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“That’s me,” I answered, speaking up. “My last case in Richmond homicide was taken over by the FBI—and involved a series of shifter murders.”

“Do they think this is connected to those?” she asked. “Not that you’d know the answer.”

I shrugged. “I’ve kept in touch with the agents on that case,” I hedged. “If I had to guess, I’d say that it’s more likely that they’re both connected tangentially through the Magic Free Movement—but I’d be surprised if they had a more direct link than that.”

Smith was nodding.

Olsen took a deep breath, then let it out, her bright blue eyes studying the images as she flicked back and forth through them. “But definitely a potential hate-related crime.”

“Correct,” Smith put in. “And we’re a small town, so we aren’t quite equipped for this level of case.”

“Okay. Well, it seems to me like the first thing you have to do is corroborate your deceased witness testimony.” In other words, confirm what Gregory had told us through Ward. Olsen looked at me. “You know the family of the deceased, right?”

“Very well.” I didn’t need to get into specifics beyond the fact that Elliot and I had grown up together, which she knew.

“Will they consent to an exhumation?”

I opened my mouth to sayyes, obviously, but then thought better of it. “I’ll certainly ask,” I replied. Because it had occurred to me that I didn’t actually know what Mamaceqtaw tradition would have to say about that, or if Elliot would actually care. Or what Gregory would think.

“We’d like to move sooner rather than later on that. Can you ask now?” Olsen wanted to know.

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” I pulled out my phone, then hesitated.

“You think Elliot will refuse?” Smith asked, sounding concerned.

“I’m actually trying to decide whether I call Elliot or Ward first.”

“Who’s Ward?” Olsen asked.

“The medium.”

“Why would you—oh. You’re—” She didn’t finish the sentence.

“Yeah. I’m going to ask him if we can dig his body up,” I replied, hearing how callous that sounded and suppressing a wince. “I’m just not sure if it’s a better idea to ask him first or second.” If I knew what Gregory thought, then I could tell Elliot. If I didn’t, Elliot might ask, then I’d have to call him back, it would take longer, and there was always the possibility that Gregory preferred to stay in the ground.Shit. I resisted the urge to say it out loud.

“You said Mr. Crane wanted his murder solved,” Smith pointed out. “I’m sure he isn’t going to refuse.” I didn’t know the guy well, but he didn’t sound as convinced as his words suggested.

I called Ward.

“Hart! Merry Christmas!”

“Thanks, you, too. I have a work-related question.”

“About the Crane case?”

“Yeah. Can you ask him if he minds being exhumed?” It wouldn’t be the first time Ward had done that, but it really wasn’t common. Exhumations were messy on every level—legal, emotional, and definitely physical—so everybody tried to avoid them if at all possible.

But when you have a murder victim who had been assaulted and a coroner who was apparently falsifying the report, the only way you could get the evidence you needed was to go back to the hard evidence itself—the body. And that meant exhumation. And if Gregory Crane’s turned up evidence, then we might be going back to others. Looking for broken necks, crushed hyoids, trace evidence of drugs or cranial trauma…

This case was a fucking mess, and it was going to get way,waymessier.

“He gives his permission,” Ward said, interrupting my thoughts.

“In other words, he doesn’t like it, but he understands why we have to do it.”

“Exactly.”

I blew out a breath. “Tell him thanks. And we’ll try to be as…” I wasn’t sure how to say it.