the method,” Jake began. “That kind of overkill means it’s personal for the killer. Sure, there are exceptions, but it’s usually a sign the victim knew their killer quite well.”

“And based on who uses this trail, you or your aunt probably knows one of them,” Phinn pointed out.

“Ohmigawd!” Leighton gasped.

“Uh, shouldn’t we call the cops?” Jake inquired.

"No need. Paisley ran to call them about Ax Man." Phinn passed along before addressing the redhead's next question. "No, that guy wasn't done in with an ax."