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“They parked there”—he gestured to a small pick-up truck—“at approximately 9:15 a.m. and started down the path. A reflection caught the dad’s eye and he spotted the body.”
    “No one else saw anything?”
    “Only two other people were in the lot. We talked to both of them—I have their names and tags. Nothing unusual.”
    “Thanks.” He glanced over at the attractive, petite Simone Charles who’d been a rising star in the forensics unit two years ago. He hadn’t seen her since he’d returned.
    “Is that Sam Garcia?” Simone asked. “I heard you were back.”
    “I am. Good to see you again, Simone.”
    “Too bad it wasn’t over drinks with the old gang. Where’s my victim?”
    “On the cliff.”
    “Terrific.” Into her radio she said, “Ty, grab my rappelling gear and backpack.” She turned to Riley and smiled. “Good to see you again, Riley. How’s your sister?”
    “Working too hard, as usual. She and her husband go on vacation next week—if Dean wraps up this big case he has going.”
    “They deserve a break.” Simone glanced over at the smear of blood. Her causal expression changed to all-business, her cool demeanor returning. Simone had always been about the job, and Sam could see that hadn’t changed in two years.
    Ty, Simone’s assistant, ran over with her equipment while she slipped on her gloves and squatted next to the smear. She collected samples, tested them with her kit, then announced, “Blood and tissue.” She stood up and put on her gear. “I’ll go first, then call up if I need assistance preparing her for retrieval. Otherwise, no one goes down that cliff until I say so. Got it?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Sam said and got out of her way.
    He spotted John Black cutting through the media without a glance or comment. Sam raised his arm in greeting, and John came over. “Sam Garcia. The chief said you were on my team.” He extended his hand. “Glad to have someone with experience. My last two were rookies.”
    Sam filled him in on what they knew. “Simone Charles is down the cliff with the victim.” He looked over to where Simone’s assistant Ty was peering down the cliff, communicating with Simone on their radios.
    “Violent weekend,” John said. “I just came from a bar where the bartender was bludgeoned to death, all for a couple bills and baseballs.”
    Sam jerked his head toward John. “What bar?”
    “Dooley’s in Old Sac. You been there?”
    His heart sank. “The victim—it wasn’t Patrick Dooligan, was it?”
    “No. Mack Duncan.” John assessed him. “You know the proprietor?”
    Sam nodded, relieved Dooley hadn’t been murdered, but upset about Mack. “All my life. His grandson is my best friend. Mike Murphy, a trauma surgeon at Sutter. I also knew Mack. What happened?”
    “There’s been a rash of robberies downtown. This the first fatality.” John eyed him. “You know Shauna Murphy, then.”
    “Mike’s little sister.”
    “Not that little. Protective of her grandfather while also prying. I suspect she’s going to dig around some more, and that won’t be good for my investigation, or her safety.”
    “You want me to talk to her?”
    “That might be a good idea.”
    Definitely not a good idea.
     
     
     
     

Chapter Four
     
    As soon as Shauna knew Dooley was going to be okay if she left for ten minutes, she agreed to meet Austin at the small coffee house around the corner. He was already there, drinking a latte, and she waved at him, before approaching the counter.
    Hal, the owner, came over as soon as he saw her.
    “We heard,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Shauna. Does Dooley need anything?”
    “Just friends for now,” she said. “He wants to reopen as soon as the police tell him he can.”
    Hal slid over a mug of black coffee and refused her money. “When Denise gets in, I’ll go over and talk to him. Make sure he’s not drinking too many pints.”
    She stirred a teaspoon of raw sugar into her coffee. “I appreciate it,