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The day was off to an early and interesting start. The dead body wasn’t unusual, but the circumstances were.
Detective Amanda Steele drove her Honda Civic into the lot for Prince Park, joining a Kia sedan, a fire engine, the fire marshal’s SUV, and an ambulance. Three young men were being tended to by two paramedics.
Busy place for six in the morning. Any other day, she’d be in bed at this time. In some ways, she wouldn’t mind being there now. Even the October sun was slow to surrender to a new day. Though its rays cut through the light cloud cover and penetrated the spaces between the tree branches, they did little to cut out the damp chill of fall that permeated to the bone.
She pulled her car into a spot near the Kia and got out.
“Amanda!” Spencer Blair hustled toward her, and it had her stomach sinking. Their paths had crossed on a case a year ago, but since then she’d found out Spencer was the product of an affair her father had twenty-six years ago. Her father had come out with this last year, and Amanda hadn’t spoken to Spencer since.
He slowed to a stop once he reached her, not winded from his jaunt. But Spencer was fit and lean—something that served him well as a firefighter for the Dumfries-Triangle Volunteer Fire Department.
“You found the body?” A toss-away question. After all, he’d been the one to call her here—the unusual part.
“Not exactly. A little background first?”
She gestured for him to go ahead, wondering how he got caught up in all this. Spencer had shared little when he’d called her, just that there was a dead body buried in the woods.
“Some teens thought starting a fire in the woods was a smart idea. We got called out.”
She nudged her head toward the men with the paramedics. “Them?”
Spencer nodded. “Yep, those buttheads. They got started around three AM. The fire was called in around five. We arrived shortly after and got it under control. Thankfully, the flames never got to any trees.”
“Three is a little early for a party and a fire. And it’s a Tuesday. Don’t they have school?”
“You’ll need to bring that up with them.”
“And the body…?”
“Quite sure it’s a woman. In a shallow grave.” His eyes glazed over, as if his imagination was venturing down a gruesome path.
Her thoughts immediately took her there with the delivery of his words shallow grave. It could be the work of a serial killer, but her mind was getting ahead of things. The killer likely had little time to dig a deeper hole, or may have wanted the victim to be discovered sooner. If the latter, why? Just one of the many questions that were sure to come. “What do you mean, you think it’s a woman?”
“You’ll understand once you see for yourself, but not much of the body is exposed. And we weren’t poking around. Leave that to the right people.”
It was possible the entire body wasn’t there. She could have been hacked into pieces and certain parts buried. Push that one from my mind… The nasty creeped in when a person had seen enough of it. “Good call. But speaking of the right people, where is everyone? The medical examiner, Crime Scene?”
“I figured you’d call them. I called you, thinking you might want to have a look first. Don’t let that fact go to your head or read more into it.”
“Uh-huh.” She was curious, though. Had he called her to get close to her, establish some sort of bond? She rubbed her forehead, not eager to traipse down that path just yet.
“I mean it. After all, dead bodies are your wheelhouse.”
“Can’t argue there.” But technically, her shift started at eight thirty. It was her strong drive—obsession—for justice that had won out over her personal desire for a few more hours’ sleep. She just hated that the hour had caused inconvenience to her seven-year-old daughter, Zoe, who Amanda had to drag from bed and cart to her aunt Libby’s. “Who found her?”
“That one there.” Spencer indicated the young man who was wearing a yellow-and-red plaid shirt. He was tall and gangly, like he hadn’t grown into his arms and legs yet. “Name’s Nolan Copeland. It was his idea to drink and start a fire.”
Nolan was sitting at the back of the ambulance. His friends were loud, while he was quiet. Amanda would talk to the group, but later. She preferred to be armed with seeing the site and gleaming more information before doing so. It would also be best if she waited for her partner, Trent Stenson, to arrive. What tells she might miss, he could pick up. “We need them to stick around. Will you see to that while I call everyone?”
Spencer nodded and went to the young men. She watched the interaction as she called her partner.
“Amanda?” Trent answered on the second ring, but his voice was groggy, like she’d woken him up.
“Rise and shine. There’s a situation.” She told him about the discovery at the park.
“I’ll meet you at the station? We’ll head over together…”
They worked out of Central, one of three stations belonging to the Prince William County Police Department. It was in Woodbridge, about ten minutes from Triangle, where she was now. “A bit of a story there, but I’m already on scene.”
“Really? Why are you at work already? You know what? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She rushed out a quick “goodbye” and hung up, not wanting to face an awkward “see you later.” Blame that on a kiss that shouldn’t have happened. Four months ago. Two kisses, truth be told. He kissed her, backed off. Then she went in for seconds. Now she just wished to forget all of it. She had started seeing Logan Hunter again, and it was going on four months. Things were good between them. But still… the kisses in her kitchen with Trent clung to her, haunting her like a persistent migraine she couldn’t shake. She would, though. Eventually. Hopefully.
Amanda made the other necessary calls to get a medical examiner and crime scene investigators en route. Her sergeant, Katherine Graves, was last on her list. She was prickly to deal with most of the time, and her voice set Amanda on edge. At least she was just a stopgap until Scott Malone returned to work. Malone was more than her sergeant; he was a family friend. Recovering from surgery to remove a malignant brain tumor had him benched for seven months already. Amanda was counting down the days until he returned. She didn’t want to consider he might decide on early retirement.
Graves sounded more flummoxed than Trent had been. “At Prince Park? And it’s just after six AM. What are you doing there, Steele? I didn’t think your shift started until eight thirty.”
Amanda bit her bottom lip, counted to three in her head. It had become a ritual so Amanda wouldn’t risk saying something she couldn’t take back. “My…” She stopped talking. It was probably best to leave out that her half-brother called her there. The sergeant was sensitive to any perceived personal connections when it came to her detectives and their investigations. “One of the firemen had my number.” Since Amanda had already laid out what little she knew, her statement would make sense to Graves. “I, ah, worked with him on a past case.” It was the truth, also a worthy addition to support why a fireman might have called her directly instead of PD.
There was a rash of silence. Amanda let it grow despite wanting to get on with her day. But any rush to speak might come across as her craving approval, or desiring control of the situation. Neither would gain her Graves’s favor.
“Very well. I’ll be there soon.” With that foreboding promise, the sergeant hung up.
Spencer was looking at her, along with the fire marshal. Craig Sullivan was a pleasant man she’d met on the same case as she had Spencer. She bridged the distance.
“Detective Steele. We meet again. Would be nice if it didn’t always involve a dead body.” His words seemed an attempt at humor, but they came out flat and heavy.
“Wouldn’t it? Spencer said you responded to a call and wound up with a surprise.”
“You heard right. At the very least, the young man is facing a fine. Fires are not allowed in the park.”
Amanda suspected a monetary fine might be the least of Nolan’s worries. Specifically if he was why the woman was in the ground. The “discovery” might be nothing more than an elaborate attempt to cover up his crime.