“Little League coach found her about an hour ago.” Stella gave him a summary while the forensic photographer snapped long-range, medium, and close-up shots from varying angles. When the photographs were complete, Frank moved closer. He lifted the victim’s hair. Bruises trailed down the left side of her face. “Insects have been busy, and it looks like someone used her as a punching bag.”

Stella’s legs weakened as she studied the women’s face.

It couldn’t be.

Brody touched her arm. “What’s wrong?”

Even with the bruising and insect activity, the woman looked familiar. Too familiar.

Stella’s stomach did a slow tumble. “I think I know her.”

Frank raised an eyebrow.

Hoping she was wrong, Stella moved toward the woman’s purse. With unsteady, gloved hands, she drew the zipper, pulled out a wallet, and opened it to view the woman’s driver’s license. Shock slid over her in a clammy wave. “Her name is Missy Green. We graduated high school together.”

“She was a friend?” Brody asked.

“Yes, but I haven’t seen her in a long time.” Stella noted her address was not the house where her parents had lived, but then, not many people still lived at home at thirty. Except Stella. “There’s thirty dollars cash in here, so she wasn’t robbed.”

“Is there a cell phone in her purse?” Brody asked.

Stella looked past the usual tissues, tampons, and lipstick and found a cheap cell. “Yes. Battery’s dead.”

“No obvious cause of death on initial inspection.” Frank lifted the woman’s arm. The limb moved with no resistance. “Rigor’s come and gone.” His gaze moved over the dugout. “The heat and moisture would have accelerated decomposition.” He frowned at the body. “She’s been dead at least thirty-six hours.” Frank tapped his assistant on the arm. “I doubt she’s been dead longer than three days, but I want live and dead maggots just in case.”

Stella breathed. The bugs always got to her.

Brody leaned close to her ear. “You can step away if you need to.”

She shook her head. “This is a small town. It isn’t the first time I’ve encountered someone I know.” Sadness clogged her throat as she corrected herself. “Knew.”

“Considering the hypodermic, overdose is a definite possibility,” Frank said.

“Did you look for track marks?” Stella asked.

“Her sleeves are snug. I don’t want to disturb her hands until after I’ve scraped under her nails.” Frank stepped back. “Not sure when I’ll get to her autopsy. We’re tied up with multiple victims from that residential house fire. I’ll call you.” Frank stood and signaled to his assistant.