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Immediately we noted the signs of a hurried search.

The living room was in disarray: cushions thrown off the sofa, drawers yanked open and their contents scattered across the floor, and picture frames askew on the walls.

Moving cautiously, we cleared each room one by one.

The kitchen cabinets had been flung open, dishes and food items strewn about.

In the bedrooms, mattresses were upturned and closets emptied haphazardly.

I checked behind the doors as Oscar swept under the beds.

As we finished the last bathroom, we exchanged a determined glance.

This was no accidental drowning .

“Mrs. Anderson,” I called, “You can come inside now, just please don’t touch anything until we can get forensics out here.”

She looked around dazed.

“Mrs. Anderson,” Oscar gently touched the woman on the elbow. “When you came up here, did you notice anything missing?”

“Um,” She aimlessly looked around the living room, “Can I look in the other rooms?”

“Yes, just don’t touch or move anything. And wait a minute,” I held up a finger, “let me get you some shoe covers.”

I ran down to the car and grabbed my case from the trunk. “Here,” I said when I returned, “Slip these on over your shoes.” I handed pairs to her husband and to Oscar, and we all booted up.

“Uh,” she muttered as her eyes darted around the room.

“Let me see.” The woman truly looked lost. I felt for her.

First her daughter, and now her home. She walked down the hall, peering into each room, but never going in, almost like she was afraid.

After briefly looking into the room with the white canopy bed with pink ruffled spread, she pulled the door shut, tears forming in her eyes before she bounded down the hallway to the next room.

“Here, my computer,” she pointed. As Oscar and I entered the office, it was clear the computer was indeed missing, with a charging cord and internet cable left dangling from the desk like severed veins.

“Was it a laptop?” I asked.

She nodded soberly, eyes wide with worry.

“What was on it? ”

“Nothing, really. Ed and I just used it for email, and keeping records for taxes.”

“Okay, anything else missing?”

She shook her head. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

“Do you have a safe or something hidden they may have been looking for?” Oscar asked.

Doreen turned, a hint of fire in her eyes. “We keep our money in the bank. We don’t have anything to hide.”

Oscar gave me an innocent shrug at her bristle. I hurried to smooth things over. “Of course. He didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” I rested my hand on her shoulder, keeping an even tone. “We need to call in forensics to fingerprint up here. Let’s go back downstairs while we wait.”

Kylie’s mother scurried out, like she couldn’t leave fast enough, her husband lingering at the top of the stairs. “There’s no way this was an accident,” he hissed. “And whoever did this , put Kylie in that canal.”

“It would seem highly likely that those incidents are connected,” I said cautiously, shooting Ramirez a look.

We needed a moment to discuss the new development.

I waved for Mr. Anderson to follow me downstairs.

“If you don’t mind, wait for us here.” I motioned to the teak patio set under the tiki hut.

Leading Ramirez to the palm trees near the entrance of Kylie’s apartment, I explained, “This is where the key was hidden that Coulter used to enter.” I lifted the conch shell with my gloved hand.

“That key?” He pointed to the one in the gravel .

“No, I entered the key into evidence, but I brought it.” I pulled the plastic evidence bag out of my pocket and dangled it. “Coulter said the keys for both doors were there. That one must be for the upstairs.”

“Might as well send that for prints too,” Oscar said, scratching his balding head. “Though it’s not likely that anyone would’ve taken the time to put the key back in its place after tossing the joint.”

I nodded, reaching in my pocket for another evidence bag. “So someone was ransacking the place and Kylie surprised them…?”

Oscar looked grim, “It’s a possibility. Or someone killed Kylie and tried to make it look like a burglary afterward by ransacking the house upstairs.”

His theory was feasible, but something about it didn’t sit right with me. Who would have done this?

“Mrs. Anderson?” I asked, going to sit next to her under the tiki hut. “Did Kylie have her car with her? Her Jeep?”

She looked down at the cell phone in her lap, almost like she didn’t recognize it for a moment, and then she seemed to snap back to reality and smiled up at me. “No, it’s been in the shop waiting on a part. She had been taking the bus, or Uber.”

“What about Coulter?” I pressed gently. “What was their relationship like?”

“Coulter?” She looked up, surprised. “They haven’t been together for years. I always thought they might still end up together someday, until Kylie met Jake and fell head over heels. ”

“Did Kylie talk to you about sharing the engagement news with Coulter?” I asked.

“No. Although I did ask her about that just before we left for Texas. I couldn’t help but worry.”

“Worry?” Oscar stepped closer. “Were you afraid of how he might react?” The hairs on my arm bristled, wishing he’d back off.

Mrs. Anderson blinked through tears. “I was afraid it’d break his heart all over again. But if you mean was I afraid that he would do something to hurt her… then, no. Coulter loved her. He would never do anything to hurt Kylie.”

Oscar pulled me to the side, whispering. “Could Coulter have been in the house upstairs before you saw him earlier?”

I frowned, admitting, “It’s possible.” A possibility I didn’t want to consider.

“We need to find out if he has the computer.”

I nodded in agreement before returning to the grieving mother. “If you’ll stay here until the rest of the team arrives, Detective Ramirez and I are going to look around a little more.”

They both nodded. “Of course.”

Oscar and I walked through the yard, down the stepping stones, the yellow police tape around the dock fluttering in the breeze as we ducked under it.

The afternoon was eerily quiet after the adrenaline rush of Mrs. Anderson’s screams and the condition of the house upstairs.

The only sound was the rustle of the palm trees and the distant hum of traffic on US 1.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were missing something vital .

As Oscar and I paced things off, I noticed an area of pea gravel in the yard just outside the tape that looked slightly disturbed. I stepped outside the tape and crouched down, tracing the air over a few scuff marks in the gravel with my gloved finger. It was minimal, but it was there.

“Oscar, over here,” I called.

He walked over, peering at the ground. “Possible signs of a struggle,” he agreed, cupping his chin. “Good work, Detective.”

I wanted to relish the rare compliment, but my heart pounded with the thought that these scuffs marked where Kylie lost a battle. But with whom?