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The victim's pockets were turned out, yet in one, a peculiar weight drew her attention. She frowned, reaching out and feeling a strange bulge. She pulled out a small plastic bag.
Ethan whistled.
A pile of gold nuggets, incongruous against the blood-soaked fabric.
"Gold?" she muttered under her breath, disbelief mingling with the seed of suspicion. Who would kill for gold, only to leave it behind?
The heat bore down, mirroring the pressure within. She needed answers. Every second, the crime scene whispered its secrets, and Rachel knew she had to listen closely. The town might be silent, but the dead had stories to tell.
"Get the CSU team here," she instructed, standing up and scanning the expanse of the ghost town. Motives festered in places like this, hidden beneath layers of dirt and history.
"Will do," came the response, the officer already backing away, eager to distance himself from death's chill.
Rachel Blackwood's gaze swept over the rough terrain, the bristly chaparral and looming mine shafts a stark backdrop to the grim task at hand. The soil beneath her boots was damp, a testament to recent rains that had churned the dust into mud. She moved with purpose, her eyes hawk-like, scrutinizing each inch of ground as she circled the beaver dam.
"Someone came through here," she murmured, more to herself than to Ethan, who hovered at a respectful distance, taking photos of the scene. Her fingers brushed over impressions in the mud—footprints. "And recently."
Ethan craned his neck, trying to see what she saw.
"Women's," she confirmed, her tone clipped. The tracks were delicate, size seven at most, with the distinctive tread of a hiking boot.
"Victim's?"
"No. Too fresh. Wrong size. Wrong tread."
"So another woman?"
Officer Ortiz was on the phone, further back, but Ethan was frowning at her. The two of them seemed to reach the same conclusion simultaneously.
"Women's?" Ethan said. "What was the name of the guy who found the body?"
"James Veely. Doesn't sound like a female name to me."
She followed the trail of footprints, watching how it meandered close to where the corpse lay, then veered off towards the remnants of the town. Someone had been here, someone unexpected.
"James," she said, the name like a summons. "I need to talk to him."
Ethan was frowning at the small bag of gold nuggets. "Why leave those behind?"
She knelt beside the beaver dam, its sticks and mud incongruous with the glinting metal. With gloved fingers, she cradled the substantial pile of gold nuggets, their luster undimmed by the blood that stained them.
"Why carry this much on you unless..."
"Unless you don't trust anyone," Ethan finished for her, his gaze locked onto the gleaming pile. "Or you're about to close a deal."
"Or run." The thought settled into Rachel's mind, as heavy as the gold she held.
"Could be a transaction gone wrong," Ethan suggested, squinting against the sun's glare reflecting off the nuggets.
"Or someone knew she had it on her," Rachel countered, her brain piecing together potential scenarios. "Jealousy, revenge, fear... They all lead back to one thing here."
"Gold." Ethan's confirmation was terse, his eyes not leaving the body.
"Everyone's got a motive when there's enough gold to go around." Rachel's thoughts churned.
"Let's get these to the lab," Ethan said, standing up and brushing the dirt from his knees. "They might tell us more than we know now."
Rachel nodded, also standing.
