Page 37 of Rules

"Erin," I caught her eye, "this one got to be by the books, it could be connected to something much bigger."

A look of understanding came over her, "You got it."

I stand, grateful for her competence. "Brooklyn, can you get the EMTs? I want to talk to the Millers."

We separate, my mind races with implications. Sophia's body was dumped like trash. The stolen jewelry was deliberately placed on her. My gut is telling me this wasn't a random killing—it was a message. But from whom? And why?

The crowd has grown despite our efforts. Word travels fast in small towns. I spot several faces I recognize—business owners, morning joggers, retirees who probably called others to come and see the commotion. All watching, whispering, wondering.

The Millers sit on a park bench, Mrs. Miller clutching a handkerchief, her husband's arm around her shoulders. Their small fluffy brown dog sitting on her lap. They've lived in Whispering Pines for over forty years. Harold was on the school board when I was a teenager. They shouldn't have to see something like this in their twilight years.

"Mr. and Mrs. Miller." I sit beside them, trying to gentle my voice. "I know this is difficult, and that you told Deputy Edwards what happened but I need you to tell me too. Please."

Mrs. Miller dabs at her eyes. "We walk every morning, laps around the pond. Doctor's orders for Harold's heart." Her husband pats her hand. "We were on our first lap when Bruce, here," she stroked the dog's head, "he wouldn't come out of the grass. He was whining and barking and making quite a fuss. Harold went to pick him up, that's when he saw her."

Harold takes over. "But then we got closer and saw she wasn't moving. I told Maggie to come over, you know on account of the girl being naked." He swallows hard. "We called to her and I nudged her with my foot but we knew that poor girl was gone. We called 911 right away."

"Did you see anyone else? Any vehicles? Anything unusual at all?"

They look at each other, then shake their heads. "The park was empty when we arrived," Harold says. "Just us until those joggers showed up." He points to a couple in running gear talking to Deputy Sang.

"And you didn't touch anything?"

"No, sir." Harold straightens, his former military habits kicking in. "I know better than that."

"Thank you, you can go. I'll contact you if we have any other questions." Standing I move toward the growing crowd. People part as I approach, their conversations falling silent. I recognize several ladies from the morning church group. Great, Holly says they're faster than AT&T for spreading the word.

"Listen up, everyone." I raise my voice to carry. "I need statements from anyone who was in the park between six and seven-thirty this morning. Deputy Sang will take your information. If you arrived after the Millers found the body, youcan leave your name and number with Deputy Rogers. We may contact you later."

Questions start flying immediately.

"Sheriff, who is it?" "Was it murder?" "Is it connected to the break-ins?" "Is it true she's naked?"

I hold up my hand. "We're in the earliest stages of the investigation. I can't comment on the details right now. What I can say is that everyone should remain vigilant. Lock your doors. Be aware of your surroundings. Report anything suspicious."

A young woman wearing earbuds pushes forward. "I run here every morning. Is it safe?"

It's the question I've been dreading. The honest answer is I don't know. The break-ins are escalating with violence and now a murder. Connected how? By whom?

"Exercise caution. Use your best judgment. Run with a partner if possible. Stick to populated areas. Don't run in the dark." I meet her eyes directly. "And keep your phone charged and accessible."

Deputy Rogers appears at my side. "Sheriff, Erin and the coroner want you."

"Stay and help Sang." I excuse myself and head to the scene. Erin is crouched beside Sophia's body, now partially covered with a sheet. She looks up as I approach. I nod to Stu Johnson, the coroner.

"Take a look at this." Erin pulls back the sheet slightly, revealing Sophia's right hand. The fingernails are broken, with what appears to be skin caught underneath. "She fought back. Hard."

"Can we get DNA?"

"I hope so. But there's more." Erin points to faint marks on Sophia's wrists and ankles. "Ligature marks. She was bound before she was killed. And we're not convinced strangulation was the cause of death. No petechial hemorrhaging in theeyes. We're thinking it's asphyxiation, perhaps a plastic bag or something similar. We'll know more after the autopsy."

I process this information, each detail making the picture grimmer. "Timeline?"

"Based on lividity and body temperature, I'm putting the time of death between one AM and four AM. But she was dead before they dumped her here."

"How can you be sure?"

Stu speaks up, "No grass marks on her back. As the blood in the body settled, it would have made indents."

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