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“No, we’ve got to keep looking,” Theodosia insisted. “If the killer escaped this way, there have to be more clues. You once told me that the first sixty minutes after a crime is committed are a kind of golden hour. That’s when you learn the most about suspects, motives, and the crime itself.” She headed down a row of sunflowers, then turned and said, “Are you coming?”

Riley dutifully followed her another hundred yards, then another fifty. By that time they’d covered almost half the length of the flower field, which was when Theodosia stopped and said, “What’s that over there?” She’d caught a glint of sunlight reflecting off a moving vehicle.

“Um…” Riley was studying Google Maps on his iPhone. “I think it’s a park. Yeah, here it is. Kipley Park.”

“A county park?”

“Right.”

“Maybe we should go over there and look around.”

“You’re thinking your suspect came in that way?” Riley asked. “Started from the park and then cut across the fields?”

Theodosia put a hand to her head and scrubbed at her mass of auburn hair. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But if we don’t look, there’s always the chance we’ll miss something important.”

“Well…” Riley glanced back toward the greenhouse, where the sheriff, his deputies, and the Crime Scene techs seemed to have everything under control. “Okay then.”

Theodosia arranged with Drayton and Haley, her young chef, to drive her Jeep back to Charleston, while she rode with Riley. Just as they were pulling away, she spotted another TV van, tricked out with aerials and satellite gear on its roof. This one was from K-BAM.

“Can you believe another TV crew showed up?” Theodosia said.

“It’s that Ken Lotter guy,” Riley said. “We figure he uses an illegal police scanner to catch all the emergency calls. Then he drives his stupid news van a hundred miles an hour.”

“Either that,” Theodosia said, “or he wears a flying monkey suit.”

* * *

Over in Kipley Park the scene looked like a normal Saturday afternoon. There were grills, picnic tables, swing sets, a horseshoe pit, and at least a dozen families enjoying the park’s hospitality. Moms unpacked picnic baskets, dads grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, kids played softball, while toddlers whooped and hollered on the swing sets. The day smelled like new-mown grass, burning charcoal, and sizzling meat.

“You see?” Riley said. “Nada. We’re probably not going to find any answers over here.”

“Not so fast,” Theodosia said.

She climbed out of the car and looked around. The gravel parking lot was relatively small, with a couple acres of grass stretching out from it like a green, undulating carpet. Beyond that was a fairly dense woodlot as well as a swampy area.

“Nothing nefarious that I can see,” Riley said. “No clue to indicate the killer was even here.”

Theodosia remained rooted to the spot, one hand shielding her eyes as she surveyed the area, making a slow and deliberate 360-degree inspection. Disappointment was slowly beginning to seep in, until a shady spot highlighted by a dapple of sunlight caught her eye.

“I see one possibility,” Theodosia said.

“What’s that?” Riley asked.

Theodosia pointed to a narrow opening in the woods. “There’s a trail over there.”

At the far edge of the picnic grounds, a path led into what was a fairly dense woodlot.

“A trail?” Riley said.

“You see that shady spot? That’s the entrance.”

“Okay, there’s a trail,” Riley said. “I mean, it is a county park, after all. People probably come here to go hiking and ride mountain bikes. Maybe trailer their horses in, too.”

“We should still take a look.”

“We can look,” Riley said as he checked his watch. “But I’d rather it not turn into a ten-mile hike.”

“What? You were never an Eagle Scout?”

Riley gave a rueful chuckle. “I was more chess club material.”

“Analytical. Which probably makes for a good detective.”

They followed the three-foot-wide, hard-pack dirt trail through stands of beech and ash, twisting along until the woods grew even more dense. Here, live oak and ash trees stood tall, and the ground underfoot began to feel boggy.

“Hate bogs.” Riley did everything but shiver.

“Just spongy peat deposits,” Theodosia said as they pushed on. “Good for the environment because they support so much plant and animal life.”

The trail wound through a swampy area where tupelo and river birch grew. In the middle of a tea-colored pond, sitting atop a half-submerged log, three turtles—red-eared sliders—stuck their heads out, trying to capture as much of the sun’s rays as possible.

