Officers on duty always called in. It was imprinted into their DNA. If you grabbed coffee, peed, or spied a burglary in progress, you called it in. Meaning whatever had brought Trooper Lyons to this remote destination hadn’t been professional, but personal.

“Single GSW,” Detective Parker continued. “Left temple. Shot fired from the front seat. Trooper Lyons was in the back.”

D.D. startled. Bobby, as well.

Seeing their looks, Detective Parker waved them over to the cruiser, which sat with all four doors open. He started with the bloodstain in the backseat, then worked backwards for the trajectory of the shot.

“He was wearing his duty belt?” Bobby asked with a frown.

Parker nodded. “Yes, but there are marks on his wrists consistent with restraints. Bracelets were no longer present when the first officer arrived, but at some point this evening, Trooper Lyons’s hands were cuffed.”

D.D. didn’t like that image—a bound officer, sitting in the back of his cruiser, staring down the barrel of a gun. She hunkered deeper inside her winter coat, feeling cold snowflakes whisper across her eyelashes.

“His weapon?” she asked.

“Sig Sauer is in his holster. But check this out.”

Parker led them around to the rear of the cruiser, where he popped the trunk. It was empty. D.D. instantly understood the significance. No cop, uniformed or otherwise, had an empty trunk. There should be some basic supplies, not to mention at least a rifle or shotgun or both.

She glanced at Bobby for confirmation. “Remington shotgun and M4 rifle are standard issue,” he muttered, nodding. “Somebody was looking for weapons.”

Parker studied both of them, but neither she nor Bobby said another word. It went without saying between them who that somebody was, a person who knew Trooper Lyons, could lure him out to his cruiser, and desperately needed fire power.

“Trooper Lyons’s family?” Bobby asked now.

“Colonel went over to notify.”

“Shit,” Bobby murmured.

“Three boys. Shit,” Parker agreed.

D.D.’s cellphone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was local, so she excused herself to answer.

A minute later, she returned to Bobby and Parker.

“Gotta go,” she said, tapping Bobby lightly on the arm.

He didn’t ask, not in front of the other detective. He simply shook Parker’s hand, thanked him for his time, then they were off.

“Who?” Bobby asked, once they were out of hearing.

“Believe it or not, Shane’s widow. She has something for us.”

Bobby arched a brow.

“Envelope,” D.D. clarified. “Apparently, Shane handed it to her Sunday evening. Said if anything happened to him, she was to call me, and only me, and hand it over. Colonel has just left. The widow is now complying with her husband’s final wishes.”