‘Hillrose. Population: 1573’, the plain welcome sign announced as they drove past it. It was almost 9 in the morning when Ben’s car pulled up in front of the Hillrose Police station; a massive red brick building. It looked like it should be a fire station, rather than police headquarters. Kate shuddered when she left the warmth of the car, and pulled her leather jacket tighter around her to shield herself from the wind. The sky was dark, grey, and cloudy, cold rain pouring down on the streets.

The officer who greeted them was a sandy haired young man, his energetic smile and rosy cheeks were a sharp contrast for the gloomy weather. Is he even old enough to work? That was the first thought that crossed Kate’s mind. He most certainly looked like someone who has never been in the need of shaving.

“Morning! I’m Officer Tom Williams”, he said, sticking out his hand first to Kate, then to Ben. “I will take you to the crime scene. The sergeant and the coroner are still out there with the forensic team.”

They drove in silence. Kate watched the scene running past: the town hall towering over the deserted main street, a diner with its flashing pink lights and the promise of strawberry pancakes and coffee, a small park full of red and orange crowned trees, houses with the curtains drawn, then just a big field, where wild horses ran free. What a peaceful place, she thought. Then remembered why they are here and sunk deeper in her seat. Not much later they arrived to a ranch and Williams pulled up next to the other parked cars.

“We are here. This is the Swanson farm”, he said, and when Kate and Ben got out of the car, he pointed towards the shabby looking barn. “Just go down straight and you’ll find Sergeant Ellers.”

With that he turned his car around and drove away. Soon only the muddy tire tracks indicated he was ever there. The two detectives walked down the path in the cold morning light.

“Sergeant Ellers?”, Ben called out, and the oldest of the three men turned and waved a hand to indicate they found the right person. He was a tall man with broad shoulders, firm handshake, and the confidence of someone who is used to being the person in charge.

“Detective Petersen, Detective Robbins, welcome to Hillrose”. The sergeant then proceeded to introduce his companions: Adam Swanson, the owner of the farm, and a young man named Julian Anson, a journalist from the Hillrose Gazette.

“Adam found the body”, said Ellers, flicking his thumb towards the man, who in turn shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Kate did not blame him. Finding a murder victim first thing in the morning was not on the top of the list of her favourite daily activities either.

“I thought she’s still alive”, the man named Adam said, barely audible. “I thought she might have fell…” He covered his face with his hand and sighed.

“That’s all right, Adam”, the sergeant said, patting the other man on the shoulder. Kate looked away, not wanting to make the man even more uncomfortable, and that was when she noticed the blood on his boots and jeans. Following her gaze the sergeant continued. “Adam tried to help her. But it was too late.”

Kate did not reply. Adam Swanson wouldn’t be the first person who tries to look innocent by pretending to help their own victim. That’s definitely a useful way to explain away the blood on their clothes, for sure.

There was movement near the entrance of the barn and Julian turned to snap a few pictures of the crime scene techs. He recognized one of them. Aruna Sharma was not working for the Hillrose police directly, however being a local resident made her an obvious choice to be the helping hand on this case. She must have been up since dawn, but she looked as sharp as always with her dark her pulled up in a neat bun, wearing her signature red shoes and white lab coat. An aura of calmness surrounded her as she left the barn and called over to the detectives, letting them know that they can now enter.

As Julian was trying to find the best angle for the pictures, he thought about his article. The readers loved these grim stories, and he wanted to document every step of the process. Maybe he could even make an interview with one of the detectives. Finally there is something worthy of reporting about, and he was determined not to miss out on a single detail. If only he could get this story right, he might even get a chance to leave this sleepy town behind and get his old job back at the Montclaire Sentinel, or one of the other, better newspapers. When the detectives and the sergeant started towards the building, he followed them. Just before he could enter, the female detective blocked his way.

“Please wait outside”, she said, holding out her arms like she was prepared to tackle him if he put up a fight. The tensing in her jaw and the furrow of the dark eyebrows suggested, that is exactly what she expected him to do.

“Just one picture, that’s all I ask for”, Julian said, craning his neck to see past her.

“This is a crime scene, you know the rules”, she said, shaking her head.

Julian did not want to make her an enemy, it would not be a wise move. This story was big, and he wanted to remain on good terms with all possible sources.

“I’ll wait here”, he said, and flashed what he hoped to be his most charming smile. It probably worked, because the detective’s face softened, even if just a tiny bit, and she nodded before entering the barn where Julian could hear the sergeant and the other detective talking to the sergeant, although he could not make out the words.