Darkwind: Ancient Enemy 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

of furniture for the night while on this dig-site, perhaps taking turns between the couches and the bedroom. To his right, towards the very front of the trailer, there were fold-up tables and a small desk in the corner that looked like something a student might have in his or her dorm room.
    Palmer stepped towards the front of the trailer. The desk had a laptop computer on it next to a collection of scientific equipment that he couldn’t name … he thought one of the pieces might’ve been some kind of a microscope. He stared at the laptop and noticed that the edges of the plastic seemed to have been melted, the laptop destroyed. He gently lifted the screen up and saw that it was cracked, the screen dark.
    Leaving the laptop open, Palmer walked over to the two tables where collections of labeled pottery and stone fragments were laid out. It looked like it had been a neat display at one time, but now it was a cluttered mess, some of the artifacts on the floor around the table.
    Had there been a fight in here? Palmer wondered. Maybe one of these scientists had flipped out and attacked the others, then fled the scene.
    Palmer stood next to one of the tables for a long moment, just staring down at the pottery fragments, letting his mind wander. He liked to be the only one at the crime scene, especially when he was the first agent there, but he was here with Klein and the Tribal Police officer. When he was alone, he liked to try to piece together what had happened, let the clues speak to him. He would never go so far as to call it a psychic ability, but if he was quiet and if he just let his mind reach out, it was almost like the murder scene and the dead spoke to him, like they told him a story.
    And it felt like this story was beginning to come together in his mind. Maybe it was a disgruntled scientist. Or one of them had had a mental breakdown … like some kind of cabin fever. This person had attacked one of the scientists, maybe killed him in a fit of rage. That’s why there was all the blood on the walls and soaked into the carpet. Knowing he was in trouble, the attacker tried to cover his tracks by killing the others.
    Palmer slid his gloved hand into his suitcoat pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He took some photos of the pottery fragments and the destroyed laptop on the desk. The forensics team would take many more photos, but Palmer liked to have his own to study. He took photos of the smears of blood on the corners of the plastic tables; a spray of blood across the artifacts with their neat little white tags tied to them, labeled with some kind of code or filing system that Palmer didn’t understand.
    He walked through the rest of the living room area, his footsteps thudding on the floor and making him sound heavier than he was. The cold wood flooring underneath the thin carpet cracked and popped with each step he took.
    Begay waited by the front door and Klein had a digital camera that he was using to take photos. But Palmer ignored them, delving deeper into the clues before him.
    The cheap venetian blinds that covered the windows were torn and bent in many places. One of the blinds hung askew over the window behind one of the couches. A splatter of blood dotted these blinds.
    Hit with a blunt object, Palmer thought. Blood spray from the wound … most likely from the victim’s head.
    The living room opened up to a small kitchen and dining area. The appliances were trailer-small: a mini-fridge, a two-burner stovetop, a tiny oven, a row of small cabinets built over the one-basin sink.
    There were more signs of disturbance in the kitchen/dining area, more blood stains, more evidence of violence. Palmer checked the refrigerator. It was dark and warm. The generator that provided electricity for this trailer had been off for a few days at least.
    The kitchen and built-in seating area that looked like it could barely squeeze three people around it led to a small hallway and doorways to two small bedrooms and a