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As she paced around the rectangle formed by stones, Riley tried to focus—to let her intuition bridge the gap between the present moment and that past day when someone had been buried here.

She visualized the scene, attempted to get a sense of who had been here to hide a body, but the mental images slipped away.

The ability to connect with a killer’s mind was her gift, her edge—and yet, it seemed to be failing her today. Maybe the crime scene was too overgrown for her to make that intuitive link. Or maybe the crime itself had happened too long ago.

Or maybe I’m distracted by the people I’m working with, she thought with mild dismay.

She could feel Putnam and Stewart’s eyes on her as the two men stood at one side of the clearing, their conversation a low murmur. Their aloofness cast an invisible barrier, and Riley couldn’t shake off the sensation of being an outsider.

“Come on, Riley,” she muttered under her breath, closing her eyes to sharpen her concentration.

But nothing came. No flash of insight, no echo of malice, just the emptiness of a crime long cold. Had her ability been unused for too long while she lectured in a safe classroom? Had she lost her touch? Did she even belong in the field anymore?

Then she reminded herself—if it weren’t for her and her two daughters, this body might have gone undiscovered.

I’ve still got some game, she thought.

Riley took a deep breath, shaking off self-doubt.

She forced herself to focus, to try again.

Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift back to that day when this patch of ground had been violated by violence and death.

She imagined the sounds—the rustling leaves, the crunch of footsteps—and allowed herself to be drawn into the scene.

And then... something clicked.

A flicker of insight sparked in her mind’s eye.

Two figures emerged from the depths of her consciousness—two people carrying a body between them through the wilderness.

It was a heavy burden shared, but not equally so.

She could sense tension between them—an imbalance in their dynamic.

One was dominant, controlling. Not necessarily physically stronger but mentally and emotionally overpowering the other.

The dominant figure was a paradox—a forceful personality with an odd undercurrent of indecisiveness and conflict.

This person wanted control but also craved validation or perhaps absolution.

They chose this remote location for its obscurity—to ensure that the body would remain hidden from prying eyes, indefinitely lost to time.

Yet there were those stones—carefully arranged in a rectangle around the burial site like breadcrumbs leading back to their secret sin. As if on some level they wanted—or needed—the body to be discovered eventually.

Riley opened her eyes slowly, feeling a rush of relief mixed with apprehension as she looked at the rectangle once more. Her gift hadn’t abandoned her—it had just taken time to awaken from its slumber.

She had tapped into something—a trickle rather than a flood—but it was enough for now. Enough to confirm that she still belonged here, in this field where intuition met investigation head-on; enough to keep pushing forward even amid doubts and unwelcoming glares.

She glanced at the two Park Rangers who had arrived and stood waiting with shovels at the ready.

Then the arrival of a van and the crunch of approaching footsteps announced the arrival of the Venard County Coroner, who strode into the clearing.

He was tall and wiry, with a mop of unruly peppered hair.

“What have we got here, Stewart?” the coroner asked the park superintendent.

“These are FBI Special Agents Paige and Putnam,” Stewart said. “They pinpointed something at this location. It’s possible that we’ve discovered a buried body.”

The coroner nodded curtly as Riley and Putnam displayed their badges.

“Good afternoon, Paige and Putnam,” he said without warmth. “I’m Fritz Jannings— Dr. Fritz Jannings. And I’m the guy who deals with dead people in this county.”

Then he frowned at the sight before him. “This had better be worth my time. Got a table full of innards back at the morgue.” He pulled on a pair of latex gloves with a snap, his mannerisms broadcasting his impatience to return to his interrupted work.

“See for yourself,” Putnam motioned toward the stone arrangement with a dismissive gesture.

Jannings’ eyes narrowed as he surveyed the crude grave outline. He knelt beside it, his movements precise as he traced the perimeter without touching anything. A long silence followed before he finally spoke.

“It might be a grave,” he conceded grudgingly.

“Likely it is,” Riley replied.

The coroner sighed, “Then let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Standing up, he signaled to his team to prepare for the excavation.

The little clearing was crowded now, so the two FBI agents and the park superintendent stepped back to give the newcomers room.

