“A lot of streets dead-end here and along the river,” I point out. “And there’s no wall obviously, so he could have been parked in a variety of nearby locations. But from there how did he get the body in here?”

“Carried it.” Marino is shoving heavy cases of equipment around in the back.

“I doubt it.”

“I didn’t say that’s what I think. I’m just saying it’s possible.”

“How would that explain her bicycle being near her body?” I ask.

“Exactly, because I think we already know she wasn’t dumped.” He tears open a cardboard box. “She was murdered right where she was found.” He hands me one folded pair of disposable coveralls, still in the cellophane package, size double-XL.

“Let’s be reminded that we don’t know that she was murdered.” I watch him and I constantly look around. “We have no idea why she’s dead.”

Lights reflected in the water’s slow current flicker like a vast school of silvery fish, and on the other side, Boston is a glittering empire of centuries-old stone and brick, and modern high-rises. But almost no ambient light dispels the darkness immediately around us, and I dig into my messenger bag for the small tactical flashlight I always carry. I force the box of gloves, the coveralls to fit inside so my hands are free.

“We have to establish the perimeter,” Marino says. “We’ve got to start somewhere but as dark as it is? We’re pretty much guessing.”

“That’s why we start here. We’ll look where we’re going and get an overview,” I reply, and I deeply regret what I’m wearing.

I might have to burn this suit when I finally scrape it off me. I don’t enjoy disposable clothing that swathes me in bright white Tyvek rather much like a building under construction. But right about now I find myself coveting, almost lusting for, a loose-fitting pair of coveralls and lightweight ankle boots.

“We can mark anything we see with cones or flags and then come back a second time once we have the luxury of time, privacy, and appropriate visibility,” I continue the discussion with Marino. “I’m assuming you talked about barriers with Rusty or Harold? I know we have the basics in our big trucks, but there’s nothing basic about this situation. The scene is wide open from virtually every angle and perspective once we turn on the lights.”

“I told Harold we’re going to need more than the usual walls that we prop up with a few sandbags to make sure people can’t see shit from street level.” Marino slides a big scene case to the lip of the open tailgate. “But for something like this, you got that right. We’re going to need a tent because you got all kinds of people looking down at us from buildings and the bridge.”