CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The forensic team, clad in HAZMAT suits, carefully brushed the dirt from the bodies, pausing now and again to take pictures with the camera mounted on a tripod nearby. Harley watched, arms folded, reminding herself to be patient.
The problem was, she had already been waiting for hours. The forensics van had gotten bogged down in a sinkhole, and they’d been forced to wait for a tow truck to pull them out. The afternoon was getting late, and Harley couldn’t help feeling discouraged that they were no closer to catching the killer than before.
“Anything interesting?” Callaway said, coming up behind her. He regarded the scene with a thoughtful expression.
“Hard to see much,” Harley answered. “I should have gotten better seats.”
The joke was in poor taste, and Harley regrett
