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But Rose was already at the marina. “Sara, I’m looking at his boat. There’s blood on the deck. Fresh.”
Madsen pointed to a tarp-covered shape near the compactor zone. “Contractor saw a bag snagged on the scale. Not household waste.”
“Rose, we need eyes on Voss. Now.”
The morning fog hadn’t lifted from the harbor when Sara Garrett’s phone buzzed with a text she’d been dreading: “They found something at the WMA.”
The medical examiner pulled back the tarp. Inside a torn black bag was a man’s blazer—expensive wool, singed at the edges—and a single dress shoe. No body. But inside the blazer pocket: a wallet. Sara’s hands trembled as she opened it.
She remembered the fight they’d had the night before he disappeared. Porter had screamed, “You think you know what’s buried here? You don’t know half of it.”
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