I note how from here you’d only be able to see Angela from the dock if you got past the brush. I know I’ve got to get closer, but my body is rigid, wanting to wait safely in the car and watch from there. I swallow hard. Jamal needs my help, and stopping isn’t an option.

My heart races as I approach. I study all the access points to the dock. Three locations stand out: the parking lot; the walking trails; and the path leading to the South Seafood Packing building.

When I move in a little closer, I have a better view of the old building. On the other side is a small parking lot that’s so overgrown you almost can’t tell it used to be a lot. I scan to see if there’s anyone else around me. It’s a ghost town so early in the morning.

If someone attacked Angela, there’s not many ways to get in and out of the Pike. This gives me hope other witnesses could come forward to tell the full story. New suspects to interview.

At the edge of the dock, I shiver at the thought that this is where Angela’s body was found. I stay well behind the police tape. On the dock I can see stains of what’s now dark-colored spots and one puddle. Must be from Angela. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I shouldn’t be here.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to Angela, knowing she’s beyond hearing me, but needing to say it anyway.

It’s a relief to turn away and study the parking lot. It would’ve been pitch-black. I struggle to find a reason that would draw her out to the dock alone. She must have been meeting someone. I just hope that it wasn’t Jamal and that there’s an explanation to his letterman jacket being left behind.

I’m struck by the police tape only marking around and near the dock, but nowhere past the grass or up toward the seafood packing building.

A few steps farther, hidden past the grass, is a footpath. There’s something…off about it. I move closer and realize the long grass is splattered with red marks, but no police tape. The murder happened less than a week ago.

The blood is easy to miss unless you step deep into the brush. If the police were certain Jamal killed Angela on the dock, then perhaps they got sloppy and didn’t search far enough? I take a few photos with my cell, then skirt around the area to avoid touching anything.

Squatting low, I notice two grooves, leading to more scuff marks by the building. Like someone was dragged. Fought and couldn’t get away. I blink quickly to take away the image of Angela. How scared she must have been, trying to fight for her life.