Ryan rattled off an address just outside city limits.
“Patrol found him about twenty minutes ago. ME’s on the way.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
I hung up before he could say anything else.
When I arrived, the blue and red lights painted the trees in uneven flashes.
Half a dozen patrol cars blocked the dirt access road leading into an abandoned gravel lot, and crime scene tape fluttered lazily in the evening breeze, while uniforms kept curious neighbors back.
I ducked beneath the tape, flashing my badge more out of habit than necessity, really. Ryan met me halfway, but he didn’t say hello. He just looked at me cautiously.
“They found him behind the tree line, Sarge.”
I searched his face, trying to understand the careful tone.
“Do we know who he is?”
He hesitated.
“I think you might.”
The words hit harder than they should have. He turned without another word, and I followed with a feeling of lead growing in my stomach.
Every step felt heavier than the last, and the image of Allen’s unread texts flashed in my mind.
The woods swallowed the noise from the road until all I could hear were boots crunching over dry leaves and distant insects humming somewhere overhead. Then I saw the forensic markers.
One.
Two.
Three.
My pulse slowed because my body always did this.
Everything narrowed.
Every detail sharpened.
I became the scene.
No longer myself, but the SWAT officer.
Ryan stopped, and he pointed.
“He was left here.”
I stepped around him, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe.
A man lay on the forest floor, completely exposed to the evening sky. His skin was ghostly pale beneath the flashing lights. Someone had carefully placed him on his back, his arms resting at his sides with a precision that made my stomach churn.
There was no attempt to hide him.
No attempt to bury him.
He’d been displayed.
