Page 81 of Rules

"She wasn't killed here," I observed, noting the absence of blood spatter on the door. "Body was posed."

"Like a mannequin," Brooklyn agreed. "Whoever did this took their time, arranged her just so."

"Maybe suggesting they cared about her?" Sang added. "Maybe this was a crime of passion?"

"Yeah, what a better place to make sure she's found," Rogers said. "They cared enough not to leave her in a ditch somewhere."

The sound of tires on gravel announced more arrivals. Erin's forensics van pulled up, followed by Law's SUV.

"Heard this was where you all were," Law explained as he approached, Ferris looming behind him like a shadow. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the victim. "Well, that's a change, having people delivered to the funeral home."

Erin bustled past, her team in tow. "Move aside, gentlemen. Let the science through."

As she set up her equipment, I stepped back, taking in the bigger picture. The funeral home sat at the edge of town, backing up to a wooded area. The service road provided easy access without being visible from the main street. The killer could have arrived and departed without being seen.

"Ever seen her before?" I asked everyone quietly.

They all shook their heads no with Brooklyn adding, "Never. But that dress isn't from around here. That's a high-end designer dress."

Law moved closer, studying the victim. "If you can give me the make and designer plus a picture of her face I can have Mouse and Keyboard start a search. Maybe we can find out who she is."

Sang moved closer, studying the victim. "What's the significance of the two roses?"

Everyone was silent.

"Symbolism?" Brooklyn suggested.

"Or a signature," Law countered.

"A couple in love?" Ferris offered. Erin glanced over her shoulder.

"It's odd," I stated.

Erin's voice interrupted our speculation. "Sheriff, you might want to see this."

She pointed to the woman's hands, folded so neatly in her lap. "No defensive wounds. Nails are perfect. She either knew her killer or was restrained before the shot. But I'm leaning towardknowing the killer as there aren't any marks on her wrists or ankles."

"I agree," I added.

"There's more," Erin continued, lifting the woman's hair slightly with a gloved hand. "See this mark?"

A small tattoo, no bigger than a quarter, sat just behind her right ear: a stylized oriental mark with what looked like a crown above it.

"What's the symbol?" I asked but Erin just shrugged her shoulders.

"Hey, have any of you seen this mark before?" I addressed Law and the others.

"No," Brooklyn echoed everyone who looked before her.

"Get a good picture, we need to know what that symbol stands for," I told her. "Give it to Law along with the others."

Dr. Renfield, a gray-haired man who'd served the county for decades, huffed his way over to the scene.

"Goodness," he observed grimly. "I bet she didn't take an Uber." His booming laugh caused several to jump. "Now you have to admire that," he bent over at the waist putting his face extremely close to the dead woman's. He blew out a whistle, "A clean, clean shot. Someone knows their guns. Something bigger would have made a giant messy hole. This, this is precise. Yes, sir, this person knew a pretty little thing like her would need a beautiful clean shot."

Glancing around everyone has the same expression: mouths open, eyes wide. Which is exactly how I looked.

"Aww, yes, Erin," Dr. Renfield peered up. "I didn't see you standing there. Good to see you, good to see you. What have you found so far?"

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