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“Okay. I’ll be right out. I need to freshen up.”
As she washed her face and brushed her teeth, the feeling that the day had gotten away from her and that it was time for bed already unsettled her.
“I hate this,” Will said, coming into the bedroom to change out of his suit. “I need to retire.”
“I know. I want you to, too.”
“The walk will help. I’m still hungry,” he said, laughing.
“We can eat again. One taco doeth not a meal make.” She redid her messy bun and turned to Will. “You ready?”
“We’d better bundle up. It’s freezing out there on the water.”
They donned winter coats, hats, and mittens. Heading north, they held hands, not talking, looking out over the black water, the reflection of the crescent moon keeping it from being too foreboding. A trawler pulling a lighted dinghy chugged along the horizon, the lonely echo of its diesel engine reaching the beach.
“Is that a seal?” Laura asked, pointing to a form a hundred feet ahead of them on the beach.
“A harbor seal, maybe,” Will said. “But it would be unusual for them to come up on the beach at night to sleep. They are nocturnal feeders.”
A sense of dread came over Laura as they approached the lifeless form.
“That’s no harbor seal,” Will said.
They picked up their pace to reach the lifeless body, facedown in the sand, naked.
“Got your phone? Call 9-1-1, sweetheart. Tell them the medical examiner is already with the body.”
He felt for a carotid pulse, just in case. The body was icy cold. The surf had retreated, so as long as the squad didn’t take too long to arrive, the danger of the body going back to sea was minimal. It was clear she’d washed up on the beach and not simply been placed there; the wrinkling of the skin of her hands and feet indicated she’d been submerged for hours. Hair was swept over the side of her face, hiding her identity.
“I wonder if it’s Lily,” Laura said.
In five minutes, a police cruiser with two uniformed officers had arrived, and in ten, the rescue squad and an unmarked car.
“Sir.” The EMT nodded at Will.
“You got gloves I can use?” Will asked. “I’ll come better prepared the next time we take a beach hike.”
They donned gloves, and with the help of the EMT, a black body bag next to the body, they turned her over—and looked into the face of Lily Porter.
“Yikes,” Will said, pointing to a black hole between Lily’s eyes as he squatted next to the body. “Someone got a flashlight?”
Crime scene investigators were setting up lights around the area, but meanwhile, Laura turned on the light on her phone and directed the beam at Lily’s face.
“See this? Stippling. The gun was close, at least two feet from her face.”
“Did she drown or die from a gunshot wound?” Laura asked.
“Good question. I’ll find out tonight,” he said, looking up at her. “I’d like to do the post as soon as possible. Cold water slows down decomposition, but the moment the body is removed, it speeds up.”
“Can I come? I mean for the post?”
“Yes.”
“How’d you get here so fast?” It was Henry Wong, the detective on call that night. When he realized it was Laura, he acknowledged her.
“We live just south of here,” Will said. He nodded toward the body. “This yours?”
“Nope. If it’s a homicide, it’ll be Alan Stone’s. But I’m the unlucky guy on call. I’ll get him out of bed for the post if you’re doing it tonight.”
