Poor Dena.

A black satchel-type purse sat on the bench next to her. Just like Missy, bruises colored the left side of Dena’s face. More purple marks were visible on the pale, pale skin of her body. She sat upright, but the skin along her back was stained purple. Before being positioned on the bench, she’d laid on her back long enough for lividity to set in. “She didn’t die here.”

She’d been positioned after death, just like Missy.

Frank moved closer. He pointed to her wrists. Under the nylon rope, bruises darkened her skin. “She was restrained.” He bent low to squint at her battered hands. “Do we know who she is?”

“Her name is Dena Miller.” Stella’s gaze traveled from Dena’s smashed fingers to the rope burns on her ankles and wrists. “She’s been missing since Wednesday afternoon.” Stella stared at the silk scarf. She kept her voice low. “This whole scene was carefully staged.”

“Yes.” Frank propped one hand on his hip and the other on the back of his head as he glared at the body. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Stella stepped up to stand next to him. “This is exactly like Missy Green’s death.”

“Don’t say it.” Frank looked over his shoulder.

Stella followed his gaze to a news crew climbing out of their van. She signaled a uniform to keep them far away from the scene. He nodded and moved in, hands spread and palms out. A lollypop-thin brunette newswoman cocked a hip in irritation.

“Do not imply these two cases are related,” Frank warned. “The media will broadcast that Scarlet Falls has a you-know-what.”

Stella nodded, but anger surged in her veins. The news media shouldn’t dictate her discussion with the medical examiner. But Frank was absolutely right. If the press got any wind of any possible similarities between the deaths, the words serial killer would be scrolling across the next special bulletin. The chief would have a coronary, the mayor would implode, and Stella would be writing parking tickets for the rest of her career.

“The deaths have commonalities.” Frank prodded her with an elbow. “But let’s not jump to conclusions.”

Stella tilted her head and raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

Frank raised a palm. “I know. We know the truth, but we can’t tell everybody. Not yet.”

She stared at Dena. “The way he left her . . .” The careful planning, the positioning, the scarf. This hadn’t been a dump and run. “It took some time.”

Just like Missy’s body had originally been staged.