“No, thanks. I’m protected here.”

Once she provided the information he requested, he left her under the overhang, retrieved his flashlight, and did another circuit of her red Civic. As the rain picked up, he swept his light over the asphalt, pausing to take photos of the scratches and dents with his cellphone.

By the time he rejoined her, his shirt was damp and clinging to his torso.

“Did you see anything helpful?” She jingled her keys in her hand, as if she was anxious to leave.

“No. The doors are all locked, and it doesn’t appear anyone tried to break in. The damage is confined to the outside. As far as I can tell, whoever did this didn’t leave any evidence behind. But I’ll swing back by in daylight in case I missed anything. I understand you’ll be here in the morning?”

“Yes. Along with the coroner and my autopsy tech.”

“I’ll knock on the door after I finish and give you an update.” The comment was out before he could stop it.

Strange.

Another one-on-one visit wasn’t necessary. He could file his report, including any additional findings he discovered tomorrow, and she could obtain a copy for insurance purposes from the office. He didn’t have to see her again.

But he wanted to.

Another first during his tenure as sheriff.

“Are we finished for tonight?” She continued to jingle her keys.

“Yes. I’ll walk you to your car.” Also not necessary. And not an offer he’d ever made on past calls.

Grace maintained a white-knuckled grip on her purse as he walked beside her—a clear indication her calm demeanor was nothing more than a façade. The lady was far more shaken than she wanted to let on.

“Thanks for your help tonight and for the follow-up tomorrow.” She angled toward him, the faint illumination from the inadequate overhead lights throwing the taut planes of her face into stark relief.

“All part of the job. I’ll wait until you pull out.”

She nodded in acknowledgment, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine.

He closed the door and stepped back, remaining in place while she drove across the lot, stopped at the entrance, and hung a left onto the dim, deserted road.

As her taillights disappeared, he walked back to his car, flexing his shoulders to loosen the damp material stuck to his skin. It was going to be uncomfortable until his shirt dried.

He’d endured far worse during his military days, however. The physical discomfort this call had produced was tolerable.

The disquiet, less so.

His radio crackled to life as he opened the door of his cruiser, summoning him to a potential burglary fifteen miles away. He shifted into drive and pulled onto the road, accelerating through the rural darkness as fields and pastures flew by.

But no matter how much distance he put between himself and the mortuary, he couldn’t shake the sense that tonight’s incident was more than a random act of vandalism.

2

THAT WAS ODD.