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victim was found, an experienced detective could all but predict the circumstance, the motive,
    34 RI CHARD Montanari

    sometimes even the weapon. There was always a revelation, but very few surprises.
    This day was different. It spoke of a special evil, a depth of brutality that Jessica and Byrne had rarely experienced.
Parked in the vacant lot across the road from the crime scene was a food-service truck. There was only one customer. The two detectives crossed Flat Rock Road, retrieving their notebooks. While Byrne interviewed the driver, Jessica spoke to the customer. He was in his twenties, dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, a black knit cap.
Jessica introduced herself, showed her badge. “I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” Pulling off his cap, his dark hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it aside.
“What’s your name?”
“Will,” he said. “Will Pedersen.”
“Where do you live?”
“Plymouth Valley.”
“Wow,” Jessica said. “Long way from home.”
He shrugged. “You go where the work is.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a brick mason.” He pointed over Jessica’s shoulder, at the new condominiums being constructed along the river about a block away. A few moments later Byrne finished with the driver. Jessica introduced Pedersen to him, continued.
“Do you work down here a lot?” Jessica asked.
“Almost every day.”
“Were you here yesterday?”
“No,” he said. “Too cold to mix. Boss called early and said bag it.”
“What about the day before yesterday?” Byrne asked.
“Yeah. We were here.”
“Did you get coffee about this time?”
“No,” Pedersen said. “It was earlier. Maybe seven o’clock or so.”
Byrne gestured to the crime scene. “Did you see anyone in this parking lot?”
Pedersen looked across the street, thought for a few moments. “Yeah. I did see someone.”
“Where?”
“Back by the end of the parking lot.”
“Man? Woman?”
“Man, I think. It was still kind of dark.”
“There was just the one person?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see a vehicle?”
“No. No cars,” he said. “None I noticed, anyway.”
The two abandoned vehicles were behind the building. They were not visible from the road. A third vehicle could have been back there.
“Where was he standing?” Byrne asked.
Pedersen pointed to a spot at the end of the lot, just above where the victim was found. “Right to the right of those trees.”
“Closer to the river, or closer to the building?”
“Closer to the river.”
“Can you describe this person you saw?”
“Not really. Like I said, it was still kind of dark and I couldn’t see too well. I wasn’t wearing my glasses.”
“Exactly where were you when you first saw him?” Jessica asked.
Pedersen pointed to an area a few feet away from where they stood.
“Did you get any closer?” Jessica asked.
“No.”
Jessica glanced toward the river. You could not see the victim from that vantage point. “How long were you here?” she asked.
Pedersen shrugged. “I don’t know. A minute or two. Had my Danish and coffee, walked back to the site to set up.”
“What was this person doing?” Byrne asked.
“Nothing, really.”
“He didn’t move from where you saw him? He didn’t walk down toward the river?”
“No,” Pedersen said. “But now that I think about it, it was a little weird.”
“Weird?” Jessica asked. “Weird how?”
“He was just standing there,” Pedersen said. “I think he was staring up at the moon.”

7
    As they headed back to Center City, Jessica scrolled through the photographs on her digital camera, looking at each one on the small LCD screen. At that size, the young woman on the bank of the river looked like a doll posed in a miniature setting.
    A doll, Jessica thought. It was the first image she’d had when she saw the victim. The young woman looked like a porcelain doll on a shelf.
    Jessica had given Will Pedersen a business card. The young man promised to call if he