THE FLASH REFLECTED in her lifeless eyes.

Nathan Miller stood over the corpse while a crime scene photographer dutifully recorded the grim details. With another click, he illuminated her almond-colored skin and the deep bruising around her neck.

A chill wind swept through the lane, howling in Nathan’s ears. His beige trench coat flapped against his legs, and he turned away from the breeze. Morning dew ran in rivulets down the green trash bags surrounding the body. The stench of rotten vegetables and sour milk made him wish to be gone before the sun rose past the restaurant shielding the alley.

Red and blue lights swirled at the entrance, painting the dark brickwork in a ghastly shade. Nathan tightened his collar and blew into his hands. He rubbed them together for warmth.

The click of high heels on pavement brought his attention back to the grisly tableau. His partner, Tommy Roquefort, ushered the medical examiner beneath the raised yellow crime scene tape. Felicity Hoenink’s designer scarf and peacoat complemented her heels.

Nathan stepped to the side. “Good morning, Dr. Hoenink.”

Hoenink ignored his attempt at pleasantries, dismissing the comment with a stern look. She bent near the victim’s waist and set her leather satchel on an evidence step.

Tommy nudged him. “Hell of a way to start the weekend, am I right?”

Hoenink pulled latex gloves over her tapered hands and snapped the elastic band on her wrists. Right to business, she lifted the victim’s chin and started her examination. “What do we know?”

Nathan shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. “Scan of her Identchip verifies our victim as Saimah Latif, formerly twenty-three years old. Born in Syria, she was here on a student visa.”

Hoenink lingered over the angry purple marks around her neck. “She attended UVA?”

Nathan answered, “Second year pre-law.”

“Makes this all the more tragic, don’t it?” Tommy said. “Lord knows the world could use more lawyers.”

Hoenink raised her eyes to him. “Do you fancy yourself funny, Detective?”

Tommy shrugged. “I can be.”

“I’d get a second opinion on that.” Hoenink returned her attention to the body. “Nothing about this is funny, Detective. If you want laughs, go work at a comedy club.” She looked at him over her glasses. “Otherwise, can the routine. We clear?”

Nathan stepped between them. “He’s clear.”

“Good.” Hoenink asked, “Where’s Detective Diaz, anyway?”

Nathan risked a smile. “With respect, Doctor, why would she drag her ass out of a warm bed early on a Saturday morning, when she has us?”

Hoenink stared at him for a beat and then gave a slight nod. “I suppose you have a point.”

Nathan stepped around to the other side of the body. His protective booties rustled with the movement. “Too early to ask for a cause of death?”

“Not too early to ask, but too early to expect an answer.”

“It looks like she was strangled,” Nathan offered.

Hoenink glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “You are, in fact, not the medical examiner here, correct?”

Nathan stayed quiet. He bit his tongue and waited for the rest of her rebuke.

“My job is to determine what it is, Detective. Not what it looks like. Yes, she does have ligature marks on her neck, but I will not proclaim cause of death until I conclude my examination.”

“What if you had to guess?” Tommy asked.

“Guess?” She pinched her brow.

“Yeah,” Tommy pressed. “An educated guess. You know, so we can get started finding the perp who did this.”

“A guess does you no good, Detective.” Hoenink rose from her crouched position over the body and placed both hands on her hips. “In your line of work, I’d think you’d recognize the importance of facts over guesswork.”

“What?” Tommy asked, “You never trust your gut?”

“I trust what I can prove, Detective. As should you.”

Tommy started to reply before Nathan put a hand to his chest and silenced him.

Nathan said, “We think it happened somewhere else, and then she was dumped here. Can you confirm that?”

Hoenink answered, “Given the nature of her injuries, the lack of blood spatter doesn’t prove she was killed elsewhere. However, temperature of the body places time of death at no later than twelve hours ago.”

She checked her watch and continued. “That means she was dead somewhere between seven and eight o’clock last night. Given she was a student at UVA, and the state of this neighborhood, it’s a reasonable assumption to go on that she wouldn’t have reason to be here on her own.”

Hoenink lifted a finger to caution them. “But, we can’t know for sure. She may have had a boyfriend in the area. Or another friend. Your department, I’m afraid.”

“Thanks for narrowing down the time period. Roc, file the request for tracking the last twenty-four hours on her Identchip. We’ll leave you to your work, Doctor.”

“Thank you.” Hoenink stepped around the corpse. “Detectives. I will conduct the post tomorrow, should you wish to attend.”

“We’ll be there,” Nathan said. He removed his booties, crumpled them in his hand, and left the scene.

Tommy fell into stride beside him. “Don’t know about you, but I can’t wait for that. Such a joy to work with, she is.”

Sunlight chased the shadows in front of them as they exited the alley.

“Maybe if you didn’t make a joke of everything.”

“What’d I do?”

Nathan slugged him on the shoulder. “You’re a laugh riot. Get in the car before we’re late for roll call.”