Page 20 of Not This Night

Ethan, who’d been examining the room, turned back towards them. "Dr. Marquez," he interjected, his tone shifting the focus. "Anything about turquoise? Any found on or near them, or at similar scenes?"

"Turquoise?" Marquez echoed, her brow furrowing. "No, nothing of the sort here. And I can't recall any recent cases with it either."

"Any significance in Native American culture you're aware of?" Ethan prodded further, his curiosity evident.

"Turquoise is sacred in many tribes," Marquez offered, her words slow, thoughtful. "A symbol of healing, protection. But its role varies widely among different peoples. To pinpoint—" she sighed lightly, "you'd need someone far more versed in the nuances than me."

"Understood," Ethan nodded, exchanging a look with Rachel.

"Thank you, Doctor," Rachel said. "Can we see Heather Sinclair's personal effects?"

"Of course," the coroner replied, leading them to a metal table where a series of clear plastic bags lay arranged by name.

Ethan stayed with the coroner, murmuring questions that Rachel half-heard as she focused on the task at hand. She picked up the bag marked 'Sinclair', feeling the weight of the life it represented—a life cut brutally short. Her fingers worked quickly to open the seal.

Inside, Heather Sinclair's wallet felt heavy in Rachel's hands. She unfolded it, revealing the compartments stuffed with the detritus of everyday existence. Receipts. The paper trail of a life. She sifted through them methodically, her eyes scanning for anything out of place.

"Any chance they knew each other?" Ethan's voice filtered through from behind her, but Rachel's attention remained fixed on the receipts.

"Nothing so far to suggest a connection," Marquez answered.

Rachel's fingers paused on a slip of paper, its edges frayed from time or worry—or both. A receipt from Artifacts. Her pulse quickened slightly. This was no ordinary purchase; Jenna's boyfriend had mentioned this store. A bracelet. She studied the date, then the itemized list. Expensive, too expensive for a casual buy.

"Dr. Marquez," Ethan said, his tone pulling Rachel back from her thoughts, "could the trauma inflicted on Jenna have been done in self-defense?"

"Hard to say without more context," Marquez admitted.

"Context," Rachel muttered under her breath. This receipt was context—a clue, a piece of the puzzle they were desperately trying to assemble. She slipped the paper into her pocket, a lead they would surely follow.

"Anything?" Ethan glanced over, catching the tail end of her discovery.

"Possibly," she replied, not lifting her gaze from the remaining items. "Thanks, Dr. Marquez," Rachel said, tucking the wallet back into the evidence bag.

"Of course, Ranger Blackwood. Morgan." The coroner nodded to them both, her expression solemn yet professional.

The desert heat clung to their skin as they stepped outside. Grains of sand crunched underfoot, mirroring the restlessness that settled over Rachel.

"Rae, what's on your mind?" Ethan asked, his brow furrowed as he watched her.

“Rae? That’s new.”

“Yeah, well… it fits. You’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

She scowled at him.

He grinned. “See—there it is. That sunny disposition.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t take the bait. “Gonna cancel our date if you call me Rae again.”

Ethan looked momentarily wounded by this, so she quickly added, “Just kidding.”

“You called it a date,” he said, pointing.

She felt her cheeks warm, and she hid a sudden grin threatening to betray her inner thoughts.

She shook her head, her thoughts sobering as they moved back to the waiting vehicle. She pulled out the receipt she'd pocketed earlier. "This could be the link we've been searching for."

Ethan leaned in, examining the paper she handed him. "Artifacts," he read aloud, the name rolling off his tongue with a hint of curiosity.

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