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county's forensics van lumbered toward the main
road. The rugged, pockmarked side street forced the van and hearse to move at a
slow crawl. Seeing the hearse gave her pause. This was her first murder story
since last summer. If the police had been half hour later last July, she'd have
been removed from the scene in a hearse.
    Mike,
her cameraman, stopped the van on the side of the road. He stood just under six feet and his weight hovered under two hundred. He
looked fierce but he was one of the most even-tempered people she'd ever met.
"I doubt I'll be able to get the van down the road."
    "Yeah."
    "You
okay?" When Mike had visited her in the hospital last summer, the sight of her
had brought tears to his eyes. She had been surprised he'd care so much. They'd
barely known each other, having worked together for only a year.
    During
that visit and any other visit from friends, she'd been the upbeat one. She'd
cracked jokes about bedpans and male nurses until she'd eliminated the unease
and coaxed smiles. On some level she'd understood that if she made people feel
good around her, they'd not abandon her. So, she'd become adept at telling
everyone that she was fine.
    Kendall
cleared her throat. " Please. And I want lots of footage of the hearse."
    Mike
tossed her a glance. Relief flashed in his eyes. "Will do."
    She
realized he was worried about her doing her job, just as Brett was worried.
This story was going to be make-or-break for her. She had to prove she was
really back on the job.
    Mike
shoved the van in park and rolled out the driver's door in one fluid movement.
He opened the side door to a neatly organized mobile studio. He hefted his
camera on his shoulder. The green light on the camera clicked on, signaling he
was taping.
    Kendall
slipped off her heels and put on her hiking boots before grabbing her pad. She
glanced out her window, saw the mud, and scooted toward the driver's-side door.
Her coat snagged on a torn piece of vinyl on the seat, forcing her to pause and
tug it free. "Mike, when are you going to get this seat fixed?"
    "Talk
to 'the king.'" Annoyance dripped from his words every time he referenced
Brett. "He's Mr. Budget Cut."
    Brett
did whatever it took to get the story at the cheapest rate possible. He'd step
over anyone or knife anyone in the back to get the scoop for Channel 10 or save
a buck. Few liked Brett, but as long as ratings were high and the budget was in
the black he was tolerated.
    Mike
stood in front of the van and raised the camera.
    She
scooted out the door and moved behind Mike, who was now shooting. The cold air
whipped off the river and cut through her coat. "All go?"
    "Like
clockwork."
    "You're
sure? We're the only TV crew here and I don't want to mess this up."
    He
waggled his eyebrows. "Chill. I always get the goods."
    That
made her smile. "Mike, when have you ever known me to chill? I'm good because
I'm such a domineering diva."
    He
kept his gaze straight ahead. "I ain't commenting."
    Mike
rolled tape as the hearse reached the main road and pulled onto the
hard-surface road. It quickly picked up speed and soon rounded the bend a half
mile away and vanished from site. The forensics van followed. The driver, a
woman, shot Kendall a stinging glance.
    Mike
clucked. "What's with the look?"
    "Disdain
is part of the job." She glanced at the police car blocking the entrance to the
side road. "I'd love to get down to the river and see what the cops are up to."
    "It
won't be by that road," Mike said. "The cops aren't going to let us in."
    "You
think you could find another way down?" she asked.
    "Maybe. Might mean some hiking."
    "No
problem."
    "Hop
in."
    They
drove past the officer positioned by the development's entrance. Mike signaled
to the officer that they were going to turn around.
    "We're
going to have to hustle," Kendall said. "He's going to expect to see us
returning soon."
    "Right."
    He
drove down the rutted road another half mile. Kendall pressed her hand to the
dash and planted her