Tessa hated the register drawer more than the blood on it.
Blood made sense. Blood belonged to bodies. It dried, cracked, stained, and told anyone with eyes that a person had been hurt badly enough for the floor to remember.
The drawer looked ordinary.
That was worse.
Coins still sat in their wells. A five-dollar bill had dried into the corner. Two receipts curled under the spring clips. The front edge was dented where Zunoder's shoe had kicked it shut, so the camera would see a rescue instead of a cashier bleeding beside the counter.
Tessa held the evidence box against her ribs and refused to think about the warmth inside the plastic.
Waddell had sent two soldiers with her. Jade had insisted on names before movement now. Names made people harder for the route to flatten into scenery.
The woman in front had introduced herself before opening the service hall door. "Sergeant Mina Cross, assigned to front escort today."
