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her face was almost unrecognizable, maybe from being in the water so long. But, he saw no indications of the damage a collision with a ship would have done.
    “The accident report makes no sense. There is no way she died the way the police said she did. I argued her death wasn’t an accident, over and over again. The last time I went to the station, they told me not to come back. They threatened me with harassment charges unless I backed off. But I know it in my heart—Miranda was murdered, like Rainey. I can’t prove it and I can’t let it go. Will you help me?”
    Breeana had lost two friends in a month? Both to supposed water accidents? What was the law of averages against it? Sully didn’t like the odds. “I’ll check into it, I promise. Did Rainey and Miranda know each other?”
    “Yes, of course. We grew up together and went through grade school and high school at the same time. We were best friends, Lieutenant. Actually, Miranda was the other woman in the photo you saw at Rainey’s house.”
    “Sullivan…call me Sully.” He didn’t like coincidences, and he didn’t like where this was going. The cell phone chirped on his belt. He grabbed for it, glanced at caller ID, excused himself, and moved out to the hallway to take the call. It was the medical examiner. “Marie, what do you have for me?”
    “I found a fresh cigar butt smashed between the flagstones near the hot tub, Loot. I’ve already verified it didn’t belong to anyone viewing the crime scene. I’m sending it now for DNA, but it could be months before I get results. And if the perpetrator isn’t already in the system, we’ll need someone to compare it with.”
    “Well, well. Nice work, Matisse.”
    “Hey, I’m the best, as you already know. I also did a vaginal swab. No semen present and there are no obvious signs of vaginal tearing or bruising. The victim doesn’t appear to have been raped, based on cursory examination. I won’t know for sure until I do the complete post mortem tomorrow.”
    Sully glanced over his shoulder to make sure Breeana wasn’t within earshot. “I’m thinking the guy who killed her got off on admiring his handiwork.”
    “Ain’t that the truth? Imagine standing around smoking a stogie at the scene of the crime. The creep must have brass balls, but it wouldn’t be the first time some sicko got his rocks off by killing a woman.”
    “You see everything in our business, Marie. Listen, I need an exhumation on a woman named Miranda Greene. I don’t think her father will fight us on this one. From what I understand, the Mallard Bay squad may have botched the investigation into her death.”
    Marie’s shrill whistle shot through the phone. “I’ll start the paperwork, Loot.”
    “Please. She and Rainey Dubé were tight, had been friends for years. Greene died a month ago, an accidental drowning on Lac St-Louis, according to the MBPD.”
    “What? Another floater? You think she was helped along?”
    “Damn straight, but we won’t know for sure until you exhume the body and run the forensics.”
    “Okay. I’ll call in some favors and get the court order ASAP. One question…are you talking serial killer here?”
    “Bite your tongue, Matisse. It’s possible Greene died of natural causes.”
    “Oh, sure, and maybe pigs fly. I’ve never known your instincts to stray off course.”
    “Let’s wait for the evidence. It will tell us where we need to go from here.”
    “I’ll be sending up a silent prayer to God and all the angels. I hope you’re wrong.”
    Sully disconnected the call and rejoined Breeana in the living room. She still looked vulnerable and shaken. For some stupid reason, he wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right.
    Sure, like that would happen. First off, she was a potential witness in this murder investigation. And second? Sully freely admitted to being the king of commitment phobes. His live-on-the-edge life and dedication to the job didn’t allow