Katie stumbled forward onto her knees only to discover a little blonde girl with curly locks, dressed in an oversized white nightgown. The lace sleeves were longer than her tiny arms. Katie also noticed red spots splashed across the front and down the sleeves: blood.
“Good boy, Cisco,” she said, petting the dog, concerned by their discovery.
Turning her full attention to the little girl, she said, “What are you doing all the way out here, sweetheart?” She looked around to see if there was someone else, but it was deserted. There was nothing to indicate why the girl was outside. No footprints. No toys or pieces of clothing. It was as if she had been dropped here.
The sleepy-eyed girl appeared to be about four years old. “I’m cold,” she barely whispered as she shivered.
“Are you hurt?” said Katie as she looked for any injuries. The girl’s skin was icy, as if she had been out in the elements for a while—possibly a few hours. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Em… Emily,” she said.
“How did you get here?”
“Mommy brought me…”
A chill ran down Katie’s spine.
“Okay, Emily. Stay here with Cisco and I’ll be right back. Can you do that for me?” Katie wanted to pick the girl up, hug her, and take her to safety, but she needed to assess the area first. Security was her priority and then getting the little girl to safety.
The little girl nodded. Her blue eyes stared at Katie as she pet the dog. It was a look that Katie wouldn’t soon forget. The pure innocence struck her soul.
Katie stood up and unzipped her hoodie and then wrapped it around the little girl. The cool morning air hit her as she was now dressed in just a tank top. She pulled her weapon, still scanning the area. There was a farmhouse and barn down below the ridge and she assumed that was where Emily lived. There weren’t any other homes within view and most were likely several acres away.
Had the little girl ventured out without anyone knowing? Did the mother really leave her here? Or was there something terribly wrong?
Katie didn’t want to move Emily yet until she knew for sure that everything was safe on the property.
“Cisco, you stay.”
The dog instinctively downed next to the little girl. Emily’s small arms wrapped around the dog’s neck as she snuggled up against him for warmth.
Katie looked around and felt that, secluded in between trees, they would be safe until she could quickly search the area. Reaching into her pocket, she made sure her cell phone had a strong signal—which it did.
“Good boy, Cisco. Bleib… Wache…” She told Cisco to stay and guard the little girl. Her dog’s training words were in German, meaning stay and watch. Katie didn’t need to repeat herself because the dog knew what to do, but somehow it made her feel better. She hated leaving them alone, but it was the best way to proceed under the circumstances. By the time help arrived, it might be too late. She needed to report to dispatch exactly what was going on so that backup wasn’t blindly going into a potentially dangerous situation.
After taking one last look at Emily huddled with Cisco, Katie moved to the edge of the trail and began slowly making her way toward the backside of the house. She wondered how Emily got up the hill; there wasn’t dirt or mud on her gown.
Watching for any movement, Katie carefully stepped down the incline until she was on a walkway leading to the front of a modern farmhouse. There were unusual scrolled architectural details along the rooflines and windows that made it seem to be a custom build. Katie stopped and listened. The wind had died down and she felt the temperature had risen a few degrees from when she first began her run. Even though it was still cool, her skin was warm and clammy. Adrenalin was pumping, making her arms and legs strangely prickly and a bit shaky. She maintained her focus and continued to press forward. With her gun directed out in front of her, she kept moving, expecting anything.
There was a pickup truck and a minivan parked in the semicircle driveway, giving the impression that someone was home. The front of the farmhouse had a large porch with white wicker chairs and colorful pillows. There was a porch swing on one end and potted plants lined up side by side at the other. A cheerful welcome mat said, “Home Sweet Home.” A wind chime hung on the left side of the door and gently swayed a melody. There were several pairs of shoes carefully placed to the right side of the mat. By Katie’s quick assessment, there were two adults and three children that resided in the home.
The front door was wide open. Droplets of red spattered the porch and the entrance inside. Concentrated smudges were around the doorframe as if someone had tried to steady themselves.
“Hello?” she called out, watching her surroundings.
Nothing moved. No sound came from indoors. Katie’s senses were on hyper-alert. Everything seemed more vivid and louder than usual.
She cautiously stepped over the threshold and peered inside. The large open plan made it easy to see the living room, dining room, and kitchen in a quick scan. There were several photographs of the family—and she saw tiny Emily with an older boy and girl. Everything looked neat and orderly. That’s what made the bloody hammer lying in the middle of the floor so horrifying.
Katie stood surveying the room for a moment, taking a deep breath. It seemed that the bloody hammer had been dropped there. There were droplets of blood marking a path to the front door. There were no obvious signs of a struggle—no broken items, chairs overturned, or shelves spilled.
Katie turned and could see that the two main doors of the barn just across the open area were standing wide open. She wasn’t sure if it was instinct or fear that drove her, but she backed out of the house, careful not to disturb anything, and watchfully headed for the barn. Everything remained still and eerily quiet.
Katie kept to the sides of the barn and inched her way slowly to the opening. Her ears pounded. Her breathing shrank to shallow gasps. Staying low, she entered the building. It wasn’t a livestock barn, but rather a type of workshop and storage facility. Katie scanned the interior, taking everything in. Slowly lowering her weapon, she dropped to her knees in misery, only inches from the stagnant pools of blood on the ground in front of her. Barely registering what she saw, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the four bodies of a man, a woman, and a young boy and girl neatly lined up next to each other, still dressed in their pajamas.
– Excerpted from Count Their Graves by Jennifer Chase, Bookouture, 2024. Reprinted with permission.
Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and USA Today Best Selling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor degree in police forensics and a master's degree in criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent psychopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling.
She is an affiliate member of the International Association of Forensic Criminologists, and member of the International Thriller Writers.
Her latest book is Count Their Graves.
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