"What about the cause of death?"
"It was a deep strike to the heart from a very sharp and slightly curved blade," Dr. Edgar explained. “Not a normal knife blade.”
May's mind was accelerating. Suddenly, she made a connection. She didn't know what had sparked the thought. Perhaps it was the fact these kills had all taken place on farms. Perhaps it was that scarecrow, that had made her think in a spooky way of the Grim Reaper.
"Could it have been a scythe?" she asked suddenly. "The murder weapon, I mean?"
Now, Dr. Edgar's eyebrows shot up.
"A scythe?" she repeated, sounding surprised. "Yes. I guess it could have been. The shape of the blade and the width of the wound would be a match. More so than a knife."
"Is there anything else you noticed about the murder scene, anything out of place, anything unusual?" Owen asked.
Dr. Edgar shook her head. "The whole scene was unusual. She'd run up a narrow track between the orchards and the fields that was actually a dead end. So I do wonder if she saw this killer and was trying to get away from him."
May nodded. "Yes, we also picked that up from this scene. That's definitely how it seemed."
"I guess someone holding a scythe would be visible enough to run from," the doctor said thoughtfully. "A knife, you could conceal until the last minute, if that was your plan."
May liked that observation. She thought it was important. She felt that both these victims must have seen their killer. Both had been scared. Both had run.
Undoubtedly, Tamarack County was now home to a violent killer: a scary figure, wielding a scythe like the figure of death himself.
May shivered as she knew it was up to her to solve the spooky crime, and that until she did, everyone in this peaceful community would be in serious danger.
"Thank you for your time, Doctor," she said. "I appreciate it."
"I hope this will help you catch the killer fast," Dr. Edgar said. "I know the first murder got everyone in the area very worried. And another kill is going to start creating panic, for sure. I guess we all need to be careful."
"We all do," May said, feeling the responsibility of her job weighing heavy on her.
She and Owen left, with May feeling thoughtful about what they had learned.
"A scythe would definitely point to a farmer," Owen said, as they walked out of the coroner's office, into the weekday morning environment in Chestnut Hill's town center. Cars were speeding along the main road. May heard the honk of a horn in what was one of the county's busiest urban areas.
"Yes. An organic or a small farm might use a scythe for harvesting, or controlling weeds without poison," May agreed. She knew that there were quite a few organic farms in that area, whose owners and workers would have access to scythes and would know how to use them.
"Those blows were very accurate. It might mean the killer was familiar with the weapon," Owen said, as if reading May's mind.
"And he must have been on the lookout, or on the prowl, in the area," May said. "I'm wondering if one of the victims might have seen him, or noticed him, earlier? Perhaps he staked them out before attacking."
"Do you think that Hayley might have told her family if she’d seen a stalker, or anyone watching her?" Owen asked. "Dr. Edgar said that her family lived close to her."
"Yes," May said. "I think we must start with Hayley's family. Perhaps they will know if she'd noticed anything unusual — or if she had any problems in her life. After all, this serial killer might have started out with a victim he had a real grudge against, and then gone on from there."
"Shall we take a drive there now?" Owen asked. "I see this farm is farther south, on the other side of the Fairshore police department, so we could leave my car there and go together."
"Let's do that," May said.
She had a simmering sense of anxiety inside her. This killer was on a fast interval and May feared that if they did not find him soon, then another victim might lose their life at the deadly blade of his scythe.
Who was this damaged, violent person who seemed to have taken over the persona of the Grim Reaper himself? She hoped that Hayley Meakin's family might have some answers for her.
CHAPTER FIVE
As May sped south, heading into the county’s most verdant farmland, she already felt as if they were up against the clock.
Owen had pulled up the case details as they drove, and May learned that Hayley had lived in a cottage down the road from her parents' house, on a smallholding.
It seemed that the Meakins were fruit farmers, May realized, when she arrived at the small farm and saw the square fields, which were lined with rows of trees and bushes, flanking the home.
Being late summer, May saw that the trees were bearing what looked like good crops of plums and pears, and the bushes were rich with a variety of berries.
She wondered briefly if this killer might be a part of the farming community since both murders had taken place on farms. Did he live or work somewhere in the local area? She hoped that they’d find more information that might confirm, or rule out, this theory.
Owen sighed, "It's never easy talking to bereaved parents, is it? I must say, I find this a difficult part of the job."
"Me too," May confessed, glad that Owen had voiced the growing sense of dread she felt, as she approached the home where Hayley’s parents were battling with the loss and sorrow of such a recent tragedy.
However, May knew that if they didn't explore every angle from the start, then this killer might get the chance to kill again, and again, and again. And perhaps these parents held the key to his identity.
Feeling determined that she would try and learn something here, May got out of the car and approached the large, single-story ranch house, which seemed to have a variety of outbuildings attached.
A small dog ran over to them, its tail wagging, and May and Owen briefly stopped to pet it before continuing to the front door.
There, May rang the bell and waited.
After a minute, she heard the padding of feet on the wooden floor within and the door was opened by a young woman, who looked tired and pale. She had reddened blue eyes and dark hair tied back in a ponytail.
"Good morning," May said. "We're police officers, investigating Hayley Meakin's death. We're looking to speak to her parents, or family," she said, wondering if this young woman was related.
"I'm her younger sister, Janet. And my mother’s inside. You can come through," the young woman said.
Janet ushered them into a living room, which was fronted by a large, open fireplace. There was a sofa, a few floral-upholstered chairs, a small table, television set, a china cabinet, and a large, old-fashioned wooden rocking chair, which was currently occupied by a middle-aged woman.
The woman rose to her feet, her eyes glistening with tears.
"Mom, these are police officers who have come to ask us about Hayley," Janet said.
"Deputies Moore and Lovell," May introduced them. "I am so sorry about Hayley."
"Please, sit," Mrs. Meakin said. "My husband is out on the farm. But we will gladly speak to you. We need answers!" she said, now showing a flash of anger through her grief.