Page 65 of Three Steps Behind

“When someone is cremated, they put a coin or chip in with a number stamped on it that coordinates to their file, so they can be certain they have the right remains for each person. Do you have gloves and an evidence bag in your truck?”

“Of course. I’ll go grab them.”

“Maybe walk around the house instead of through it. We don’t want Nick getting curious about what we’re doing.”

“Roger that. I’ll be right back.” He strode back toward the house but gave it a wide berth, going around the side.

All the possible implications of the coin—who it belonged to, and how it got there—tracked through her mind. Scenarios formed. Awful scenarios.

She shifted to stand and moved toward the rushing water so it would appear she was just taking in the sight of the river—water spritzing on her the closer she got.

She looked toward the house. No Deck. Come on. Her leg bounced.

Voices carried from the upper fire pit, and she prayed they stayed there.

Crunching sounded in the woods between Nick’s and the neighbors’.

Her heart thwacking in her ears, she feared her opportunity might have passed.

Deck broke through the woods and relief swept over her, but it didn’t ease the tension inside any.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked.

“You got a little something.” She pulled a twig off his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“You might want to shake the needles off your head too, but smart way of coming back.”

“Whatever you’re doing, you might want to hurry. Nick’s on the upper patio.”

Taking a steeling breath in a poor attempt to calm herself, she slipped on the gloves while Deck held the evidence bag open for her. She quickly examined the coin. Definitely a cremation coin. She’d seen one before on her friend Heather’s mantel. She dropped it into the bag.

Deck sealed the bag, and she’d shifted to get to her feet when something else caught her eye. A purple label. Nearly burned save for the tip, where cassia flowers dotted the upper panel of the paper. She pushed the debris around it away and saw a shard of glass at the bottom of the pit.

“Find something else?” Deck asked, no doubt keeping an eye on the slope above.

“I’m not sure, but I’m taking it along.” She shoved the shard into a second bag he handed her.

She stood and studied the fire pit as a whole, centering in on the white, fluffy ashes dotting the campfire—very different from the rest. She swallowed. It can’t be. No one could be that cruel. “One last bag.” She reached out as he handed it over.

“Hurry. Nick’s voice is getting louder. I think he and that frat buddy of his are headed this way.”

She scooped some of the ashes into a third bag, shoved it into her pocket, and swiped off her gloves, shoving them into the other pocket.

The voices were nearly upon them.

“Come here,” he said, tugging her close, then leading her to the water’s raging edge.

“What’s up?”

“You’re going to have to trust me. Can you do that?”

She nodded.

He wrapped his arm around her back and caressed her cheek. “So beautiful,” he murmured.

What was happening, and why was he looking at her like that?