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Detective Mackenzie White braced herself for the worst as she walked through the cornfield that afternoon.
There was a dead, mostly naked body of a thirty-something female tied to a pole, her face frozen in an expression of anguish.
This was not what happened in the cornfields of Nebraska.
There were remnants of his work on his small desk: a purse, an earring, a gold necklace, a chunk of blonde hair placed in a small Tupperware container. They were reminders, reminders that he had been assigned this work. And that he had more work to do.
People were searching for him—as if he were the one who had done something bad. They just didn’t understand. What he had given that woman had been a gift. An act of grace.
“Well, let’s get the obvious out of the way: you’re young and you’re female. You’re essentially the brand new computer that’s coming into the office to take all of the jobs. You’re also a walking encyclopedia for forensics and investigation from what I hear. Throw in the way you chased down that poor journalist today, and it’s the complete package. You’re the new breed and they’re the old dogs. That sort of thing.” “So it’s a fear of progress?” “Sure. I doubt they would ever see it like that, but that’s what it boils down to.”