the boat. Face flaming, Josie unhooked the chin strap of her helmet and took it off, shaking water from her hair. Not that it did any good. The rain continued to come down at a moderate rate. “We have to get it to the morgue,” she said. “The medical examiner will need to do an autopsy.”
“We’ll need the Evidence Response Team as well,” Gretchen added.
Brownlow raised a skeptical brow. “Evidence response? Your crime scene washed away.”
“Not for the scene,” Josie told him. “For the tarp and the tape and anything else that’s in there with the body.”
“Contextual clues,” Gretchen told him.
He shook his head. “Hope you ladies are right about this being a body. Else you’re gonna feel real silly jumping into floodwaters for it on TV.”
They stared at him.
Gretchen said, “What else could it be?”
Brownlow shrugged. “Don’t know. A dog or something? Who says it’s human?”
Josie said, “I am one hundred percent sure this is human. But I hope we are wrong, and if we are, we’ll feel pretty damn good because it will mean we don’t have a murder victim on our hands.”
Gretchen reached down into the boat. “Let’s get this into the truck.”
Brownlow put up both hands. “You’re not putting that in my truck.”
Josie said, “Are you kidding me?”
He didn’t reply.
“Just help us get it to the command post. I can put it in my car to get it to the morgue,” she said.
“Sorry, ladies,” he said. “I told you not to jump in after that thing, and you did it anyway. It’s not going in my truck and neither are you two.”
As he walked away, Gretchen spat out a few colorful words under her breath.
Josie sighed. “Unbelievable. Help me get the remains out of the boat. You can stay here and guard them while I walk up and get my car.”
“Your new car?” Gretchen teased as they lifted the tarp out of the boat and found a place away from the water where Gretchen could sit and guard it.
Josie’s old vehicle, a Ford Escape, had been totaled in an accident the month before. She had just bought a new one. She sighed, thinking of the pristine gray interior and new car smell that still permeated it. “Yes, my new car.”
Gretchen sat on the grass beside the body and pulled her helmet off, running a hand through her short, spiked brown and gray hair. “Get one of the ambulances. They’ll take us to the morgue.”
“No,” Josie said as she stalked off toward the university parking lot. “We need them for the living. I’m not diverting resources right now. Not with these flash floods.”
“Good call,” Gretchen called after her.
Josie wiped more rain from her face as she passed Brownlow, who was hooking the rescue boat to the back of his pickup truck, and took the long walk to the parking lot where a bright orange sign marked the command post. Immediately she noticed the news vans crowding one of the triage tents. Reporters, garbed in ponchos and raincoats, gathered around Evelyn Bassett where she sat beneath a canopy tent on a gurney, an ice pack held to her head. They held out their phones and shouted questions. Behind them, cameramen pointed large, heavy, plastic-wrapped cameras at her. Next to her was Hayes. As Josie got closer, she saw that he, too, had taken off his helmet. His black hair was in disarray, sticking up everywhere. He looked to be about her age, mid-thirties, with dark stubble along his sharp jaw. He busied himself tucking a blanket around Mrs. Bassett’s shoulders.
A reporter said, “Mrs. Bassett, were you scared? Did you think you’d get swept away?”
“Course I was scared,” she replied. “I’m seventy-eight! Didn’t think I’d get swept away though. You guys know who saved me, right?”
“Detective Quinn,” another reporter shouted from the back.
Josie felt unease roil her stomach. Five years earlier, she’d cracked a scandalous missing girls’ case in Denton and since then, she’d been instrumental in solving several other high profile cases that had garnered national attention. She’d been on Dateline three times—thanks to her sister who was a world-famous television journalist—and had become something of a local hero. Being semi-famous in her hometown didn’t really suit her. The cases that had put her on people’s radars haunted her. She just wanted to do her job as best she could, but her unwanted celebrity was often unavoidable. Josie put a hand up to adjust her hair as she approached. Mrs. Bassett’s voice came again. “There she is! Detective