The earring lay far enough from the dump site that it could’ve been nothing. Wrong direction from the scuffed earth, not on the line anyone hauling a body would have taken. People lost stuff in the woods all the time—hikers, kids, half the town cutting through to save five minutes. It might not have anything to do with the man in the leaves.
But something about it felt wrong. Too specific. Too unusual to be random.
She exhaled and slid it into an evidence bag. Chain of custody mattered. The case mattered. Let the lab figure out if it connected.
Lucy huffed softly beside her, as if reminding her of the present moment. Jo reached up and scratched behind the dog’s ear. “Good girl.”
Lucy accepted the praise with a quiet wag of her tail, then turned her attention back to the woods, nose working again.
Jo barely noticed. Her thoughts were already cataloging the find, running through possibilities.
“You good?”
Jo blinked and looked up.
Kevin had stepped closer, boot toes just inside her peripheral vision. He watched her with an amused tilt to his mouth, but there was a question behind it.
“Yeah,” Jo said. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous habit,” Kevin said lightly, but he held her gaze for a second longer than usual before turning back toward the body.
She glanced at Lucy. The dog was still watching her, head slightly cocked, like she was waiting for the next command.
Jo dropped her eyes to the evidence bag in her hand, the odd eye-shaped post visible through the plastic.
Something about it bothered her.
She just couldn’t put her finger on what.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Tahoe’s engine hummed as Sam pulled onto the main road, the woods falling away behind them. Jo sat in the passenger seat, watching the trees blur past.
Lucy sprawled across the back seat, nose still twitching like she was processing every scent from the scene. Her tail gave an occasional thump against the upholstery, satisfied with a job well done.
“You get everything?” Sam asked.
Jo nodded. “Fabric sample, photos, measurements. Kevin got a full perimeter walk. Lucy sniffed two separate locations where the body was moved.”
“Good.” Sam’s jaw worked. “ME said they’d start the autopsy today. We should have preliminary results by morning.”
Jo watched the trees blur past her window. Something about the scene bothered her—the staging felt deliberate. Professional. Like whoever dumped the body wanted to send a message.
“You’re quiet,” Sam said.
“Long day.”
“It’s barely noon.”
Jo huffed a laugh. “Feels longer.”
They lapsed back into silence. The station came into view, squat and familiar against the afternoon sky.
Sam parked and killed the engine. Kevin pulled in beside them a moment later.
Inside, the station smelled like burnt coffee and copy toner. Reese looked up from her desk, eyebrows lifting.
“That was fast.”