When he reached Section C, he noticed a small strip of turf along the right edge of the headstone had been disturbed. The grass had been pried up like a flap of carpet, loosened earth piled neatly beside it, and then pressed back down with a shoe heel. Daniel dropped to his knees and dug his fingers into the loosened soil, pulling back the sod.
Three inches beneath the surface lay a sealed plastic sleeve. Daniel didn’t open it. His hands were shaking too violently. He pulled out his phone and dialed the Oakridge Police Department. “I need to speak to Detective Shaw. It’s about my daughter’s grave.” Detective Helen Shaw arrived twenty minutes later.