The sole female in the small SFPD, Officer Stella Dane stood on the periphery writing on a clipboard. She turned serious blue eyes on him. “The medical examiner should be here any minute.”

Brody’s gaze shifted to the body. The victim lay on her back, her arms flung out. His gaze fell on her face. Disgust segued into anger. The victim’s features were pulp, and her skull partially smashed. She was dressed in a gray “I Love NY” sweatshirt and a light jacket. The bottom half of her body was naked, but dead pine needles, leaves, and loose dirt partially covered her. She didn’t seem to be positioned in any particular way. Her body looked truly dumped.

He allowed himself one brief Who could do this to another human being? before settling back to work. He couldn’t bring her back to life, but he could catch the guilty bastard and make sure he never hurt another woman.

“Those kids found her?” Brody asked.

“Yes,” Stella said.

“Did they say why they were here?”

“They were taking a drive,” Stella deadpanned. Kids came to the rail yard to engage in one or more of the teenage triple threat: booze, drugs, and sex. “The boy said he walked out here to relieve himself and nearly stepped on the remains. I didn’t press them or search their vehicle. They could have hightailed it out of here, but they chose to do the right thing and report the find. Besides, they’ve been traumatized enough today.”

“Agreed,” Brody said.

His gaze swept over the ground, still spongy from a rainstorm the previous day. Two empty water bottles and a Styrofoam fast food container had blown up against the knobby tire. Dirt and scratches covered all three items, as if they’d been here a while. Except the random litter, nothing appeared out of the ordinary—other than the presence of a corpse. He spied a cigarette butt. “Is the county CSI team on the way?”

“Yes.” Stella checked her watch. “They should be here any time.”

With limited resources and a small police force, Scarlet Falls relied on Randolph County and the state police for assistance.

The afternoon had been warm and sunny, and blowflies had found the body. Ignoring a swarm of insects, Brody leaned in for a closer look at the victim. He looked past her ruined face. He saw no obvious or visible knife or bullet wounds on the body, as if the trauma to the head wasn’t enough. Under splatters of mud, a rusty stain discolored the front of her shirt. Blood. Pine needles and a dead oak leaf matted her long dark hair. She was slender and small to average in size. Bruises mottled her legs. A small heart tattoo adorned her right hip. Though her face was battered beyond recognition, her body seemed young.