Chapter 1, Part Aiii

"Well, as you can tell," Joe began, gesturing with a gloved hand at the ground at the foot of the wall, "looks like a bunch of people came up and over. There are three trails leading off into the tall grass. That one there, in the middle, almost due West, looks pretty well traveled. Pro'bly three, four people, at least.
"Maybe they came up that way and when they went back over, some went back the way they came, one or two went in to the North there, and one went in to the South, there."

His audience followed the movements of his hands, like the heads of small dogs following the master's treat.

Isabele looked down the grassy hill, down towards the lake and the hazy far side of Crater Park and sucked her teeth. "Is Fletcher right there?"

Joe looked back over his shoulder. "Inspector Fletcher!" he called into the alley. "He's coming," he informed the expectant group. With a snap of his head he indicated when Fletcher had arrived.

"Fletcher?" Isabele shouted.

"Yes, Isabele."

"Fletcher, we're gonna have to go into the park."

"I thought as much," came the response. "Proceed with caution."

Isabele turned to her partner as she dug in an inside pocket, producing a black device, like a bicycle grip. "Well?" she asked as she pressed a button on the flat washer-like top.

"Oh." Felicity said dryly, tucking her chin in. "It's in the car. I left mine in my handbag."

"Not gonna help you do you job there, now is it," Isabele scolded quietly.

"Fletcher," she called back over the wall. "Van Hollen forgot her Jipsloc"

An identical black device came floating up into Joe's hands on the wall and with a flic he tossed the GPS Locator to Felicity.

"You do have your camera, right?" Isabele said from the top of her eyes as she finalized the setting on the GPSLOC.

Felicity nodded eagerly.

"Anything that looks remotely suspicious, shoot it. We'll go over it back at the house,"

"Right," Felicity acknowledged smartly as she set her GPSLOC.

"You." Isabele pointed at the younger officer who had kept Felicity talking, rapid fire, for the entire walk. "You're with me," and she turned out to follow the "North" trail as Felicity turned to follow the heavily traveled trail straight down into the park.

They followed off to the side, not wanting to disturb any microscopic evidence that might still remain on the beaten down path. They moved slowly in the tall grass, scanning the trail with meticulous, trained eyes. It's amazing how wonderful of a creation the brain is. How a carpenter will see a sixteenth or a thirty-second of an inch; or how a trained investigator will see the outline of a footprint in living grass.

Every step or two, the two investigators would press the green button on the top of the their GPSLOC's, and whenever they would note something of pending interest, they would point the butt of the device at what they were looking at and press the black button next to it; a laser would pinpoint exactly what they were marking. When forensics would enter the scene, which undoubtedly they were already in the alley, all the data that Smith and Van Hollen were logging, would instantly appear on their data slates. Their individual paths would appear in solid green lines across the rendered topography. Their "data of pending interest" would appear as red X's, highlighted by their exact GPS location.

Smith stopped and looked back over her shoulder, the wall, where Officer "Joe" still stood, looked like a short fence, and Joe, a child determined to straddle it. She inhaled deeply and blew out the pent up breath, the exercise concluded with a bought of violent coughing.

"You okay, Ms. Smith?" the young officer asked as she straightened up, wiping her mouth.

"It's 'Miss', and yes," she spat the bile into the grass, and "shot" it with the blue button, marking it as "investigator introduced." She hated this part of the job. She would never let on, but she absolutely hated it. Give me the paperwork. Let me interview people.

She swept her vision in a slow arch down into the park, until she found Van Hollen, a bright red speck against a backdrop of golden yellow. She wasn't moving. Isabele could tell that, even at this distance.

Her phone rang, the ringtone jarring on her last nerve. She dug it out with her right hand, her left hand disappearing into the over-sized pocket on that side of her jacket.

"Felicity," she stated. She never used the young woman's first name.
"Isabele," the voice on the other end was shaking. "Right here. There is blood. A lot of it."