“Though awaiting official confirmation by the Monroe County Coroner, an unnamed source working with the Bloomington Police Department said a body found in a soccer field is believed to be that of missing student Paige Lauffer—”

Mary interrupted. “Who’s the source, Greenwood?”

She didn’t let Lubbers stop her flow. “Authorities believe the woman was killed elsewhere before being dumped sometime between Friday and Sunday night.”

“Caitie—”

“When asked if the suspects arrested in the Friday raid of the nearby Bro-duce Organic Farm had anything to do with the girl’s death, officials from the FBI refused to comment.”

“Caitie, we haven’t even spoken to anyone yet.”

“I know, Mary. Lakshmi, email that to the Indianapolis FBI tip line.”

Lakshmi typed away. “What subject?”

Caitlin smiled. “ ‘Special Agent Foreman—please confirm.’ ”

She heard the swoosh sound of Lakshmi’s electric volley being bumped into the ether.

“Think it’ll work?” Mary said.

A far-off boom announced the superiority of Channel 2’s weather predictions. Definitely more rain on the way.

“Time will tell.”

Caitlin glanced back at the coroner’s van. Two techs carried a collapsible awning toward the penalty area.

Five minutes later, Lakshmi pointed toward the parking lot. “It worked.”

Special Agent Antoine Foreman jumped over a fence. “Who talked, Bergman? Your boyfriend?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Are you confirming Lakshmi Anjale’s story?”

“ ‘An unnamed source working with the Bloomington Police Department?’ If your fuck buddy Greenwood said something to you about this case, I’ll make sure he loses his badge.”

Caitlin nullified Foreman’s anger with calm. “Wasn’t Greenwood, but I’ll give you a hint. It’s a journalist working with the Bloomington Police Department who just happens to have an amazing ass and several awards to her name.”

“Who told you the body was dumped here between Friday and now?”

“Mary and I were sitting here Friday afternoon; Paige Lauffer’s body wasn’t. There was no break in the rain until today, so no one played soccer or cut the grass.”

“That doesn’t mean this isn’t the crime scene.”

Caitlin shrugged. “Kind of a weird place to kill a girl. Easy enough to dump her, though. Pull in, back up, toss the body. Sloppy, like someone was in a hurry. Maybe the police were raiding their property. Can you speculate whether the boys from the Bro-duce Organic Farm had anything to do with Paige Lauffer’s death?”

Foreman shook his head. “You’re done with the BPD. Renton may feel like eating your shit, but I don’t have to.”

“So you’re confirming that Paige Lauffer’s death is related to David Amireau and possibly the disappearance of Angela Chapman?”

Foreman stopped, his lesson learned. “There’ll be a press conference tomorrow morning. I don’t want to see you until then.”

Lightning flashed over the parking lot, filling in the shadows as Foreman walked away. Caitlin started counting. Seven seconds before the thunder.