"I know. But right now there’s someone else that needs our help."

Jo nodded then hopped into the Crown Vic with Kevin. Sam started up the Tahoe and headed toward the river. The loud gunshots from the twenty-one-gun salute rang in his ears as he drove past the wrought-iron gates and out of the cemetery.

Chapter Two

Jo must have broken the speed limit on her way to the river, because when Sam emerged from the woods to the side of the river, she was already ankle deep in water and squatting over the body. John Dudley from the county coroner’s office was crouched beside her.

The body had washed up in the shallow part of the Sacagewassett River. The river was a lazy river that wound its way down from the Canadian border and through town. Since it was early May, the river was high with runoff from the snowy mountains. Some small sections of the river had white water that attracted rafters. Other sections ran slower, better for canoeists. The section that ran along the Rock Ledge campground flowed at a medium pace because the area was wide and shallow.

Sam figured the body had come from somewhere upstream and gotten caught up on the rocks and branches in this shallow sandbar.

He splashed across the water, which saturated his newly polished black leather oxfords and wicked up the bottoms of his navy-blue dress uniform pants. They had worn their best uniforms out of respect for Tyler today. Normally, they dressed more casually.

Sam navigated the slippery rocks, the cold water freezing his ankles. Raising his eyes from the smooth, round stones, he risked a glance north at the mountain range. In the distance, layers of blue mountains, some still with white snow peaks, jutted up into the cloudless blue sky. He inhaled the smell of fresh running water, cleansing his mind before he had to deal with the grim scene before him. The clicking of Kevin’s camera as he recorded the various aspects of the death scene added an oddly mechanical feel to the natural sounds of rushing water and twittering birds.

Jo moved aside as he approached, giving Sam a full view of the body. Sam felt a mixture of guilt and relief. It wasn’t a kid, but the now-lifeless body was still someone’s child. It was a young woman in her midtwenties. She wore only a pair of thin white cotton undies, and Sam thought she hadn’t been in the river long, judging by the looks of things. Sam guessed about five or six hours.

"What do you think?" Sam asked.

Jo squinted up at him. John kept examining the body. Kevin kept snapping pictures. From what he could see of the body, Sam didn’t know if this was an accident or something more sinister. If it was the latter, the water would have washed away key evidence. He hoped it was the former, but the burning in his gut told him otherwise.

"Hard to tell." John pointed at the side of the head where there was an obvious injury, though the water had washed away the blood that Sam knew would have otherwise been caked in the victim’s hair.

"She might’ve died from a head wound. Could have slipped and fallen into the water, been knocked unconscious, drowned, and been carried downstream," John said.

They all looked upstream, where the water was rushing faster. Here, it had slowed down in the spot where the river widened and got curvy. Though the river wasn’t very deep, you could still drown in an inch of water.

"Foul play?" Sam glanced back at the small crowd that had gathered on the bank just near the campground. People stood with their arms wrapped around themselves, a buzz of anxiety rising from the crowd as they whispered to each other while shuffling from foot to foot.

This early in the season, the campground wasn’t very crowded. Things didn’t really get rolling up north until after Memorial Day. The way Sam saw it, that could be good and bad. Good because there were fewer people to interview. Bad because there were fewer people that might have seen something that would tell them what happened.

"Hard to tell." John put a medieval-looking instrument back in the black bag he’d set on top of a rock and then looked up at Sam. "I have to get her back to the morgue and do an autopsy to know for sure."

Sam nodded. "Sure seems weird that she’s only got her underwear on."

Jo tilted her head to look at the side of the victim’s skull. "Maybe she went skinny dipping and hit her head."

"Who wears their underwear skinny dipping?" Sam eyed the gash in her skull. He doubted a fall would cause that amount of damage.

EMTs had arrived and splashed across the water toward them. John nodded to them, and they unrolled a piece of canvas that they would use to carry the body to the stretcher waiting at the riverbank. As they lifted up the body, someone screamed.

"Oh my God, it’s Lynn!"

Jo stood, her eyes narrowing in on the screamer. She was studying her. That was Jo’s area of expertise. Human behavior. Sam, on the other hand, was all about the evidence. He liked to take his time. Turning all the clues over in his mind to find that missing link, the oddity, the thing that gave the killer away. Jo focused on the human side. The way they acted, body language, and what they said and did. Between the two of them, they had a high success rate at catching criminals.

"Guess we know who to talk to first." Sam glanced back at John. "Are we done here?"

"Yep."

"Pictures?" Sam glanced at Kevin, who nodded, indicating he was done taking pictures.

John started across the river after the EMTs. "I’ll call you with the results."

Sam, Jo, and Kevin started toward the crowd gathered on the riverbank.

"Kevin, you get names and phone numbers from everyone. Talk to Ellie and find out if anyone saw anything." Ellie was the campground manager. Sam had known her since he was a teenager. "Jo, you and I will go talk to the screamer. We’ll meet you back at the station later, Kev."

Sam sucked in a breath and followed Jo toward the group of campers. He hoped to hell the girl in the river had died by accident, but his instincts told him otherwise. And if his instincts were right, one of the people in that group could be a cold-blooded killer.

Chapter Three

The screamer, a blonde named Amber Huffman, was huddled with five other people all about the same age. Friends on a camping trip, Sam guessed.

"Did you know her?" Jo glanced back toward the river.

Their faces were solemn as they nodded.

"I think that’s our friend Lynn Palmer," a girl with straight brown hair and a smattering of freckles said between sniffs.

Jo looked at the group with sympathy. "Are you camping here?"

"Yeah, back there." A tall guy nodded his head toward the campground.

"Maybe we should go back there and talk," Jo suggested. She herded them back toward the campground. They walked alongside her in a daze. Sam hung back, watching. They all appeared stunned by the discovery of their friend’s body.

Jo took out a small pad and pencil and started writing down information, pausing every so often to swat at the swarm of black flies that had decided she’d make a good breakfast. She went through the group, asking their names and addresses, gathering little bits of information. Sam knew she was also studying them like a hawk. Looking for a twitch here or an eye jerk there that would indicate they had something to hide.

While Jo was asking the pertinent questions, Sam looked around the campsite. It was typical of what you might expect from a camping crowd of people in their early twenties. The equipment was adequate, the same kinds of things Sam would’ve used when he was that age. Canvas tents, Coleman lanterns, and stoves. A blue tarp stretched over each tent indicated these were experienced campers. Anyone who had camped for a few seasons knew you prepared for rain even when no clouds were in sight. Once your camping gear got wet, it never dried out.