Trent was still shaking cobwebs from his mind when he arrived at Prince Park. He’d been in the middle of a dream when Amanda’s call came through, rousing him to the cruel reality of the waking world—one in which dead bodies beckoned and demanded his attention.
But at seven in the morning? That’s what the clock on the dash read when he cut the engine.
He spotted Amanda speaking with the fire marshal—Craig Sullivan, Trent recalled—and Spencer Blair. Trent headed over. The sound of tires crunching on the gravel slowed his steps, and he looked over a shoulder. The sergeant’s SUV.
She was just what he needed before coffee—a superior on a power trip.
“Detective.” Amanda waved an arm to flag his attention, as if she didn’t see he was already walking toward her.
He lifted a hand, a meager, awkward attempt at acknowledging her. Things between them were tense and uncomfortable at times. It was hard to know what to say, what to do, just in case the other was offended. He never should have given in and kissed her. He’d been an idiot to think he could and then completely forget. And it wasn’t like a romantic relationship between them was possible as long as they were partners.
“Hey.” Trent greeted the group as he stopped next to Amanda.
She stepped to the side, placing just a few more inches between them, as if he’d gotten too close.
“Any developments since we spoke?” he asked, clutching at the hope there would be, but the question also served as an icebreaker. Hopefully, it masked his relative unease.
Amanda shook her head. “Haven’t even seen the body yet. I was waiting for you and everyone else to arrive first.”
“It was one of them who found the body?” Trent nudged his head toward a group of three young men near an ambulance. They were standing in a circle, two of them kicking at stones with the toes of their shoes.
“Nolan Copeland. He’s the one in the plaid shirt, dark hair.”
Based on first impressions, Trent would say Nolan was the leader of the group. His friends were looking at him, while Nolan had his eyes on Trent.
A van from Crime Scene pulled in and began parking, along with the ME’s vehicle. Both were stationed out of Manassas, about thirty minutes from here. But it was rare that they showed up at the same time.
It was turning into one big party, and he hadn’t even had a sip of coffee.
Graves was the first to join them, travel mug in hand. Trent imagined it was full of coffee. Steam curled from the hole in the lid. What he’d give for one hit. He inhaled deeply and was rewarded with the robust aroma of roasted coffee beans. It would have to carry him until he could get his own.
“Detectives, we’re all up a little early today. Let’s make it count.” Her brow wrinkled as she lifted her cup to her lips.
He was all onboard with her pep talk—if four words constituted that.
Graves took a swig, lowered her cup. “The body?” She pursed her lips and looked at Amanda.
Amanda gestured toward Spencer.
“I’ll take you now. Unless you’d prefer that someone else take care of that?” Spencer glanced at the marshal for permission.
“You go ahead,” Sullivan said. “I’m going to send the guys back to the station. You and I can go back together in a bit.”
“You got it.”
The marshal walked off to give the news to the other firemen. Coming toward them was Crime Scene Investigator Emma Blair—Spencer’s mother—and CSI Isabelle Donnelly.
“Spencer?” Blair hustled to her son, leaving her counterpart to catch up.
“I’m fine.” Spencer barely opened his mouth to speak, the words slipping through clenched teeth. “The body’s this way.” Spencer led the way into the woods.
Hans Rideout, the medical examiner, and his assistant, Liam Baker, had tagged on to the group too, and they all followed Spencer.
Trent had been to Prince Park many times. There were play areas for children and walking trails. Visitors could hike or take to the water for fishing, pedal boating, and canoeing. There was a mini-golf course, a driving range, batting cages, volleyball, and tennis courts. Some activities were seasonal, but the fact remained it was a popular destination for adults, teens, and children. It would be high traffic, making it a risky place to dispose of a body—let alone a place to execute a murder.
No one said a word until Spencer stopped and pointed about six feet in front of him to a small knoll. “She’s right there. You’ll see the tip of a shoe once you get closer.”
Trent moved in, watching where he placed each footstep to avoid contaminating the scene. Just as Spencer had said: the toe of a woman’s running shoe, bedazzled with rhinestones, stuck out from the dirt. He also noticed a slash of blue going up from the ankle. He crouched down, angling his head. Blue jeans, presumably covering her leg.
“When Nolan tripped over her, it pulled more of the remains out,” Spencer said.
CSIs Blair and Donnelly set down their collection kits. Blair took out a camera and snapped shots while everyone stayed back. She and her colleague continued scouring the immediate area around the grave.
Rideout and his assistant stood sentinel. They’d wait for the investigators to process the scene before moving in. Once they finished, Rideout and Liam would exhume the woman.
Trent stepped up next to Amanda. Her arms were crossed, and her face was shadowed. “Who buries a woman in the woods?”
