She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“I’ll help you get him cleaned up.” Matt let Brody out of the van while Cady helped the pittie out of the crate.
They walked toward the kennel. The door opened and a thin man stepped out. Matt had known Justin since childhood. Recently released from a drug rehab facility, his friend looked rough. But then, he’d weathered a car accident, a subsequent opioid addiction, and the murder of his estranged wife, during which he’d been shot and kidnapped. Justin was still standing, but there wasn’t much left of him. Emotionally, he was drained.
“Hey, Justin.” Cady summed up the dog’s condition.
Justin just nodded. He’d been unable to get a job since his release, so Matt had put him to work in the kennels. Dogs were the best therapy he could think of, and his friend needed to be occupied. Too much free time would not help him stay sober.
Justin kneeled on the concrete and held out a hand to the pittie. The dog walked closer. Justin stroked his head, and the dog leaned on him.
One wounded soul recognized another.
Matt’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. Bree. His heart did a happy little skip. Their relationship was still new and shiny, and he hadn’t adjusted to the effect just hearing her voice had on him. Did she want to see him tonight? “I need to take this call.”
He stepped outside and answered the call. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she said.
He’d hoped her call was personal. They were past due for a date night. Her family and job kept her busy. But he knew instantly from the tone of her greeting that the call was official business. “What happened?”
“We found a body in the river near the bridge on Dead Horse Road.”
“Are you still there?”
“Yes. It’s a fresh case. I’m still waiting on the medical examiner.”
“OK. I’m on my way.” Matt ended the call. He ducked back into the kennel. “I have to go to work.”
Cady frowned. “I’m not telling Mom. She’s not happy that you’re working for the sheriff’s department again, since that’s how you were shot.”
“I know.” But Matt had tried retirement. It hadn’t suited him. He was only thirty-five. “But this is who I am.” He called Brody.
“You can leave Brody with me. I’ll put him inside before I go.” Cady gave him a quick hug. “I love you. Be careful.”
“I will.” Matt went into the house and changed into his civilian-consultant uniform: khaki-colored cargoes and a black sheriff’s-logo polo shirt. Then he went out to his SUV and headed toward a dead body.
CHAPTER THREE
Bree climbed the slope back to the road. She swallowed a mouthful of evening spring air. Cold water had slowed—but not stopped—decomposition of the body. The smell, like meat just beginning to spoil, penetrated her nose and coated the back of her throat.
Collins was standing in the open door of her cruiser, talking on the radio. She spotted Bree, signed off, and jogged over.
“I called the medical examiner,” Bree said, breathless. “And our criminal investigator, Matt Flynn.”
Budget restrictions prohibited hiring a full-time investigator. Matt worked as a civilian consultant to the sheriff’s department on an as-needed basis.
A sheriff’s cruiser parked on the shoulder of the road. Chief Deputy Todd Harvey stepped out and walked on the gravel shoulder toward her. He adjusted his duty belt on his lean waist. At six feet tall, he had the long, easy stride of an outdoorsman. He stopped in front of her.
Bree summed up the situation in a few quick sentences. Then she opened the passenger door of her SUV and took out her camera. “We’re losing daylight fast. You and Collins utilize additional deputies as they arrive to search the ground around the vehicle, between the vehicle and the bridge, and the bridge’s surface. Bag anything you find as evidence. Photograph everything.” Bree eyed the line of law enforcement vehicles. The press would be here shortly. “Set up a perimeter for media. Be careful. I saw a black bear and two cubs on the trail. I doubt they’ll be back, but be mindful.”
She closed the door, moved to the rear of the vehicle, and opened the cargo hatch. She retrieved her bear spray, just in case. “According to the initial caller, the car has been parked at the bridge since Friday. The heavy rain over the past weekend probably washed away any footprints.” Bree doubted any evidence would have survived the storms, but they would go through the procedural motions anyway.
“Yes,