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Sun filters through the tree canopy, but does nothing to stave off the December chill in the air. Labored breaths come out in small white clouds as Pepper picks up speed. She zigzags in short bursts for one, two, three strides before her direction has a focal point.
And then she stops, sniffs the ground, lifts her head an inch from the earth, and barks at her discovery.
“Brav, Officer Pepper.” I step to her side. “Sitz.Bleib.” I aim a finger at the ground, then show her my palm, directing her to sit and stay.
I squat down and study the foliage blanketing the terrain, visually sifting through each leaf, twig, and needle. But I have yet to find what grabs Pepper’s attention.
With careful, deliberate movements, I brush aside leaves and needles. Gingerly shift sticks and small branches out of the way. Stone Bay has yet to see its first snowfall of the season, and I am grateful for one less obstruction.
Beneath a needled bundle of Ponderosa pine cones, a faded piece of paper snags my attention.
Digging in my coat pocket, I pull out an evidence bag and open it. I pick up what looks to be the corner of washed-out yellow cardstock, a hint of something darker near the tear. Dropping it in the bag, I flip it around to look at the other side. More bleached than the other side of the card, I see faint lines of two or three letters.
Again and again, I study one side then the other.
“Argh!” I bellow out, my frustration echoing through the trees. “This cannot be a coincidence. It has to be a clue.” I turn the bag over in my hand once more. “But what?What is this?”
I seal the bag, fill out the identifying information on the front, then stow it in my pocket. Rising to my full height, I hook Pepper’s leash on my arm and say, “Such,” telling her to search once more.
The sun shifts overhead as we trudge through the forest. We pass the location where the victim lay, nothing. We walk along the base of the mountains, nothing. We take a more southern path back to the car, nothing.
But we aren’t leaving empty-handed.
I only hope forensics is able to figure out what this paper is or where it came from. And if we are damn lucky, maybe it will have a hint of DNA in its fibers.
“What am I looking at, Emerson?” Chief asks, his tone severe as he stares at the scrap of paper in the evidence bag.
I swallow down the expansive ball of anxiety in my throat, square my shoulders, and hold my father’s gaze. “Officer Pepper and I returned to the crime scene and did another sweep of the area. This was thirty feet east of the boulder under some brush.”
An exasperated huff leaves his lips as he tosses the bag on his desk. “Thisevidencecould be one of a thousand things.” The word “evidence” is laced with disbelief and ridicule. As if there is no fathomable wayIwould ever find something on my own. “A piece of a hiking map. Litter from the highway. The corner of a takeout box.”
Pain erupts in my palms as I curl my fingers into tight fists, my blunt nails biting my flesh.
“Why is it so hard to believe?” The question comes out harsher than intended. But I don’t apologize. Nor do I stand down. “Why don’t you have faith in a damn thing I do?”
Dark eyes pin me in place, but I don’t waver. I glare at him with evenly matched frigidity.
For once, would it kill him to say,“Great job, Travis.”? Would it be so difficult to give me a pat on the back and praise me for my discovery or effort?
Hell, with a rookie badge pinned to his shirt, Jacob is the opposite of serious. When an opening presents itself, Jacob is the first to make a joke—clean or far from appropriate for work. Yet our father manages to reward his shitty work and behavior with smiles and positive recognition in front of the department. He lifts him up while he buries me deep.
And I am so fucking tired of people making me feel less than to serve themselves.
“Watch your tongue, Emerson,” he warns.
I take a step in his direction. “Show some respect, and maybe I will,Emerson.” With a shake of my head, I add, “Time to redefine your double standards. If you’re going to treat me like trash for busting my ass, I better see the same with every other person in this building. If not, prepare to be more furious with your most disliked child.”
The muscles in his jaw flex as he picks up the evidence bag from his desk and thrusts it my way. “Log this in the system, then have it analyzed. Report back to me with the findings.”
And just like that, we are back to business as usual.
I snatch the bag from his hand, spin on my heel, and move toward the door with thunder in my step. “Fine.”
Ignoring everyone I pass in the bullpen, I sit at my desk and log the evidence in the system. With my eyes on the computer screen, I feel Wooler’s questioning stare on my profile. But I refuse to acknowledge her. It will only lead to questions I am too fired up to answer.
Once the evidence is with forensics, I fetch Pepper and walk out the front door. Nogoodbyeorsee you tomorrow. I leave without a word.
The drive from the station to home is a blur. After stripping off my uniform and slipping into comfortable clothes, I spend time outside with Pepper, praise her for her work today, then reward her with treats.
