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Thought you’d appreciate knowing. That’s all,” the detective said.
    She sighed, mentally going through child-care options. “Um, er, I’ll be right there. Thanks.”
    She had just filed her story about the first murder. The identity of the young woman had been revealed as Sarah Carpenter. The scrapbookers were right. She was from Jenkins Hollow. Annie had yet to piece together the story of who she was, and was hoping she could do it via the phone and the Internet. Jenkins Hollow was her least favorite place on the planet.
    “I have to go. Another murder.”
    “It’s three in the morning. I don’t want you out,” Mike said.
    “Oh, for God’s sake, Mike, I am not a child. I’ve been in worse situations—”
    “Who was it on the phone? Bryant?”
    “Yes,” she said and yawned.
    “This time of day? Who the hell does he think he is?” he grumbled.
    “He’s a cop. I’m a reporter,” she said, getting a little miffed at his tone. “I used to get calls like this before we moved here. You know.”
    “Okay, okay,” he said, sinking back into his pillow. “But I don’t like it.”
    Annie decided to ignore that remark—for now.
    “Call Beatrice in the morning. She’ll be happy to stay with the boys,” Annie said, lifting herself from the sea of warm blankets. It was early autumn—and a warm one at that—but it was chilly at three in the morning.
    She threw on a black pair of jeans, noted that they were a little tight, and went searching for a sweater to throw on over her T-shirt. She found the bathroom and tended to her teeth, brushed her unruly black hair, pulled it back, and smeared lipstick on. That would have to do. Where were her sneakers? Ah yes, she’d left them in the living room. She used to know where all of her shoes were, used to have plenty of designer flats to choose from, all lined up in neat rows in her closet. Now she could barely keep track of her old, worn-out sneakers.
    She grabbed her bag and tiptoed out of the house.
    Annie had never trusted the safety of landfills. All that trash had to be releasing toxins into the air. She didn’t allow her boys up there to play for that very reason. Even though a lot of parents brought their children there to play because of the huge open spaces, she couldn’t see it.
    As she pulled up to the parking lot, a group of red lights flashed on the far edge of the lot, near a huge recycling bin, where most of the flurry was erupting. She parked and grabbed her camera, press credentials, and recorder out of her bag. First, she saw Jesse, wiping his face with a bandanna. Then Detective Bryant’s contorted face, looking at Jesse, placing his arm around him. A gesture of unbelievable gentility from such a brute of a man. Then he saw Annie and placed his hand up, as if to say, “Stop.”
    “What’s wrong?” she called.
    “Don’t go any closer, ma’am,” she heard a female voice say.
    “Bryant called me and got me out of bed. I was invited here.”
    The officer looked confused. “Called you? We’ve been here for several hours. I don’t know anybody who gets cell phone service here. The tower over there interferes too much, along with the mountains.”
    “I didn’t call her,” the detective yelled, shaking his head. “You need to get her out of here.”
    “What?” Annie attempted to move forward.
    “Ma’am, there’s a potentially hazardous chemical here. You need to go home.”
    “Was there another murder? I need to know for the paper,” she said as the officer nearly pushed her back toward her car.
    “Yes, ma’am, but you don’t want to see what’s over there. It’s gruesome.”
    Annie noted the officer’s tone. She was serious. Annie wasn’t certain that she wanted to push on this.
    “Any details you can give me?”
    “Details?”
    “Anything about the body? Who is it?”
    “I can’t tell you anything right now. They are not letting me get close enough to it. They’ve called in the CDC.”
    “The CDC?”
    “Centers