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you apply for a warrant to search the house, camper, and shed? We got permission to enter and search for Mrs. Richardson, but we need a warrant to search for evidence.”

“Sure! I’ll get right on it.”

I explained that I was in my personal truck and didn’t have my onboard computer with me, which was why I needed her help. I then provided her with all of the information we knew so far. After relaying a message from Baylor that he would be late for lunch, I thanked her and ended the call. Next, I called the Baton Rouge Police Department and asked them to make an in-person death notification to Mike Bell. I told them the particulars and asked that they tell Mike I would call him as soon as I had more information.

While waiting to hear back from Amy on the search warrant, I stood there and visually examined the enclosed space. There were garden tools hanging on pegs on the opposite side of the room. Everything looked to be in its place. I moved beside Baylor and squatted next to Mrs. Richardson’s body. She was dressed in a robe and slippers and she was lying on her back. Her eyes were closed and, had I not known better, I would’ve sworn she was sleeping. She looked so peaceful.

I visually inspected every inch of her body that was visible. When my eyes reached the left side of her head, I noticed a thin line of clear fluid originating from somewhere inside her ear canal. It had leaked to the outer portion of her lobe.

“It looks like she hit her head pretty hard,” I said, scanning the ground around her. There were no signs that anyone had been here, but I didn’t expect to find much on this solid surface. “She either fell or she was pushed—and it’ll make a big difference which one it was.”

Baylor nodded. “One’s an accident and one’s a murder, right?”

“Well, it depends,” I said. “If there was no intent to kill or inflict great bodily harm and he simply meant to push her—to commit a simple battery—then this could go down as manslaughter. Now, if Ty straddled her and beat her head into the ground—and there’s no indication that’s what happened—it might be a murder.”

“Might be a murder?”

“If he was having a psychotic episode at the time he pushed her, even manslaughter would be a tough sell.” I pulled out my cell phone and called Susan. “Hey, do you think you can bring my Tahoe to the scene? As soon as Amy gets a search warrant, I’ll need my crime scene equipment.”

“Amy’s at the scene?” she asked incredulously. “I thought she was still in a wheel chair.”

“Oh, no, she’s not here—she’s working from home, but Baylor said she’s out of the wheelchair.”

“Well, that’s good.” She sounded disappointed. “I was hoping I’d heard wrong and she was up and about. Give me a few minutes to bring your Tahoe. My mom’s on the way over here to watch Gracie. As soon as she arrives I’ll head your way.”

I thanked her and looked over at Baylor. “Can you stay with the body? I want to look around the neighborhood a bit. Ty’s got to be somewhere around here.”

Baylor nodded and followed me to the door, where he stood guard while I set off behind the house. Drawing upon every technique I’d every learned from Melvin Saltzman, who was Susan’s most senior police officer and the best man tracker I knew, I spent the next thirty minutes searching for sign. Not finding any, I stopped searching when Amy called to say the duty judge had signed the search warrant. I thanked her and returned to the front of the shed just in time to see Susan pulling into the driveway with my Tahoe.

“Want me to hang around in case Ty comes back?” Baylor asked.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it,” I said. “Susan and I will be busy processing the scene, so it’d be nice to have someone watching our backs.”

After retrieving my crime scene kit, Susan and I went to work. It was a small shed and there wasn’t much evidence, so it didn’t take us long to process the scene. Once the photographs were shot, the measurements recorded, and the sketch drawn, Susan helped me turn Mrs. Richardson’s body over so I could check her back.

With gloved hands, I inspected the back of her head. I frowned and waved for Susan to feel the back of her skull.

“It’s fractured,” I said. “She hit the ground hard. She might’ve been pushed.”

“Where do you think Ty could be?” she asked after gingerly touching the back of the elderly woman’s head.

I glanced out the door, where Baylor was still standing guard. “I don’t know, but his mom once told me that every time he leaves, he always comes back home. When we’re done with the scene, maybe I’ll hang around and see if he shows up.”

“I can set up a guard and see if he returns,” she said. “That way you can get some other things done.”

“I have to canvass the neighborhood anyway, so I’ll be around.” I straightened. “I’ll let you know if I need someone to hang around.”

I set out to swab several points of interest in search of DNA evidence, and then I dusted every smooth surface in the shed. I was hoping some fingerprints might help tell the story about what happened here last night, but, unfortunately, I only recovered a few smudges and one legible print from the outer rim of the inside knob on the door. I didn’t feel very optimistic about that print, because the person didn’t necessarily have to touch the outer rim to turn the lock, so it could’ve been a print that was left by Carol or Ty at any point in time.

After we had finished processing

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