“Love those turtles,” Theodosia said as she paused to look at them. Ever since she was a kid, she’d had a soft spot in her heart for turtles and tortoises. She even had a small collection of ceramic turtles.

“You wouldn’t love an alligator turtle,” Riley said. “Get too close to one of those puppies and they’ll chomp your hand off.”

“I hear you.” Theodosia had spent time at her aunt Libby’s place, Cane Ridge Plantation, where she’d had a few encounters with snapping turtles and alligators.

Riley lifted an eyebrow. “Getting too close can be dangerous on any number of levels.”

Theodosia ignored Riley, figuring it was an offhand reference to her getting tangled up in what he figured was his investigation. On the other hand, seeing as how she’d taken the lead in exploring this trail, it was her investigation for the time being.

The afternoon sun poured down like melted butter as they walked along, and Theodosia was glad of it. The weather guy on WSSX Radio had mentioned the possibility of rain for tonight, but so far not a single ominous cloud had bubbled up in a robin’s-egg blue sky.

Then Theodosia’s sharp eyes spotted something that made her stop in her tracks and practically gasp. On a wooden post, silvered with age and half obscured by a tangle of kudzu, was a black box.

“Riley,” she said, “I think there’s a trail cam.”

“What?” Riley looked around but didn’t see anything. “Where?”

Theodosia pointed at the camera. “There, kind of hidden in that thicket of kudzu.”

Riley walked over and pushed back a tangle of bright green leaves. “Darn stuff grows everywhere. Wants to take over.” He leaned down, touched a hand to the trail cam, and said, “Okay, this is something. Probably put here by the South Carolina DNR, the Department of Natural Resources, to monitor wildlife. Lots of mink, nutria, and coyotes inhabit this area. Probably a few bobcats and wild hogs, too.”

“Those hogs are especially super aggressive,” Theodosia said, glancing around. Were there hogs? Nope, none that she could see.

Then her focus was back on the trail camera. “If this camera is motion-activated, and I’m guessing it must be, then it might have captured a shot of the intruder.”

“Only if he came this way,” Riley said. He stared intently at the camera, lifted a shoulder, and added, “This could be helpful.”

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Theodosia said, a little breathlessly. “What if the killer left his car in the parking lot and walked in this way? Crept down this path, then cut over to the flower fields?”

“Maybe.” Riley didn’t sound convinced.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Theodosia said. “Follow this trail a little farther and see where it comes out.”

They did exactly that. And ten minutes later, after swatting their fair share of bugs and taking one wrong turn, emerged from the woods to find themselves staring at a field of purple lavender.

“I was right,” Theodosia said, shielding her eyes and pointing. “Look over there. You can just see a corner of the greenhouse. See how the sun reflects off it?”

Riley squinted, finally saw the green glint for himself, and said, “You’re right.”

“So this could have been the killer’s route in. And out.” Theodosia continued to stare at the greenhouse, feeling a rush of accomplishment. This was something. This was practically proof positive evidence that an outside person had crept in and rigged the greenhouse. Her nose fairly twitched with anticipation as she turned to Riley and said, “Now what?”

“Now we leave it alone.”

“What!” This wasn’t what Theodosia wanted to hear. She envisioned hard-nosed detectives with probing questions, suspects buckling under stress, lie detector tests, and maybe even an arrest.

“We go back to Charleston and trust that Crime Scene will come up with some answers,” Riley said. “That Sheriff Ambourn puts his investigators on this, too. Meanwhile, I’ll call the DNR and see if we can take a look at that trail cam footage.”

Theodosia tapped a foot. “What else?”

“I’ll arrange interviews with witnesses, guests, whoever was at the wedding. Conduct a by-the-book investigation,” Riley said.

“Uh-huh.” Theodosia stared out across the purple field and felt another twitch of excitement, of restlessness. As if the hunt was about to begin for real. Yes, a by-the-book investigation was fine for law enforcement, but if she could cut a few corners, figure out a motive, and speed things up…then maybe, just maybe, she could help find a killer.

The idea thrilled her beyond words.