Chives ends his call and walks toward her with his back hunched and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Years ago, when they first started working together, whether they were in the field or the office, he would always make an effort at pleasantries, asking about her day, about her family, before they switched over to business. But that was before. Ever since Mia went missing, ever since Nora divorced Jack, there is nothing to discuss but shell casings and blood spatter. He goes out of his way to be generous in other ways, but he’s always quiet about it. A Hallmark card on her desk for her birthday. A bottle of wine, its neck wrapped with a glittery bow, at Christmas. An invitation to dinner with his family now and then, always with the expectation she’ll say no. All these things and a dozen other kindnesses, despite the fact that she never offers any reciprocal gesture or even a thank you.

Chives watches her study the body for a minute before saying, “Found his wallet. No credit cards. Some small bills. And an expired driver’s license. Nat Campbell. Twenty-eight. Few priors for vagrancy, trespassing, and assault.”

“Tell me about the assault,” she says, still gazing at the body.

“Some mushroom-turf thing. Got into it with another picker about a year ago. Broke the guy’s nose and arm. That seems to be what they were doing out here. Harvesting. Bins on the trailer are full of paper bags, parchment paper, a beat-up pocket guide called All the Rain Promises and More. A few specialty knives too. Curved four-inch blade on one end, brush on the other.”

Her hand hovers over the dead face and makes a scooping gesture over the empty eye.

“Yep. Pretty much.” Chives coughs and says something about the smell and digs into his pocket for a small jar of Vicks. “So.” He rubs a smear beneath his nose. “What do you think, boss?”

“You suspect that our perp is female.”

“Whoever he was sharing that sleeping bag with, yeah.”

“I’m sure you already noted he was killed by a single stab to the heart. And there are no lacerations to the hands.”

“He didn’t feel threatened,” Chives says. “He didn’t put up a fight. He didn’t see what was coming. She was able to get real close and end him real fast.”

“And because no clothes appear to have been cut or pulled off him, you’re guessing he was naked at the time of the murder. Tucked into his sleeping bag. Perhaps because he and his partner were about to be intimate? That’s what you think, anyway.”

“Exactly.” He cocks his head and narrows his eyes as if to see her better. “But it sounds like you don’t think the same?”

“I’m still working out what I think.”