Hidden in the Pines


 Contents
 
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Epigraph
 Prologue
 Chapter 1
 Chapter 2
 Chapter 3
 Chapter 4
 Chapter 5
 Chapter 6
 Chapter 7
 Chapter 8
 Chapter 9
 Chapter 10
 Chapter 11
 Chapter 12
 Chapter 13
 Chapter 14
 Chapter 15
 Chapter 16
 Chapter 17
 Chapter 18
 Chapter 19
 Chapter 20
 Chapter 21
 Chapter 22
 Chapter 23
 Chapter 24
 Chapter 25
 Chapter 26
 Chapter 27
 Chapter 28
 Chapter 29
 Chapter 30
 Chapter 31
 Chapter 32
 Chapter 33
 Chapter 34
 Chapter 35
 Chapter 36
 Chapter 37
 Chapter 38
 Chapter 39
 Chapter 40
 Chapter 41
 Chapter 42
 Chapter 43
 Chapter 44
 Chapter 45
 Chapter 46
 Chapter 47
 Chapter 48
 Chapter 49
 Acknowledgments
 Also Available by Victoria Houston
 Author Biography
 Copyright
 
 
 
 Guide
 
 Cover
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Prologue
 Chapter 1
 Acknowledgments
 Copyright
 
 
 
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 HIDDEN IN THE PINES
 A Lew Ferris Mystery
 
 VICTORIA HOUSTON
 
 
 
 
 For Mike
 
 
 There is but one thing of real value—to cultivate truth and justice, and to live without anger, in the midst of lying and unjust men.
 —Marcus Aurelius
 
 
 
 Prologue
 
 The banging on the front door was so loud it woke the eight-year-old from a deep sleep. She lay still, listening to the gravelly voice coming from the living room. Was that her father? Was her sister Maggie home late again?
 Tossing back the light blanket she’d pulled up to keep her cozy in the breezes blowing through the open window, she crept to the bedroom door. Turning the knob slowly so as not to make a sound, she cracked the door open. Now she could see into the living room and also hear better.
 Someone had turned on all the lights. She could see her father standing to the right, his back to her. Her mother was on the sofa with her head in her hands. The police officer was talking.
 “Dr. Hanson, Mrs. Hanson, I am so sorry to have to tell you folks this, but we had a call—less than an hour ago—and we got there within five minutes. Your daughter was lying on the bank of the Coon River. A fisherman casting in the weeds along there spotted her and called 911. Dr. Hanson, I recognized her right away. She’s in my daughter’s class.
 “I called for an ambulance, and they got there within ten, maybe fifteen minutes. But she was … she was gone. She was gone before we got there.”
 His voice lowered, but the girl could make out words, words she knew were about her sister: “… head injury … assaulted … marks on her neck … I had the paramedics take her body to the hospital and called the coroner—”
 “No! No—God, no.” Her father grabbed the officer’s arm. “Keep that horrible man away from her. You hear me? I don’t want him taking photos of my daughter. You know the kind of morgue photos that creep takes of women—and shares them with everyone at the bar. No, I won’t have it, goddammit. You keep that bastard away from my child. I don’t want him touching her.”
 The police officer backed away, both hands up. “Yes, yes, I understand, but what—”
 “I will go to the hospital with you right now. I will arrange for my colleague, Dr. Fieldstone, to do the exam. He can confirm my daughter’s death. Isn’t that what you need to authorize an official autopsy? But don’t you let that creep near my daughter’s body or I will sue the bejesus out of you, out of this town—”
 “Okay, okay, we can do that,” said the officer, sounding doubtful. “I’ll call my chief, and if he’ll deputize Dr. Fieldstone to be acting coroner, then he can take care of the death certificate.”
 “Yes, please. If you will do that, then Dr. Fieldstone can call the Wausau Crime Lab to handle the autopsy. There has to be an autopsy. I’ll pay out of my own pocket if I have to. Look, Officer, that’s all I ask.”
 The girl in the bedroom could hear her father trying to calm himself down.
 “Well … I …”
 She could hear hesitation in the police officer’s voice.
 “Tell you what, Officer,” said