Christian Eastwick stepped out of his car, the creak of the door swallowed by the oppressive silence that hung over the scene. The air was thick, suffused with a metallic tang that clawed its way into his nostrils and settled on his tongue like rust. Pine trees loomed in the distance, their skeletal branches clawing at the bruised sky, as if they too recoiled from what lay beneath them. A pale mist clung to the edges of the crime scene, curling around the boots of the gathered law enforcement like a living thing, reluctant to part with its secrets.
The body—or what remained of it—was splayed across the dirt, an obscene tableau of violence and violation. Rachel Martinez. Her name whispered itself in Christian's mind, unbidden and unrelenting, pulling at the frayed edges of his composure. T
