Consumed by E. H. Reinhard

time at the next scene and enough time to maybe grab a bite to eat on the way back out to Nashville,” she said.
    “You’re ready to eat after looking at what we just looked at?” Tom asked.
    “A girl’s gotta eat,” she said.
    I shrugged.
    “Looks like they’re loaded up,” Tom said.
    Dave was heading back toward us and said a few words to Chief Deputy Whissell as he passed. He stopped at the side of Tom’s car. “We’re ready to head over to the next spot if you are.”
    “Yup. Let’s do it,” Beth said.
    Whissell’s SUV pulled from the line of cars and headed down the road.
    “Is the chief deputy meeting us there?” I asked.
    “He said he had to get back to the station,” Dave said. “He just wanted me to let him know what we found at the next scene when I get back.”
    “Okay. Do you know where we’re headed?”
    “Yeah, I have the area already on my GPS. You guys just want to follow me over there?”
    “Sure,” I said. “Lead the way.”
    He walked toward his car.
    Beth and I got into her rental. She fired up the engine and waited for Dave to pass us. Tom pulled out behind him, followed by us and finally Jeff in the coroner’s van. The drive took us almost twenty minutes.
    We spotted the scene down a long, winding, wood-lined road—only a few sporadic houses, farms, and fields had broken up the woods in the previous mile. A single sheriff’s cruiser waited along the side of the road. Our convoy of vehicles pulled in behind the cruiser and parked. We stepped out, and our group approached the single deputy, who waited alongside his car. To our right, I spotted a yellow tarp maybe ten feet from the road’s edge.
    I looked back over my shoulder. Jeff had remained in the coroner’s van, seemingly getting it ready to accept another body. We continued walking. Dave, with his kit in hand and camera around his neck, went straight to view the remains. Tom, Beth, and I went to the deputy.
    “Deputy Carey,” he said. He was thin and maybe an inch or two under six foot. His face was clean shaved, with a pair of eyes that could have been referred to as buggy . He wore the standard Clarksville County Sheriff’s uniform, consisting of a light-blue long-sleeved shirt with black breast pockets and a pair of black slacks.
    “We’re Agents Rawlings, Harper, and Clifford with the FBI.” I pointed at each of us with our corresponding names. “Just you out here?” I asked.
    “Yeah. Been here for an hour and a half,” he said.
    “Who called it in?” Tom asked.
    “Anonymous,” he said. “Not sure how someone spotted it. She’s in there a bit. Whoever called it in had to be in a truck or something. Higher line of sight.”
    I nodded and looked over to where Dave stood near the body, taking photos. The deputy had made a good point—she wasn’t really visible from the road.
    “Didn’t touch the body, did you?” Dave called from the ditch.
    “Nope. Just laid the tarp. That’s it.”
    I looked at where the remains were, in relation to the street. I took a few steps and surveyed the ground, trying to see if I could spot blood anywhere on the road’s surface, like the last scene, or the gravel of the shoulder—I saw nothing.
    “Can we come down, Dave?” I asked.
    “One second. Let me just snap a couple more pics of the surrounding area before it’s disturbed further.”
    Beth, Tom, and I waited at the edge of the street until Dave gave us the go-ahead to come over. Then we stepped through the knee-high weeds to get to him and the body. The smell increased with each step. I put my sleeve over my nose and mouth. Dave had pushed some of the grass where the woman lay to the side and knelt next to her. His kit was open, his hands gloved. I stopped at his side and looked down just as he began to pull back the tarp. Tom and Beth came to my right. As soon as Dave moved the tarp, a handful of flies scattered. I shooed them from around my head and tried to focus on the remains. I saw white-blond hair,