The lab report was four pages. What it came to was this. Both pieces were from the same garment, a men’s white cotton dress shirt, size 16½–34, navy thread at the placket, initials D.C.M.

But they were torn from different places. The piece in Emily’s hand came from the upper sleeve. The piece in the belongings bag came off the cuff — and the cuff piece carried surface deposits the sleeve piece did not. Petroleum residue. Forecourt grit. The specific filth of a gas station apron.

“Different tears,” Barrett said. “Different times. Different places.”

“Meaning what?” I said.

“Meaning she tore his cuff somewhere else first,” Reyes said, “and kept it.”

She looked up. “Deputy, the station on Route 40. Cameras?”