Living in Florida brought insufferable heat, humidity so heavy that it was hard to breathe and bugs that seemed to multiply like rabbits and were triple their size.

Today, though, was a milder day, Mother Nature taking the day off like Willa was. The sky was blue with a few scattered clouds, and not much else, including the usual jet contrails criss-crossing the sky.

The only interruption to Willa's satisfying afternoon was the squawking of crows overhead. If she had her weapon, she'd fire off a shot to make them go away.

Just when she thought she'd get through the day without being disturbed, her cell phone chirped. She groaned and picked it up.

Without checking to see who was calling, she said, "This better be good."

"I wouldn't exactly call a body good news, boss," Deputy Clyde Gladstone said. "Down at the Crafter Ravine. It's not a thing you really want to see, though. Kinda turns your stomach a bit."

She ignored his analogy of the body. "Be there shortly."

She went inside, took a quick shower which consisted of a speedy once over with bath soap, an ever speedy rinse and she was done. She skipped the blow dry. The dead body wouldn't care how she looked. She didn't care about the living.

On her way out, she grabbed her holstered Glock, belted it on before she got to the car and headed out to the crime scene.

Willa walked ahead down a narrow concrete walkway to the last cabin on the strip. It had a rustic look about it. It sat on a spit of land overlooking a lake. A long wooden dock allowed access with boats tied at the end.

A young woman was stretched out at a strange angle, her head resting on a seat. A red line stretched from one side of her neck to the other, blood which dripped out of the wound where her throat had been cut, trickled down into her white shirt.