Rain.

When you enter "The Rainiest City" into Google, your first answer will be Forks. That rain can wash away anything. Footsteps. Tire tracks. Blood.

The nights in Forks are darker than the most depraved man's soul. Whenever I look outside my office window at that inky blackness, so black no streetlight could ever penetrate it, it reminds me of the things I've lost. The friends I've lost. Friends that have died, friends that have left, friends that have simply… gone away.

But friends, or lack thereof, won't get you far in a town like this, on a night like this. What gets you far is a keen eye and a hard spirit. A sheriff's badge doesn't hurt either.

It was a heavy rain the night I got the first call, the kind of rain that makes your moustache stand on end. The flashing red and blue lights from my police car reflected ominously in the puddles. I'd seen that before, that flashing, and had never given it much mind. But tonight? Tonight, it made me pause. That red light. It flashed like blood.

Deputy Kyle approached, his face drawn. "Some kids found the body outside Carver Cafe. White female, long brown hair. Think it might be a bear attack?"'

"No," I said, gazing past his shoulder into the dark of the forest. "A night like tonight? This ain't no animal."

Normally, a description like that would send chills down my spine, but my little girl was in Jacksonville with her good-for-nothing boyfriend. For once, I was glad she was with him. Anywhere but here.

The body was splayed out like a butterfly in a glass case. Her arms were stretched out, cut open from wrist to shoulder. Even in the night, I could see her bones, pale as moonlight. They reflected the lights from the cruisers. I had to look away.

"D'you think it's a suicide?" Kyle stammered.

"Not with the way she's cut open. I don't care how determined you are. At some point you have to stop. She didn't stop."

Kyle looked around, scratching his head beneath his hat. "Where's all the blood? Do you think she was dumped?"

I looked around. Kyle was right, there was no blood.

"I expect the rain has washed away most of the evidence," I said to him. "I guess we'll never know if she was killed in this location or not."

Kyle nodded grimly. I looked closer at him and noticed that his eyes had the glassy, scared look of a weaker man.

"Is this your first homicide?" I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder.

He shook his head. "Second," he croaked. "But it doesn't seem to get any easier."

"Never does, son," I said. "Never does."

He smiled a little, his eyes now thankful and clear.

"After this," I told him, "We'll go get a couple of Rainiers and talk about whatever you want. But right now, we've got to do this lady her justice."

I looked away and followed the water flowing down the street to the storm drain a few yards off. By the metal grating, I could see something shining. I walked over, my boots sounding strangely loud on the pavement on this quiet night. I bent down. It was an umbrella. Pink in color. Innocent. The umbrella of somebody too young to die.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my last latex glove. It almost escaped me, but there was a tiny ring of red on the top of the umbrella. It wasn't decoration, at least, not any I was familiar with. It was blood, and it was fresh.

"Sheriff! We've got something!"

I looked away and back towards the crime scene. Another deputy was running out from behind the diner, something clasped close to him under his umbrella to shield it from the rain. I walked forward to meet him.

"What is it?"

"Handbag," he said breathlessly, "with the vic's ID inside."

He reached inside the pink bag and pulled out a small wallet. I flipped it open and struggled to see the lettering in the dim light with my aging eyes. Nineteen years old. Still a child.

"Deputy," I said, handing the wallet back to him. "Do you know what's strange about this handbag?"

"It's in the dumpster, and our vic is out here?"

"Partly," I said. "More that there isn't any blood on it and it's bone dry. I think our vic threw it in there before she was attacked."

"Why would she do that?" The deputy was bewildered."

"Son, this is a homicide investigation, not a game of Wheel of Fortune."