“Yes,” Marcus said, opening his leather folder. “Specifically, the post you uploaded yesterday afternoon.”

Julian laughed softly, a dry sound. “My wife is a food blogger, Detective, not a suspect in anything.”

“I’m sure she isn’t,” Marcus said, his voice flat and professional.

He pulled a sheet of high-quality photo paper from the folder.

It was a color printout of the lead image from my latest recipe post—the roasted chicken.

The photograph was crisp, taken with the expensive DSLR camera Julian had bought for the website.

“You take very detailed photos, Mrs. Vance,” Marcus said, holding the paper up.

“I try to,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.

“We ran some routine image scans on local web traffic today,” Marcus said, looking from the paper to me.

“Why would the police be scanning a food blog?” Julian asked, his voice losing some of its warmth.

“We have automated alerts for certain visual signatures,” Marcus explained.

He laid the printout on the small marble table in the entryway.

He pointed a thick finger at the bottom left corner of the photo.