In an alley off of Central Street, I ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. Already, there was a curious crowd gathering and some entry-level cops holding them back. Police lights spun, flashing off the stone walls.
I caught Zinnia's scent before I saw her, leaning against the alley wall. Another detective had his hand on her shoulder.
She was crying.
“Zinnia," I said, stepping up behind her and touching her shoulder.
She tensed. “Oh, Gen, you're here!" she turned to me and hugged me, clinging to my neck as a sob shook her.
“This is a bad one," the other detective said. He motioned deeper into the alley.
I looked into the darkness, my eyes adjusting quickly. There were forensic specialists moving around, collecting evidence. The body was covered but I could tell the victim'
