“There are photos in the case file,” May tried, but nobody was listening to her.
"Why don't you take a few photos, Adams?" Kerry suggested.
Pulling a camera from his backpack, Adams began snapping away.
“I feel like a tourist,” he said. “This lake is so quaint. It’s a real pity this had to happen in such a nice neighborhood.”
"Okay, let's follow the line of the shore," Kerry said.
"What are we looking for?" Adams asked.
"Anything that looks strange, out of place."
As Kerry marched along the shore, shining her flashlight from side to side, May trailed after her, feeling like the embarrassing tag-along sibling.
They walked along the path, in silence. Kerry was scanning the ground, looking for clues. She walked a couple of hundred yards, searching carefully, and then turned back. May trailed behind as they set off to do the other side. Adams walked behind the two women, swinging his own flashlight between the shore and the woods.
"All right," she said, as she reached the point where the path curved into the woods. "I think we have a good idea where the land lies. There are no obvious clues to be found near the scene, so we’ll wrap up for tonight, and start with our interviews, research, and a media briefing first thing tomorrow morning. Let's head back, now. Adams, we're going to have dinner with my parents."
May could not have felt more grateful to be excluded from this event. At last, she could head home, get her head straight and lick her wounds after this stressful evening.
But just as she was sending up a silent prayer of thanks, Kerry turned to her.
As if an afterthought, she said, "And they've invited you too for pre-dinner drinks. I can't wait for you to catch up on all my news. Shall we head there now?"
May closed her eyes briefly.
She had absolutely no doubt this evening was going to be pure, unadulterated torture.
"Of course," she said, with a grim smile, as her stomach churned with tension.