Police in America

Sheriff Ben Shoyo and the local hunter seemed like they had more questions to ask, but at that moment, the bedroom door opened, and out stepped Jane, now bundled up like a Smurf.

She had changed into a thick, sky-blue snowsuit, complete with a heavy wool hat on her head and adorable pink mittens connected by a string that could be hung around her neck to prevent them from getting lost.

This outfit made her look ten years younger, no longer resembling the polished FBI agent she was but more like a high school teenager.

The elderly Indian woman behind her was still grumbling, "These are my granddaughter's clothes, not a free gift. Do you understand?"

Jane's expression was still awkward. "Understood, of course."

Cory Lambert, who had seemed to relax a bit earlier, turned his head and froze the moment he saw Jane. He stood there as if turned to stone.

Jack had never seen a middle-aged man's eyes show such a complex mix of emotions in an instant—surprise, nostalgia, sadness, pain, and restraint.

"Okay, uh, right. We can head out now."

Cory Lambert wiped his face forcefully, then crouched down to pick up the mixed-race boy. "Hey, buddy, I need to work for a few hours. Can you stay with Grandma and Grandpa during that time?"

"But today is our day. You promised to spend it with me." The boy looked a bit disappointed.

"I promise I'll be back as soon as possible. These officers need me to guide them."

Cory Lambert's smile was tinged with bitterness. The emotional wave that had hit him moments earlier hadn't fully subsided, and there was a glint of moisture in his eyes as he spoke.

"Okay, but you better not lie to me." The boy's mood changed as quickly as it had come. After a bit of playful teasing, he happily climbed into his grandfather's lap.

Jack's gaze wandered around the room, eventually landing on a wall next to the refrigerator that was covered in photos. One picture caught his eye—a girl with a bright, sunny smile, dressed exactly like Jane was now, even wearing the same kind of wool hat.

This girl must have been Cory Lambert's daughter. Had something tragic happened? Jack wondered silently, piecing things together in his mind.

"You two know each other?" Sheriff Ben Shoyo led the way out the door. The snowstorm had eased somewhat, and visibility had improved.

"We trained together at the FBI Academy. After graduation, I was assigned to Vegas, and he went to the BAU," Jane explained, looking a bit lost as she eyed the four snowmobiles lined up outside. She turned to Jack for help.

"I'll take you," Jack offered. Snowmobiles were light ground vehicles, and he could handle them with ease.

With Cory Lambert leading the way, the four of them took three snowmobiles and sped off toward the location where the body was found.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the scene. The storm had passed, and the clouds overhead had cleared. Two local officers and a forensic assistant had already set up a makeshift tent and were busy working next to the body.

Jane jumped off the snowmobile behind Jack, removed her goggles, and pulled down the scarf covering her nose and mouth. She looked up at the sky and exclaimed, "Oh my God, it was just a raging blizzard!"

"Yes, the storms here come in waves. It might have been clear an hour ago, then suddenly a blizzard hits," Sheriff Ben Shoyo remarked.

Cory Lambert glanced at the distant clouds and said calmly, "Another storm is coming soon."

Jack dismounted from the snowmobile and took a deep breath. The cold, thin air filled his lungs, instantly sharpening his senses. They were high in the mountains, at an elevation of over 3,000 meters. The nearby peaks likely rose above 4,000 meters, their summits perpetually covered in snow. The scenery was breathtaking, but it also meant the environment was extremely harsh.

"Is the BAU planning to take over this case?" Jane asked as they walked.

Jack shook his head. "It's too early to say. I'm just here as a favor to a friend. I'm still technically on vacation, so it's all up to you."

Jane nodded but didn't seem fully convinced. She was still resentful of being sent to such a desolate place, and the locals' attitude didn't help her feel any better.

But despite everything, Jane maintained the professionalism expected of an FBI agent. She ducked under the police tape and began examining the body carefully.

"Has the medical examiner confirmed the victim's identity?"

"Not officially," Sheriff Ben Shoyo replied as he joined Jane inside the crime scene.

"Her name is Natalie Hansen," Cory Lambert, leaning against his snowmobile, interjected with some irritation.

Jane shrugged and tried to smooth things over. "Okay, we'll consider it confirmed."

"Did she live nearby?"

"Wakushburg, just north of here," the sheriff pointed in a direction.

Although the snow wasn't deep, only just covering the tops of their shoes, the sun reflecting off it was blinding. Staring at it for too long could damage one's eyesight—this is how snow blindness happens.

Jack squinted in the direction the sheriff had indicated. All he could see was a vast snowy plain, with nothing else in sight. Confused, he asked, "What do you mean by 'not far'?"

"About a 30-minute drive."

". . ." Jack found it hard to appreciate this sense of humor.

"So she didn't just run out from home. Did her parents report her missing?" Jane continued her questions.

"No," Sheriff Ben Shoyo shook his head.

Jack walked around the area, inspecting the snow near the body, before joining Jane to kneel beside the corpse. He already had a rough idea of the cause of death.

The girl lying dead in the snow seemed to be wearing a long, thick down jacket, but her lower body was only covered by thin pants, which were stained with patches of blood. She wasn't wearing gloves, and her feet were bare.

On the side of her face that was pressed into the snow, there was a large pool of blood, now mostly hidden by a thin layer of fresh snow. The sight was horrifying.

"What's the average temperature here at night during this season?" Jack asked the hunter, who presumably knew the area best.

Cory Lambert, who had been gazing up at the sky, seemed disinterested in their conversation. "About 20 degrees colder than now."

He was referring to Fahrenheit, and Jack quickly converted it in his mind—roughly minus 15 to 20 degrees Celsius. That confirmed his suspicions.

Jane put on rubber gloves and tried to peel back a bit of the down jacket to inspect the bloodstains on the girl's pants, but she couldn't. The low temperature had fused the body, its clothing, and the snow into one solid mass.

"This is why I called the FBI," the sheriff explained. The evidence suggested a possible sexual assault.

"So, what's your take on this?" Jane nudged Jack with her elbow, speaking quietly.

"I remember you aced the crime scene investigation and forensic science tests at the academy."

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