Mike moved quickly and efficiently, wearing plastic gloves as he examined Zoe’s body. He removed her shoes, lifted her dress... Everything he did was precise, like a real cop.
But just as he was about to unbutton her shirt–
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” shouted Chaz, who rushed forward and grabbed Mike’s arm, stopping him from going any further.
Chaz was a fitness instructor and the strongest in our group. With him stepping in, Mike couldn’t move.
“Don’t mess with Zoe’s clothes!” Chaz growled.
Mike twisted his wrist, clearly annoyed. “I’m investigating a case. I can’t overlook any detail! You didn’t object when I moved her dress, but now you’re flipping out over her shirt?”
Chaz was at a loss for words, but luckily for him, Casey stepped in to smooth things over.
“Zoe was a very modest person,” Casey, our friend and a psychologist, explained. “I don’t want her dignity to be stripped away in death.”
Casey always knew us well, and she knew Zoe best. Zoe had lost her parents when she was young and had grown up moving between the homes of kind neighbors. Her difficult upbringing had left her sensitive and fiercely protective of her dignity.