Page 21 of Half the Summer's Night

“Abi, listen.” Mrs. Staunton takes on that sharp, teacherly voice she used on me when I was panicking, back when I was a teenager. But I’m not a teenager now. I’m a grown woman.

And I need to know if there’s a letter carved on Olivia Pearce’s body.

It didn’t look like an accident. He makes his victims like they were in an accident.

“—in downtown Rosado.”

I freeze, looking over at my phone. “I’m sorry, say that again?”

Ms. Staunton sighs, clearly frustrated. “This is what I’m trying to tell you, Abilene. Olivia still lives in Magnolia, but her body was found in downtown Rosado. She was—displayed, for lack of a better word, on the gazebo in the town square.”

“What?” I snatch my phone up and run back into my bedroom. “This morning?”

“Yes, a groundskeeper found her very early this morning. From what I’ve been able to get from the police, and it’s not a lot, she was likely killed there overnight.”

Could he have even done it? After he left here?

“I know you handle all the coroner cases in Rosado County, but I did not want you to have Olivia Pearce come in without warning.”

“How did you find out?” I throw my closet door open and dig through my clothes, looking for my most professional outfit.

“Olivia’s husband let me know,” Ms. Staunton says gently. “Olivia and I have done a lot of work with victims’ rights, and he was worried I might be in danger. But her being found in Rosado?—“

I stop, a pale linen dress dangling from one hand. “You think I might be in danger, too.”

“I don’t know what I think,” Ms. Staunton says. “But I felt obligated to let you know.”

I throw the dress on my bed. “Thank you, Ms. Staunton.”

“You can call me Heather.”

It feels disrespectful, calling her Heather. Like we’re colleagues. Like she isn’t the reason I was able to convince a jury in Magnolia that Blake Fletcher’s death was an accident.

Well, herandOlivia, if I’m being honest. Anxiety twists around in my belly.

“I’ll let you know what I find out, okay?”

I hang up before she can argue with me. Then I strip out of my nightgown and get dressed.

I need to see that crime scene.

8

ABI

They have the whole block roped off, yellow tape criss-crossing over the road. I can still see the Rosado gazebo, though, a white-and-pink structure rising out of the center of a lush green patch in the middle of downtown. It’s a historical marker, one of those things that Rosado’s known for aside from the beach. The town has farmers’ markets here once a month and a Halloween festival in the fall.

And now it’s a crime scene.

My throat is dry as I walk up to the uniformed police officer guarding the area. I don’t recognize her, although that doesn’t mean she won’t know my name.

“I’m Abilene Snow,” I say, already pulling out my coroner’s badge. “I need to look at the body.”

She frowns at my badge. “I didn’t realize Kaplan had contacted you yet. He’s still talking with Detective Contreras about how they want to proceed.”

I stiffen. I didn’t expect Kaplan to actually be here, not with the crime scene being in the city limits.

“The police department contacted me,” I lie, tucking my badge back into my pocket. “May I?”