With the morning sun having barely yet broken the horizon, Caitlin Somers’ dead body was still mostly in darkness, with just hints of light on some of the curves and edges. She’d begun to cool as the day had begun to heat up. Her face. Her bloodied neck. Her chest, with a glistening red hole right above the heart, where her ribs had been punched away. “I, uh…” Alex began to say, before falling quiet. Jane tried to think of something appropriate, but nothing came. She just stared at the dead girl’s hand, which was hanging down its fingers slightly curled, as she’d been about to make a fist. Or open one. Either way, there were pockets of dew on Caitlin’s dead palm. As if he’d suddenly remembered that he should, Alex removed his cap. Finally, Jane knew she’d have to be the one to speak. “Boss, we -” Before she could finish, Alex turned and put a hand over her eyes. “I don’t think you should see this,” he said roughly. With his hand pressed against her face, she frowned.
