please hold.

1- fear is human

8:35 a.m., Monday, Heathrow Police Department

Pam rushed through the squad room. She started towards Rabaya's desk. "Ara!" Nothing. Her earphones were on.

"Ara!" she yelled a little louder.

Artemis Rabaya glared at Pam. Ara was twenty-six, brunette, trimmed short, tall and fit, with evergreen eyes that could cut through. She had a green streak of hair running down front. It was her asset. "It's unusual for a cop to have dyed hair," the chief once commented.

"Unusual is my thing."

"Pam," she protested, "I can't believe you've done this." She showed Pam her phone screen. She was in the middle of Somebody to Love, Queen. Pam grimaced.

"I'm a horrible friend."

"I know. What's the call?"

Pam inhaled. "It's Cap. He's in the woods with some uniforms."

Ara leaned in, interested. This was where she came in. And she came in good. "A body?"

Pan nodded. "It's worse. She's from a missing persons case. Four years ago. Her body was just discovered now."

Ara knew this was tough. Coming from Robbery-Homicide's Open-Unsolved, cases were a bit different. But this was new. And this was much, much worse.

The young detective leaped out of her chair and put on her blazer. "Pam," she ordered, "call Cap. I'm coming. I won't be so long." Then she sprinted out of the squad room.

*****

9:04 a.m., Left-Handed Woods

The officers circled around. They did this kind of thing quietly, not wanting the media to stir. But there were always some leaks. And this was a story that would make it big time in the news.

Captain Laurence looked at Rabaya. "See that?"

The body was female, probably in her late forties. She looked Asian— Filipino, perhaps. Ara shivered. She was hung from a tree, with stab wounds all over her. It looked like she was hung after she'd been stabbed. But the Captain was pointing to a cardboard sign dangling from her neck, with words written in bright red.

"Fear is human," Ara read aloud.

"No shit," the Captain cursed. "Ara, your case. We'll have her ID soon. Coroner's good. You go get your friend, Anne. She's good at this type of case. I think it's best for the media to know," he continued, "so someone can come forward and identify her."

Ara nodded. She was reluctant to inform the media, because she knew that they'd be on their tail from the first report. But at least she was doing this with Anne. Besides, she thought, I'm getting a little rusty. This ought to do the trick.

"But first," she told the air, "I'd like to get myself a 'ccino."