“When we get there, I’ll go in first. Not a chance the doer hung around, but until I know what we’re dealing with, I prefer to play it safe.”

Ryan and I nodded.

Chalker led us out the front door, dug Maglites and slickers from the trunk of his patrol car, and handed them to us.

Single-file, we circled the building, crossed the garden, and squished toward the pines, our soles leaving shallow depressions in the mud and soggy needles.

At a point along the tree line, I indicated the position of Ruben’s body. “She’s about ten feet straight ahead.”

Chalker continued alone. In under a minute, we heard him call out. “Clear.”

Feet spread, flashlight pointed at the ground, Chalker watched us approach.

I joined my beam to his.

And caught my breath in surprise.

Ruben’s body was gone.

“This is the spot.” Pointlessly, I shone my light on the pine with the tumor.

Chalker said nothing.

“She was here.” Working my beam back and forth at the base of my marker trees.

“It’s pretty dark, miss. Maybe—”

“I’m not an idiot,” I snapped, still riding my adrenaline-fed high. Or the Johnnie Walker.

“You sure she was dead?” Ryan asked.

“She had an exit hole in her forehead the size of my fist!”

“Maybe animals dragged her off.”

“Maybe.” I didn’t think so.

I expanded my search, slowly moving farther and farther out. Ryan and Chalker did the same.

Ten minutes later, we reconvened at the original location. My hands were shaking, and blood was fizzing in my chest.

Both men regarded me. Dubious.

“I swear. She was lying right here.” Dropping to my knees, I worked a close-up grid with my beam.

The needles appeared uniformly damp. None looked recently broken, displaced, or overturned. I spotted no blood, hair, tissue, or bone fragment.

There wasn’t a shred of evidence to indicate a person had been killed.

In shock, I stood and aimed my light in the direction from which the shots had come. “We need to check that area for casings.”

“I think we’re done here.”

“Hardly.”

Chalker exhaled up toward his eyes, the personification of patience. “Now, miss—”

I lost it. “Don’t you dare go all Trooper Murray on me. Someone fucking killed a woman out here! I saw her fucking brains blasted into tomorrow!”

“You need to calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down?” I lunged forward and thrust my face into Chalker’s. “You think I’m some premenopausal dingbat looking for drama?”

Chalker took a step back. I felt a hand on my shoulder. No matter. I was in full rant.