Brody cast the man a sympathetic glance. “Normally I’d like to see the body first, but this heat is brutal. Let’s get the poor man out of here.”
They skirted a puddle and crossed the asphalt.
“You take the lead on this one,” Brody said. “You’re ready, and with Hannah’s father barely hanging on, I’ll probably be taking some personal leave in the next week or so.” Brody checked his phone.
“I’m sorry to hear about Hannah’s dad.” Stella thoroughly approved of Brody’s girlfriend, Hannah Barrett, and the thought of her losing her father brought back a wave of sorrow. Fifteen years after her own dad’s death, sudden reminders could still make Stella’s grief feel impossibly raw.
Brody nodded. “Thanks. He’s been sick a long time, but his death will still be hard on her.”
“I’m sure it will.”
The death of Hannah’s father would surely bring her younger brother back to town. The last Stella had heard, Mac Barrett was in Brazil. Not that she was keeping track of him. OK. She was. But thoughts of Mac, his lean body, and the clear blue eyes that spoke more than he did had no business at a death scene. Why couldn’t she be distracted by a man who didn’t spend half his time in South America?
The first time they’d met, back in November, the Scarlet Falls PD had been in the middle of a desperate search for a killer—a killer Stella could have stopped if her aim had been truer in a shootout earlier that day. But he’d escaped and embarked on a terrible spree of violence. Brody and Hannah had nearly lost their lives, and two cops had died. Two families had opened their doors to uniformed chaplains on their doorsteps. Stella’s stomach cringed at the memory of her own mother opening their front door fifteen years before and collapsing the instant she’d seen the chief and chaplain standing on the stoop. Her mother had known her father was dead before either man had said a word.
Stella put the past away and focused on Mac.
Last fall, he’d been invaluable in tracking down the killer. He’d saved lives. So when others were quick to write him off as scattered, Stella knew better. There was more to Mac Barrett than a handsome face. Much more.
“Earth to Stella.” Brody’s voice pulled her back to the job at hand. “I was asking how you felt about taking the lead.”
“Good,” she said, faking confidence while nerves gathered in her belly. Their small police force had only two detectives to work everything from burglary to homicide. Since her promotion, she’d worked plenty of cases alongside Brody, but this would be the first time she’d be lead on a major crime. The responsibility weighed on her. All she’d wanted for her whole life was to be a good cop.
Brody stopped and caught her gaze. “You can handle this.”
“I know,” she said without hesitation. She was meant to be a detective. It was in her genes. Her father had been killed in the line of duty, her grandfather was a retired NYPD detective, and her siblings were all involved in law enforcement.
Mr. Taggert looked up as Stella and Brody stopped in front of him. The man was in his mid-fifties. His face was pasty, and the hands clenched between his knees trembled.
“I’m Detective Dane and this is Detective McNamara,” Stella said. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”
Mr. Taggert swallowed. His eyes flickered to the dugout and back. “I just want to go home.”
“We’ll get you out of here shortly.” Stella began, “Can you tell us what happened?”
“We’re supposed to have practice in a couple of hours. But after yesterday’s thunderstorms, I wanted to check the field and make sure it wasn’t too muddy. That’s when I smelled it. At first I thought an animal had gotten into the dugout and died. But when I looked inside . . .” His eyes closed, his lips flattened, and he breathed through his nose for a few seconds. “Well, I could tell right away that she was dead.”
“Do you recognize her?” Stella asked.
He shook his head.
“Did you touch the body?”
He closed his eyes and swallowed. “God. No.”
“Where are the rest of the kids?” she asked. The only nonemergency vehicle in view was Taggert’s minivan.
“I called everyone and canceled tonight’s practice right after I called nine-one-one.” He drank from the water bottle.
Stella scanned the empty fields. “Do you know when this field was used last?”
“Games usually run until nine or ten Saturday night. Yesterday was a washout.” Taggert screwed the cap back on.
But the facility wasn’t fenced. Anyone could have wandered in.