The ME was still giving the once over as I stared down at that hand. It had rained last night, but no more than usual. It made the ground into a muddy muck in Raleigh Park, though. It was hard to tell where the mud ended and the blood began. The piece had almost fallen out of her hand. Everyone tried to fill in the story of what happened, but it came up fuzzy. The best tall one that went about was she was a spy, and it was a deal that had gone wrong. Who knows? It could be true. The only thing we knew for sure was that someone else had been here from the prints in the mud, and the bullet that got her wasn't from the gun she had.
Whatever kind of meeting had gone down here, both sides thought that the guns would solve their problems. That's never been my experience.