Cold Truth by Mariah Stewart

high school, gone on to Rider College, graduated, come back home, and married her high school sweetheart. She and her husband were hard workers, active in their church, and all in all appeared to be the all-American boy and girl, all grown up.
    It really pissed off Cass that someone had robbed them of their happily ever after.
    A sound from the hall caused her to glance up. A solemn-faced Craig Denver stood in the doorway of her small office.
    “You’re early today,” she said, knowing that the chief almost never arrived before eight. “Just in time, though, to take a look at these hot-off-the-press reports—which are pretty good, if I do say so myself. I’m printing out a set for you, and you can . . .”
    Something in his expression caused her to stop in the middle of the sentence.
    “What?” She tilted her head to one side.
    “We have another one,” he said, his words clipped and tense.
    “Another . . .” She stared at him blankly.
    He nodded. “Another body.”
    “Another body . . .” She pushed back from the desk. “Where?”
    “She was left in the alley behind the Daily Donuts on Twenty-eighth Street. Guys coming in this morning to empty the Dumpster found her lying near the fence.”
    “Okay,” she said more to herself than to Denver. “I’m on my way. I’ll call Jeff . . . I’ll call Tasha . . .”
    She opened her desk drawer and took out her digital camera and slipped it into her bag.
    “I called Jeff, he’ll meet you there. Wife wasn’t happy to hear my voice, didn’t want to wake him. Don’t know how he’s going to handle that, but he’s going to have to address it, and soon. This wasn’t the first time she gave me a problem when I called. In case you’re wondering, though, I called you first. Didn’t get an answer at your house or your cell, so I called him. In any case, we have two uniforms there already, they responded to the call. They’ll keep everyone away from the scene until you arrive.”
    “Are you coming?” She stood and hoisted her bag over her shoulder, then reached over her desk to unplug her cell phone from the charger and slipped it into her pocket.
    “I’ll meet you there.” He nodded, and she went past him.
    He stood in her office for a long minute before snapping off the light.
    Craig Denver hated this. Hated the fact that someone was coming into his town and killing his people. Hated what it reminded him of, hated the memories it brought back, hated the way the whole thing made him feel inside. He walked ten steps down the hall to his own office, and stepped inside. He was halfway to the desk when he saw the flat white envelope that lay on the floor midway between the desk and the door. He stared at it, trying to will it away.
    He knew what it was, and had a sinking feeling he knew what it would say.
    Opening the top drawer of the filing cabinet, he reached in and pulled out a pair of thin rubber gloves, which he slipped on. Just a precaution, though. He knew there’d be no prints on the envelope, nor on the single sheet of paper he’d find inside.
    He slid the paper out and held it up. It gave him no satisfaction to be right.
    Hey, Denver! Remember me?
     
    The body of the young woman had been left on the ground, uncannily positioned in much the same manner as Linda Roman had been. On her side, arms over her head, her long dark hair covering her face. It took all of Cass’s willpower not to turn her over, just to make sure it
wasn’t
Linda Roman.
    Snap out of it,
she demanded when she realized she was simply staring at the body.
Take a deep breath. Do your job.
    She put in a call to the station for some portable lights. Although the sun would soon be up, the cloud cover and mist would keep the scene too dark to gather much evidence.
    She dug the camera out of her bag, set it for flash, and began taking pictures of the body, of the scene, the alley, the fence. She found herself growing angry with the person who had taken this young woman’s life and