Page 70 of What Lies in the Woods

“Okay.” I took a breath, released it. Calm. I could do calm.

“Sit. Eat. Relax. I’ll see if I can turn up anything more,” he said. He eyed the tabs in the browser skeptically. “Do you ever close tabs?”

“I might need them later.”

“One of them is playing ‘Old Town Road.’”

“I usually just mute the computer when that happens,” I said. “Easier than finding it.”

He sighed and sat down to work.

After I’d eaten, with Ethan still rooting unsuccessfully around the internet for signs of my assailant, I went on a pilgrimage to the ice machine. When I stepped back out of the alcove, bucket of ice in hand, I found Chief Bishop waiting for me.

“Jesus Christ,” she said as soon as she saw me. “Who the hell did that to you?”

“There was a scuffle over the bouquet, and I caught an elbow,” I said. She blinked at me. “I’m a wedding photographer. Sorry, bad joke. I got mugged.” Close enough.

“Here?” she asked in disbelief.

“I was back in Seattle shooting a wedding.”

“You didn’t mention you were leaving town,” she said, hand on her hip. She’d parked her car slantwise across two spots, right next to mine.

“I didn’t realize I had to check in with you about it,” I replied.

She frowned at me. “Olivia’s death has been ruled a suicide. We’ve released the body. The funeral is on Tuesday,” she said.

My balance faltered. I managed not to stumble, but only just. It was official, then.

“I think it’s a mistake,” she added flatly.

“You think Liv was murdered?” I asked. She nodded. “Then why—”

“I’ve been in this town six months. I’m new, I’m not from here, and my job exists up until the exact moment that Jim Green tells the city council to get rid of me,” she said, voice thick with discontent. “He made it very clear that it was time tomove on. But I don’t buy it. That girlkilling herself that way, when she was terrified of guns and blood and everybody in her life, you included, was watching her like a hawk for the slightest hint of suicidal ideation? Yes, I think she was murdered. But if I don’t sign that paperwork, I don’t have a job and can’t do anything about it. So here we are.”

I tried to take a full breath to steady myself; pain lanced through my ribs. “I think you’re right,” I said.

She tapped her fingers against her belt. “We checked that pond three times. We’d just about given up. But Dougherty absolutely insists it’s there, so I drag my ass out in waders one last time, and miraculously, we find it. Maybe we missed it. But I don’t think so.”

“You think someone dumped it in the pond after you’d already searched it. Someone like me?” I tried to look composed and confident, but it was hard with a bruised face and an ice bucket dangling from one hand.

“You’re hiding something,” Bishop said. “That makes me uneasy.”

“Everyone’s hiding something,” I said softly. “I need to go ice my face. Unless you actually need me—”

“Actually, I’d like you to come down to the station. That’s why I stopped. We’ve been trying to call you.”

“My phone was stolen. Mugged, remember?” I said.

She grunted, unimpressed with my excuse. “We’ve got a couple of loose ends that need tying up. For the paperwork, you understand.”

“Fine,” I said, waving a hand. “When?”

“Tomorrow. Ten o’clock,” Bishop replied.

“Fine,” I repeated. I just wanted out of this conversation. Bishop gave me one last level look before she headed back to her car.

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