She leveled a serious gaze at him. “Don’t say a serial killer.”
He held up his hands. “I never did. Besides, it’s far too soon to leap there.” He smiled at her, an expression she returned, even if both were dampened by the circumstances. They were standing on the edge of someone’s grave. Speaking of… “It looks like she may have been put here recently. The soil appears loose, not packed down.”
“I noticed that too.” Amanda wasn’t looking at him now, but chewing her bottom lip, her eyes on the grave.
The sergeant nudged over, her elbow grazing Trent’s. “We need to figure out who she is and how she wound up here.”
Silence passed, and Graves passed a look at each of them like she expected them to have those answers already.
“We got here at the same time as you,” Trent said. He didn’t look at the sergeant when he spoke, figuring it was best not to make eye contact and really provoke the bear.
“Well, we need to find out as soon as possible. I don’t want this hitting the press without having answers.”
Trent resisted pointing out the lack of answers was standard this early in an investigation.
“We’ll do what we can, Sarge,” Amanda said in a measured tone.
Impressive. Redheads got a bad rep for being temperamental, and while Amanda could be fiery, she somehow stuffed it down for the sergeant. His partner would likely vent to him later.
“Where were the teens having the fire?” Amanda slowly pivoted toward Spencer.
“I’ll show you.” He stepped off with Amanda.
A feel for the entire scene would be helpful, but Trent’s heart was with the woman in the grave. Who was she? Were her loved ones looking for her? Worse yet, had a loved one put her in the ground?
“Trent, are you coming?”
He looked up to find Amanda bugging her eyes and tilting her head. “Ah, yeah.” He wasn’t sure if she’d called his name before, but given her body language, he would guess she had. He half jogged to catch up, and thankfully didn’t see Graves on his heels. She was staying at the burial site. One small mercy.
Spencer took Trent and Amanda to a clearing away from the body. He didn’t need to point out the firepit. Stones circled black and charred pieces of wood.
If it wasn’t for the fire, how long would that woman have stayed buried?
“What are you thinking?” Amanda asked. Her and Spencer were looking at him.
“Is smoke coming from my ears?” The half-siblings didn’t appear amused. “Just happy that kid tripped over the body—not that there was one. You know what I mean. At least we can find some closure for her loved ones.”
Amanda met his gaze. Her eyes lit, and a few seconds later, she nodded.
She’d told him before she admired his optimism, but what she didn’t realize was he clung to it like a buoy. To roll over in defeating thoughts wasn’t how he was wired. Nothing got accomplished that way. “We should talk to the kid who found her and his friends.” As the word kid left his lips, he felt ancient. He was only thirty-five, barely old enough to be any of their dads.
“We’ll get there. But I’d like to get more information from the ME and the investigators first.” Amanda turned her gaze to Spencer. “And we need to take your statement.”
“I told you all I know.”
“Okay, but for the record this time.”
Trent pulled his notepad and pen and readied to write. Amanda covered the who, where, when, what, and why of the discovery. In summary, Nolan could be the innocent victim of the wrong place, wrong time, or a killer with solid acting ability. “Did he seem to be playing a part? Like he was pretending to be shocked?”
“From his screams, I don’t think so. His reaction seemed genuine to me.”
“Were you the first to come across Nolan?” Amanda asked.
“Yep.” Spencer bobbed his head as if his verbal response wasn’t enough.
“What was his state of mind?” Trent tapped the point of his pen to the page, the ink leaving a blot of blue.
“Distressed, freaking out. He was on the ground a few feet away, his knees tucked into his chest. Oh, and he was rocking back and forth.”
Amanda bobbed her head.
“If that’s everything, I should check in with the marshal.” Spencer jacked a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s probably about time I left.”
“That’s fine. We know where to find you if we have more questions,” Amanda told him. “Thanks.”
“Ah, sure. For what exactly?”
“Reaching out.”
The half-siblings held eye contact for several seconds before Spencer left, and Trent wished he were somewhere else, affording them space.
Amanda didn’t seem fazed, though, and turned to Trent. “Early thoughts?”
“Someone needs to be missing her. At least I hope so.”
“Do you think we’re looking at a disposal site or a murder scene?”
“Given she was buried in a more secluded part of the park, it could be either. We’ll need more to go on. Her cause of death, et cetera. The grave is so shallow, if there had been heavy rain, she’d have been exposed. So was the depth because the killer ran out of time, or did they want her found quickly?”
“I was thinking the same.”
“Good to be on the same page.” He closed his notepad and tucked it away.
“That has never been a problem for us.” She walked on ahead of him in the grave’s direction.
He was left with the company of his thoughts, which were chewing apart her words. But it was best he not read too much into them—they were a double-edged sword.