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“It wasn’t a jab at your ability to do your job, Tassia.”

“Nevertheless, what did it look like?”

“Round, golden or gold brushed, I guess. And I think it had some tiny red gemstones embedded into it,” I tell her.

Tassia shakes her head. “That wasn’t part of the charm bracelet. I put it in a separate bag and tagged it accordingly.”

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t part of the charm bracelet. I thought I already said that.”

“Gary bagged them together. He’s one of our leading crime scene techs. If he had it bagged with the charms on that bracelet?—”

“Gary wouldn’t know the difference between a pendant and a stud earring,” Tassia says, rolling her eyes. “I know how he bagged and tagged things at the crime scene. All I did was correct his mistake. The charm you’re referring to wasn’t a charm. It was a cufflink, and I logged it separately. I also flaggedit for Gary to pick up and retest for DNA traces and prints. Which he never did, now that I think about it.”

She pulls a smaller bag from the pile, and I can clearly see it now. A gold-plated cufflink with tiny red gemstones embedded across its circular surface.

Tagged separately.

“They didn’t test every charm on the bracelet before they brought it into the evidence room,” Tassia says. “Once the first few charms confirmed only Tassia’s blood and prints, my guess is they bagged it all together and never gave the cufflink a second thought.”

“But you did.”

“I did.”

“You tampered with evidence.”

The blood drains from Tassia’s face as soon as she realizes the gravity of my statement. She takes a couple of steps back. “Whoa. Tampered with evidence?”

“Why did you feel the need to intervene?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Because it didn’t seem right to let that cufflink go unseen.”

“I’m just pulling your leg,” I confess.

She gives me a startled look.

“With the evidence tampering statement.”

Without batting an eye, she playfully smacks me over the shoulder. “Badge or not, I will hurt you,” she says, making me laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“My apologies,” I say as I gather my wits about me. “You have no idea how adorable you are when you’re angry.”

The atmosphere shifts between us. I did it on purpose, intentionally disarming Tassia, particularly after the events of last night.

“This is inappropriate, Sheriff,” she manages, tucking a rebel lock behind her ear.

“You’re right. I’ll make my amends later. But I want to know more about this cufflink. How did you even notice it? Your job is logging the items into the evidence system, not analyzing each object in minute detail.”

Tassia sighs deeply. “I guess Tim never told you.”

“Told me what?”

“He wanted to mention it in his recommendation letter, but he didn’t think you’d believe him if he wrote it down.”

“Wrote what down? What’s going on, Tassia?”

“I… have this thing,” she says and rolls her eyes as if she’s embarrassed to say it out loud. “This ridiculous attention for microscopic detail. I’m extremely perceptive with the ability to notice connections and patterns. I’ve also got a bit of a photographic memory.”