The next morning Madison still wondered why she'd ever agreed to look into the death of Kevin Thorne. But Vilma had pleaded and said that he'd only been twenty-seven when he'd died last month, and the ruling that it was suicide had to have been a mistake. She was probably just in denial, which was only made worse because the funeral was today. But suicide doesn't come with the same closure as a natural or accidental death. It leaves behind a myriad of haunting questions. Did I miss seeing something? Could I have helped? If I had done this or that, would he still be here?

Madison flicked a pen across her desk and thought about how the interaction had changed the direction of her day. She hadn't accomplished much with her cold case, and it had kept her up most of the night. She knew who was behind the murder, but she had to prove who pulled the trigger.

The victim was a defense attorney who had been gunned down in his driveway after failing to come through for his client, Dimitre Petrov, a Russian Mafia boss. Dimitre was sent away on a life sentence for a single murder, a joke since the man's hands were stained with the blood of many others. With him behind bars, she knew he wasn't physically involved, but she believed he'd ordered the hit. It was a matter of proving her theory and which of his right-hand men were responsible—and all that beyond a doubt to the district attorney and subsequent jury.

The bit of evidence she focused on these days came down to two envelopes, both with an infinity symbol woven into the stationery. A piece of one was found next to the dead lawyer and Dimitre Petrov had sent her a letter in another just like it. She knew her partner would mock her and accuse her of reaching, but she would gather every little thing she could if it would keep the Mafia boss behind bars for the rest of his natural life and get some of his men off the streets.

"So, what did I miss yesterday?" Terry came in holding two Starbucks, and he was grinning.

She closed the internet browser with the list of printing companies. That was as far as she'd gotten again today, and the way things were going around there, she might have to work on this at home. "You heard," she said. His grin had given him away. She took a cup he extended to her.

"Oh yeah." He started laughing. "I'd say eccentric, but everyone said she didn't appear to have any money." He spun his index finger around his right ear. "Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs."

Madison laughed. "You have such a way with words."

"You're jealous of me." He sipped his coffee and then put it on his desk. "Seriously though. Coming at you, all upset, and screaming, 'He didn't do it!'" He steepled his hands. "What didn't he do? Spill it."

"Kill himself."

Terry sobered. "Oh. That's disappointing."

"Disappointing? A man's dead."

"Well, I thought maybe she was going to say the butler didn't do it. I don't know. I just expected something better."

"She says her fiancé never would have killed himself." As Madison verbalized the situation out loud, she found more empathy for Vilma.

"If I had a penny every time I've heard that—"

"You've heard that before?"

"Nope, not really, just thought I'd bug you with a cliché. Too bad it didn't work." He pouted.

"Terry, I'm going to kill you." She rose and lunged toward him.

He took off in a slow jog with his Starbucks. "First you'll have to catch me."

She hated running more than she hated beer—and that was saying a lot—but she would catch him, and then he'd stop laughing. At least that was her goal until her sergeant, Garry Winston, rounded the corner.

He was scowling, with his hands on his hips, his round belly becoming more pronounced with the stance. "Don't you two have work to do?"

She and Terry stopped moving.

"We're a little slow this morning." She felt her cheeks heat.

"As I can see. Well, now you're not. A body was been found at nine twenty-three Weber Street."

"That's a residential area." Terry drank some coffee like they hadn't just been busted fooling around.

"You're a genius, Einstein," the sarge stated sardonically and added, "The remains were found in the backyard. Of a house." He seemed to add the latter part for the purpose of mocking Terry. "Some poor sap thought it would be a good time to turn the dirt in his garden and came up with a finger on the point of his shovel."

It seemed a little early to start on a garden, given it was only March. They often had warmer springs in Stiles than in more northern states, but she would have guessed the ground would still be hard. Cold soil could have preserved the remains though. First to verify what they were looking at... "Originally you said 'body,' then 'remains.' I'm to assume there's flesh?" Madison asked.

"There's flesh."

"Do we know if the remains are male or female?"

"It's looking like a female based on the finger they unearthed." He paused there and let his gaze drift over them. "Don't tell me you're both still standing here. You were moving quicker a moment ago."

"Leaving now." Madison hurried to her desk for her coat.

"Damn right, you better be."

"I call the driver's seat," Terry said, coming up behind her.

"You can call whatever you want," she said. "It still doesn't mean it's happening."

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