A ranger, his face set in concentration beneath the brim of his hat, started shoveling dirt aside with methodical urgency.

Next to him, a member of Jannings’s team, wearing latex gloves that seemed too delicate for such grim work, joined in the excavation.

The minutes dragged by slowly, then a ranger’s voice sliced through the stillness.

“Got something here!”

“Step back,” Jennings ordered, his voice laced with professional irritation rather than curiosity.

Riley leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the hollow as Jennings crouched down.

“Definitely a body,” Jannings grunted, confirming what they all suspected. “Clear the area,” he snapped. “Let my team do their job.”

As the rangers stepped back, Jannings’s team moved in with brushes and tools in hand, their movements precise and respectful. They worked to gently reveal the secrets the earth had guarded for so long.

Watching them work, Riley was torn between the presence of live, warm-blooded human beings and the cold void left by death.

Each stroke of the brush, each sifted handful of soil, peeled back layers of time, uncovering truths that would soon bridge past and present.

And though the diggers’ faces were marked by focus, not emotion, Riley knew each of them understood the gravity of their task.

This was more than a crime scene; it was a final resting place, a life stolen and a story waiting to be told. As the body emerged, frail and hidden within the earth, Riley knew her work here was far from done.

“Good work,” Jennings muttered to his team. He stood up, dusting off his hands as if to rid himself of the responsibility as quickly as he shed the dirt.

Riley’s gaze fixed on the skeletal remains as the last layers of dirt were carefully brushed away.

The bones, frail and bleached by time, told a story that only silence had heard for a long time.

A remnant of fabric clung to the form like a whisper from the past, while tarnished jewelry offered a glimpse into the woman who once was.

“Looks like she’s been here for a while,” Jennings grumbled, his voice devoid of empathy. “As a first estimate, I’d say about twenty years.”

Riley was absorbed by the details—the curve of the spine, the position of the arms—as if understanding the dead woman might lead to understanding the person or persons who had buried her here.

“Jannings,” she prompted softly, “the jewelry... might there be engravings? Something personalized?”

“Maybe,” he replied curtly, already waving his team over. “We’ll take a closer look at the morgue.” Then he turned to his team. “Alright, let’s get her ready to move,” he ordered, his tone signaling the end of the on-site investigation.

Riley watched as they prepared to transport the remains with a care that seemed incongruous with the coroner’s brusqueness.

“I’ll call Sheriff Hagen myself,” Jennings announced, his words slicing through the afternoon air. “He needs to know about this.”

“Are you able to determine the cause of death?” Putnam asked.

“Too early to tell,” Jennings said. “I suppose it could have been a case of natural causes, and someone simply wanted to bury her in some out-of-the-way place.”

It wasn’t that, Riley thought.

She realized she’d gotten one other hint about whoever had buried this body here—that they harbored at least a trace of guilt, and that the stones were, in some sense, a sort of apology to the dead.

She was murdered, all right, Riley thought.

Putnam stepped toward Riley, his arms crossed and his feet apart in a posture that broadcast authority, as if he were marking his territory.

“Thanks for your help, Paige,” Putnam said, his voice jarring in its casual dismissal. “I’ll take it from here.”

The words stung, but Riley didn’t flinch. Instead, she met Putnam’s gaze steadily.

“Of course, Agent Putnam,” she replied, her tone even.

But she didn’t feel ready to leave—not with so many questions burning unanswered in her mind.

But have I got any choice? she wondered.

She remembered Meredith’s words from yesterday, a directive that had seemed simple then: solve the mystery of the coordinates and come back. Yet, the fact that they’d found a grave that was located by math puzzles that had been pinned to dead bodies only indicated that there was more to uncover.

As the coroner’s team lifted the remains from the makeshift grave onto a stretcher and began their solemn procession away from the clearing, Riley dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She dialed a familiar number, then pressed the phone tightly to her ear.

“Riley. I’m glad you called!” Bill said, taking the call. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Every detail spilled out in a rush as she recounted the discovery, the skeletal remains and the conversations that followed.

“Putnam thinks he can close me out, just like that.” Riley’s words sparked with indignation. “But there’s more to this, Bill. I can feel it.”