In the adjoining bathroom, gray pajama pants and a football T-shirt were discarded on the floor. An uncapped tube of toothpaste squeezed in the middle sat alongside her toothbrush, which lay on its side. In the shower there was a collection of shampoos, a razor, and a sliver of white soap.

“Her last evening had been normal until she dozed off and awoke to him standing over her.” She turned toward a secondhand dresser with eight drawers and faded brass oval pulls. On top of the dresser were six earrings scattered around. At first glance the chaos was another casualty of an overworked medical assistant ready to kick back after a long shift.

“The earrings were arranged in a neat row. Side by side. A collection of singles, something anyone who has earrings has. But the singles get tossed in a drawer or jewelry box because you’re still holding on to the hope that the mate will be found. I’ve never laid mine out on a dresser like this.”

She reached in her back pocket and removed her phone, snapping several pictures of the collection.

“The intruder collected one of each earring for a trophy or souvenir,” Nevada said.

She glanced to the nightstand holding a picture of Beth. Her smile was genuine and brilliant as the sun captured the green in her eyes. “Beth’s wearing a delicate set of hoop earrings with small gemstones.”

Nevada found the lone moon-shaped earring with the sparkle gem on the dresser. “Whoever killed Beth was watching her for a while.”

“I agree.” Macy turned to the technician. “Any idea how he came into the house?”

The tech lowered her camera. “The back door was open.”

“Are there shoe prints leading up to it?” Nevada asked.

“I might have a partial footprint,” the tech offered. “I’ve marked the print with red flags and have made molds.”

“Could you identify what kind of shoe it was?” Nevada asked.

“I’d say a man’s athletic shoe, size ten or eleven based on the print found near the gate.”

“We’ll have a look.”

Macy followed Nevada out the back door of the house. He clicked on a flashlight, illuminating the path as they moved toward the back fence. The light caught the red flags and white remnants of the cast. He pointed the light over the fence. “This is rough terrain and a hard area to search at night. We can double back tomorrow.”

“I can keep up. Let’s go.”

“Suit yourself.”

Macy followed Nevada as he studied the area around the back door and then along a narrow footpath that led to the gate. He opened the gate and they stepped through it, moving toward the dense stand of woods.

As he approached, he moved carefully and deliberately toward a thicker swath of muck and then another. He knelt and studied a drying mud puddle under the glare of his flashlight. Stamped in the middle was an arching shoe impression common in many sports shoes.

Macy knelt down, cringing a little. With her phone she snapped pictures. “Did it rain here recently?”

“Saturday night.”

“Beth and Debbie look alike. Maybe he didn’t care which one he took. Both were his type, and killing either one would have given him the thrill he needed.”

“The forensic technician needs to make a cast of this footprint.”

Macy rose a little too quickly and her leg cramped in protest. Pain jolted her and she stumbled slightly. She caught herself by grabbing Nevada’s arm.

His hand wrapped around her forearm, steadying her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She shrugged out of his grasp. “I’m good.”

“We can take a moment, Macy.”

Macy curled her fingers into a fist, resisting the urge to massage her leg. “Pain reminds me I’m alive. It reminds me of my purpose.”

Nevada studied her a long moment, then shook his head and cursed. “Ramsey sent you to me knowing you weren’t ready for this. You need more time to heal.”

“You make it sound like Ramsey sent the B team.”

“I didn’t mean that. Ramsey put the case before your health, Macy.”

Macy possessed a fair number of foul words in her arsenal, and she swallowed a mouthful. “When this case is solved, everyone will see how effective I still am.”

Brooke Bennett received several texts from Bruce Shaw, informing her he was running late. First time it was the game, which had gone into overtime. The second time, it was a call from his neighbor about a busted pipe.

By the time they met up in the assisted living facility’s parking lot, it was after ten. He pulled up in no particular rush and rose out of his car as if he had all the time in the world. He was wearing sweats and a sweatshirt. He moved with the step of a much younger man.

She rose out of her car. “Dr. Shaw.”

He turned and smiled, moving toward her with purpose. “Deputy Bennett. What can I do for you?”

“I want to see the work schedules for the last month for the facility.”

“That’s going to take some time,” he said. “I’ll have to get with personnel, and they don’t open until nine a.m.” He grinned. “Banker’s hours.”

“I want to ask you about Beth Watson.”

He folded his arms. “What about her?”

“She was found murdered this evening.”

He stilled, drawing in a slow, even breath. “That’s terrible. Jesus. What happened?”

“I can’t give the specifics right now. Can you tell me if she had any trouble with anyone at work?”

“No. Hell, she was a nice kid. Tough homelife. I felt for her. She reminded me of where I came from.”

“Was there anyone or any incident that struck you as odd lately?”

“We did have a break-in a few months ago. We had money stolen from petty cash and liquor taken from the café.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“I spoke to Sheriff Greene about it.”

“You called him directly?”

“He and I go way back. He was a big supporter of the team.”

She removed the cheek swab from her pocket. “Speaking of the team, that brings me to the second reason for my visit. Special Agent Crow has asked me to collect cheek swabs of all the football players from the 2004 season.”

He arched a brow. “Does she think one of us did it?”

“She’s covering all her bases. Do you consent?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Would you rather it be somewhere more private?”

“I have nothing to hide.”

She quickly pulled on gloves and removed the swab from its container. He opened his mouth wide.

As she leaned in toward him, she caught the scent of sweat from what must have been a strenuous workout. The muscles in her back tightened, and a tremor shot down her arm. Her heart beat faster.

“You okay, Deputy?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine.” Pursing her lips, she wiped the inside of his cheek and quickly replaced the swab in the vial.

Shaw was studying her closely. “Is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“I’m here to help, Deputy Bennett. Call me anytime.”

With a wave, he turned. As he crossed the lot, his cell rang. He stopped, and a sudden shimmer of tension rippled through his body. He spoke in hushed, clipped tones she couldn’t make out as he started walking quickly away from her. His expression was angry when he vanished through the facility’s front door.

What the hell was that about?

She rubbed the back of her neck and got into her vehicle. She dialed her mother’s number and the call went to voicemail. “Mom, call me. I’ve got a few questions for you about Bruce Shaw.”

It was eleven when Nevada dropped Macy off at her motel room. “Thanks for the ride.”

“You can still stay with me.”

“I won’t get any sleep,” she said.

“Is that a bad thing?”

She smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him on the lips. “See you in the morning, Nevada.”

“The last time I dropped you off was at the airport. Next thing I know, I’m getting a call and hear you’re in a coma.”

She searched his face. “I’m a big girl, Nevada.”

“Who likes to take risks.”

“Like I told Ramsey, it’s who I am.”

He frowned, shaking his head, and she knew there were more thoughts swirling in his head. “I’ll wait until you get inside.”

She grabbed her pack, got out of the car, and crossed toward her motel door. She slid her key through the lock and pushed open the door, doing a quick search of the room. She glanced back at Nevada’s car and raised her hand to give him the all clear. He blinked his headlights, and he waited until she closed and locked the door.

Macy then pushed a heavy chair in front of the door. She removed her weapon, set it on the small vanity by the bathroom, and kicked off her boots. She turned on the hot spray of the shower and stripped. She stepped under the hot water and nearly whimpered with relief as the water pelted down on her skin.

She lingered until she’d chased the chill from her bones and then, out of the shower, toweled off. She slid on an FBI T-shirt, set her gun, phone, and charger on the nightstand, and grabbed her pack before scooting under the covers.