A Better Class of Angels

He stood and stepped across the narrow ditch, ignoring the hawk that protested his presence with a series of warning cries. With his gaze fixed on the leaf-littered ground he began to walk into the wooded area that separated the road from the shallow bayou. If Paige Bennett really had needed a private spot in the woods, he told himself, she might have headed for the protection of the old levee.

Then he saw it.

Staring up at him from the still-green leaf of a sweet gum tree was a tiny, round, droplet of red. A few feet away lay a second. Further still into the woods was a third. “Beverly,” he whispered into his shoulder microphone, “grab the kits.”

The growl of an engine told him that his deputy had arrived with the department’s tow truck. That meant that Beverly, who no longer needed to babysit their only witness, would be at his side in just a few moments. But a few moments wasn’t fast enough for Jack, who was torn between looking for more droplets and the fear of losing the ones he already had in his sights. He shifted his weight from side to side and craned his neck for any sign of the missing woman. Only when he heard footsteps behind him did he allow himself to relax.