Free Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead by Lena Diaz

stood at the edge of Sharon Johnson’s lawn, in a suburb of Charleston, South Carolina—not Brunswick, Georgia, the postmark on the envelope—staring at the burned-out skeleton of what once was a majestic home. In one weak moment, Tessa had compromised her principles, her convictions, her work ethic, by agreeing to Matt’s foolish plan. Now the one letter that could have tied Sharon’s murder to the killer had been destroyed and, along with it, quite possibly, Tessa’s career.
    Her only hope was to figure out the killer’s identity and find some concrete evidence to tie him to Sharon’s death—before Casey discovered the letter had been switched. Because once he made that discovery, she’d be off the case, probably out of a job. And she’d never be able to bring Sharon’s killer to justice. If that happened, she’d never forgive herself—or Matt.
    She drew in a deep breath, then coughed at the lingering scent of smoke that still clung to the oak trees and shrubs, even though the fire had occurred two days ago. A woman had died, and Tessa wanted to take a moment to reflect on that. She wanted to focus on the victim rather than her own troubles and regrets before she tromped across the property, examined what was left of the structure, and boiled down a woman’s life into fingerprints, fibers, and sooty tracks.
    The home’s blackened chimney rose to the sky, strong and true. The charred rafters stuck up like the legs of a dying spider from the decimated second floor. The firemen had saved most of the first floor from the flames, but no one would ever live in this house again. It had been utterly destroyed, just like the life of its owner, who’d been found inside, dead.
    Matt stood ten feet away from Tessa, staring at the same burned-out shell. But the distance might as well have been miles instead of feet. Tessa had lost her temper at the lab yesterday evening, yelling at him for convincing her to destroy the letter. Matt hadn’t apologized. Instead, he’d calmly waited until she ran out of things to say. Then he’d quietly suggested they fly to South Carolina the next morning to investigate the crime scene.
    She’d agreed, but only because she didn’t have a better alternative. She needed his help, per the agreement she’d signed with Casey. Like it or not, she was stuck with Matt for now. With him, she had very little chance of saving her career. Without him, she had no chance.
    When they’d arrived at the Charleston airport, she’d called and arranged a meeting with Charleston PD’s chief of police. But the meeting wasn’t due to start for another hour. The chief had a heavy caseload and had to rearrange his schedule to speak to them. So after they rented a car and drove into town, they’d filled the awkward silence between them by going straight to the crime scene.
    Without bothering to look her way, Matt started toward the house. But instead of stopping at the front porch steps as Tessa expected, he lifted the yellow caution tape the fire marshal had tied around the railings and ducked underneath.
    Outrage boiled up inside Tessa. “Matt, don’t!”
    He didn’t acknowledge her. He broke the paper seal on the front door and went inside.
    Tessa stood frozen, shocked at what he’d just done. She stared at the dark, gaping entryway, and the same resentment she’d felt during the Simon Says Die case slammed into her. Then, like now, his youthful arrogance had him running roughshod over an investigation, second-guessing those in charge, ignoring the opinions of others far more experienced than him. And now, like yesterday when he’d switched the original letter for a copy, he was dragging her down with him.
    She flexed her right hand over the holster on her hip and started after him.
    M ATT WALKED THE perimeter of the family room. Everything was coated with a fine layer of soot and ash, clumped and bleeding down the walls because of the water that had been pumped inside to douse the fire.