It was a short walk from the administrative building that was Fitz"s home to the little cottage that had once been Ritchie"s. There were several rolling hills between, enough to tuck the cottage out of sight from even the vantage point of the balconies on the top floor, but it was still so short a walk that Ritchie could well remember the many times she had traversed it at a dead run.
Not that they took it at any kind of a hurry. None of them seemed that eager to get to a crime scene. Instead, they strolled along the gravel path through the grasslands, soaking up the warmth of the midday sun and listening to the many birds that called to each other, most unseen but a few perched precariously atop blades of grass that didn"t look strong enough to support even their tiny weight.
The scent
