Miles could feel the sense of discovery that floated over the crime scene. The discovery wasn’t from the victim, who had only felt terror and desperation. The sense of discovery was from the killer. He was finding something he’d lost. He was excited while he killed.

He shuddered and then continued looking for trace materials that might lead the team to the killer. There was a small tuft of fabric imbedded in one of the blood pools. Miles tilted his head and looked closely at it for a moment. It was small enough that it would be difficult to tell what it had come off of. He tagged the item, took a picture and then collected it.

“Find something?” Emery asked, tilting his head inquisitively.

“I think the killer is… looking for something the victim has,” Miles replied softly. More loudly he continued, “A small tuft of fabric.”

“I’ll tell you what it is once I have a chance to analyze it. Any trace on it?” he said softly.

“There’s something that doesn’t belong on it,” Miles said with a shrug. “We’ll see what soon enough.”

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