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press, although that didn’t seem to stop them from reporting what they thought we had.
    The recovery would take days and the remains would eventually be moved to Bemidji to the crime lab. Either Troy or myself would have to be at the excavation site during the time when the crew was working. The other would help handle dispatch calls and inquiries from law enforcement officials and reporters across the Midwest.
    As Leslie left the room, she stopped me. “I was hoping you’d be lead on the case, Cal. I enjoy working with you.”
    â€œThanks, but I expected Troy to get this one—he’s senior—and it’s a big one.”
    â€œYeah, but there’s something else going on with your sheriff. Way I see it, she’s either trying to win his favor or rebuild his fragile ego by all the pandering she’s doing. As far as I’m concerned, you solved the Kohler case.”
    â€œIt was teamwork.”
    â€œPerhaps, but I’ll see to it you get credit for your part on this one.”
    â€œI’m not worried about who gets credit.” I was lying. I did care.
    â€œYeah, but Troy is, and that’s my problem with him.”
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    After spending hours on the phone contacting law enforcement departments who had left messages, I was happy to hear from Troy. He’d forgotten the camera and asked me to bring it out, which meant I could get off the damn phone.
    As I approached the Ronson Development turn-off on Highway 51, I could see a line of media vans parked up and down the highway. Reporters and photographers were standing in a group outside the closest van, and when they saw my vehicle pulling up to the check-in point, they began moving as a herd toward me.
    â€œGood morning,” I said.
    â€œWhat can you tell us?” one shouted.
    I held up my hand and said, “Nothing yet.”
    â€œHow long before the body is identified?”
    â€œIs it Silver Rae Dawson?”
    The deputy on duty, Levi Anderson, moved the barricade and waved me through. I watched the crowd retreat. Levi was one of our youngest and biggest deputies. He handed me the clipboard and I signed the login.
    â€œHow long have they been here?” I asked.
    â€œAll night. They were here when I came on at eleven.”
    Leslie pulled in behind me with a container of Northwoods coffee and a large box of pastries and Styrofoam cups. We set the goodies on Adriana’s picnic table outside the sliding patio doors. A handwritten sign saying “Feel free to use the bathroom” was taped to the glass.
    Adriana came out dressed in a red suit. She always did look good in red.
    â€œI could take off today as well,” she said.
    â€œWhy would you?” I said.
    She shrugged. “Well, the patio door is unlocked . . . Cal, don’t look so troubled. You’ll solve this, you know.”
    I nodded.
    When she went back into the house, Leslie said, “See? She has confidence in you as well.”
    â€œWe used to date.”
    â€œAh. I thought I picked up a vibe.”
    I smiled. “You’re just picking up all sorts of vibes today, aren’t you?”
    â€œThat’s part of our job—to read people.”
    â€œI may need your skill set to help me read people .”
    â€œDon’t sell yourself short, Cal. Doughnut?”
    â€œYou bet.”
    I brought the camera down to Troy, who was wearing shorts and an old department T-shirt like the one I had thrown in the car. Since all the crewmembers were wearing shorts, I changed into mine and joined Troy to help where I could: transporting buckets of dirt or fetching something for someone.
    Sheriff Clinton called Troy before lunch saying she was bringing lunch out, and wanted to know how many people were there. When he hung up, he said, “S’pose you’ll change back into your uniform before she gets here.”
    â€œHey, I’m the rule follower here, not you, and I say let’s stand up to