When he hung up, she kept moving around, and that’s when she thought she saw something. As she began moving toward the next grave, Shadow put himself between her and it, and he began barking like a lunatic.
EVERYONElooked over.
The big dog was not happy, and at first, they all thought it was him losing his shit on her.
Only, that wasn’t the case.
He was focused on the trees. So much so, that she had to grab him as something moved in the distance, running away from where they were.
When Ivan went to follow, she stopped him.
“Oh, hell, no. This is the making of a horror movie. Investigators go into the trees, and they end up dead. We’re not chasing jack shit during the dark on this case. I know a trap when I see it. Shadow knows one, too, apparently. We’re staying out in the open, because I just promised I’d keep my eyeballs in my goddamn head.”
That was the smartest thing he’d ever heard.
To.
Be.
Honest.
She crouched down, and she hugged the dog. His fur was standing up down his back, and she didn’t doubt he’d heard or seen something.
“Hey, good boy,” she said. “We’re not going into the trees. You’re a good boy for alerting,” she said. “Was that the person that hurt Jonathan?” she asked, almost like he could answer.
But he couldn’t.
Ivan patted the dog on the head, and Elizabeth laughed at that.
“He’s growing on you.”
Ivan sighed.
“Shut up.”
That was all she had to hear.
“We need to stay back by the grave,” she admitted. “Everyone stick together. I’m not losing anyone on day one. We already have enough issues.”
No one argued there.
“I have something on Steph Lewis,” Gene said, from where he was sitting with his back against a giant tombstone, so no one could sneak up behind him.
Elizabeth headed his way, her hand on Shadow’s collar to make sure he didn’t run into the trees. Because then, she was going after him.
“What did you find?” she asked, as Shadow laid down next to Gene, and the man began petting him.
He shared.
“Well, how’s this for weird? She was a diabetic, and she accidentally overdosed on insulin.”
That hung there.
“I wonder how long she was a diabetic?” she asked out loud, not really expecting an answer.
Gene had the autopsy on the tablet screen.
“No clue, but this made me think about Lory Vanbruggen. She was overdosed, too. Then we had two hit-and-runs. What if this nut OD’d her with insulin? That could kill her. Ethan and I once had a case where the killer was a nurse, and she was an angel of death. She was pumping people full of insulin, and it’s almost impossible to catch because it dissipates in the system almost immediately. We got lucky and found a syringe.”
