Page 27 of Playing With Temptation

One found in a pond was worse, putting the police at a disadvantage.

Having that body found by a nearby homeowner’s dog in the early morning hours was seriously fucked up.

Ethan met me at the trail leading down a gravel path to the larger of the two ponds the park offered. The first was a small water feature with a large grassy area in front of it. The space was available to rent for special events. The second was a large pond available for catch and release fishing, and even though it wasn’t allowed, teenagers were known to take a dip in the murky water. Something I’d done myself back in high school.

“The coroner estimates one to three days,” Ethan didn’t delay in informing me. “Fingers, palms, and feet are waterlogged, but decomp hasn’t started.”

One to three days.

Fucking hell.

School was back in session, but that didn’t mean Bryant Park pond wasn’t still popular for fishing. And if not fishing, the walking trails around the pond and the dog park were used daily. And for one to three fucking days a body had been in that pond.

That thought gave me a shiver despite the sticky, already oppressive humidity.

“If you want to see her, do that now. Anna and her team are getting ready to load her up.”

Anna Grant was the coroner for Liberty County. Seeing as the county was small, we didn’t have a dedicated ME. All unexpected or suspicious deaths are transported to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation Division of Forensic Science. One of the GBI’s medical examiners would perform the autopsy.

Not only did Anna need to get on the road, but she also needed to get the body into the back of her van before the rain started. And by the look and feel of it, that was going to start any minute. But still it was surprising the coroner was ready to roll out so quickly.

“Let’s go,” I said, then asked, “Where’s the homeowner?”

Ethan jerked his head to the right. My gaze went in the direction he indicated. Even though the sun was rising, officers wandered around the pond, shining their flashlights at the dirt and patches of grass near the water’s edge. Beyond them was a man in a pair of athletic shorts and a white t-shirt, holding onto the collar of a golden retriever, talking to two uniformed officers.

“Jase,” Anna greeted, with a smile as soon as she saw me.

The woman wasn’t smiling because at her feet lay a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, with short black hair—and the only way I knew it was black and not dark brown was because the patch I could see was darker than the mud-caked strands. And thank fuck the woman was clothed. Not that her jeans and short-sleeved red cotton shirt ruled out sexual assault, but they were at least a dignity, albeit a really fucking small one.

Anna was smiling simply because that was Anna. Five forty-five in the morning or eleven forty-five in the evening, the woman always wore a smile—albeit, not a happy one, but a grin, nonetheless.

“Mornin’ Anna,” I returned, “Got anything for us?”

“Just what I told Ethan. She’s been in the water at least a day, three at most. The discoloration around her neck is from trauma, not early decomposition. The ME will have to examine her to give you exact COD. However, the bruising around her throat suggests she was manually strangled. Whether that led to her death is unknown.”

“ID?” I inquired.

“Nothing on her person,” Ethan answered.

There was something vaguely familiar about her.

“I’ve seen this woman before. I just can’t remember where.”

I pulled a small Maglite out of my pocket, turned it on, and took a moment to study the woman, hoping something would jog my memory. I counted four silver necklaces around her neck. A stylish silver watch on her left wrist. Two rings on her left hand—middle finger and thumb. My gaze went to her right hand, four rings—all different in size and shape, but all silver.

She looked to be average height, slim, and very dead.

I couldn’t place where I’d seen her.

“If you’re done, Detectives, I’d like to get her up to Pooler.” Anna might’ve framed that as a request for us to finish up, and she might’ve been a sweet older woman, but the reality of it was it was a demand.

She had retired from the GBI before she’d run for the county coroner position and won by a landslide due to her previous employment as the chief medical examiner. Meaning, she understood the importance of getting the woman off the dirt and into an autopsy suite ASAP.

“What’s your take?” I asked.

Anna glanced down at the woman. “Strangulation. There’s no mud under her nails. If she was drowned in this pond, there would’ve been a struggle, and a whole lot of mud and debris under her nails.” She looked back up and continued. “Unless she was unconscious during the drowning.”

I glanced back down and focused on her throat. There were perfect patterns from the chains she wore around her neck. She’d been wearing them while being choked. The force needed to make those impressions could either kill or render her unconscious.