The crime scene was eerily quiet when Daryl and Kyle arrived.
The field stretched wide, overgrown with weeds and abandoned vehicles rusting under the morning sun.
A few officers were already there, marking off areas with bright yellow tape.
Daryl’s eyes immediately landed on the body.
The victim lay sprawled on the ground, his face half-covered in dirt, his clothes disheveled. The bullet wound to the head was unmistakable—clean, precise.
Kyle crouched beside the body, tilting his head as he examined the scene. “Execution-style,” he muttered. “Whoever did this didn’t want him talking.”
Daryl nodded. “And they didn’t kill him here.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
Daryl gestured at the ground. “No blood splatter. If he was shot here, there’d be more of a mess. But the body was
