by Malone, Cara
“Not just yet,” Amelia said. “Can you come outside and help us locate a body?”
Jordan nodded and pulled on a pair of gloves. Amelia did the same, then passed the box around. The four of them went through the rear door, where three identical tractor trailers were parked, their refrigeration units quietly humming.
Amelia pointed to the middle truck, the one that had been on Balch Street yesterday. Jordan unlocked and rolled up the door, and they all climbed aboard.
“We’re looking for Jane Doe number eight,” Amelia told them.
“Eight?” Simone repeated. “That’s awful.”
Amelia nodded. “Don’t worry—we’ll find out who all these people belong to.”
There were small identifying tags attached to the zippers of each body bag. They all hunted around until, a minute later, Tom said, “Here she is.”
“Do you need anything more than the caliber of the gun today?” Amelia asked. “We’re still working on truck number one right now, but I can bump her autopsy up the list.”
“No, you’ve got a system going,” Tom said. “Just the caliber is fine for now.”
Amelia unzipped the body bag and felt Simone draw in a breath beside her. Jane Doe had only been dead about twenty-four hours, and the refrigeration had arrested decay for the time being, but she was much paler now than she’d been yesterday. She was tragically young, and laid out like this, it was obvious that her neck had been broken, probably thanks to the high winds.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Amelia asked softly.
Simone nodded. “She’s just a kid. And what’s wrong with her arms?”
Amelia followed the direction of Simone’s gaze. She was looking at the purplish splotches on her triceps. “It’s called livor mortis—her blood has settled on the lower portions of her body because her heart’s no longer moving it through her veins.”
Simone sighed. “When I encounter dead bodies on the job, it’s usually right after they passed, or I’m holding them as they die.”
“That’s a very difficult thing to handle,” Amelia said. It had happened to her a couple of times during medical school, and that helpless feeling was a large part of the reason she’d gone into forensic pathology, where she could avoid it.
She pulled the sides of the bag open with Simone’s help and found the small evidence bag she’d tucked in with the body, containing the bullet. She held it out to Tom, who grimaced slightly. “Couldn’t you have washed off the blood?”
“You’re wearing gloves,” Amelia pointed out. He took the bag and she zipped Jane Doe back up. “Come back inside and I’ll sign that evidence over to you, then you can do whatever you need with it.”
She took them back through the morgue, stripping off her gloves as she went, and decided that this was a task they could do in her office so nobody had to endure the sights, sounds and smells of four simultaneous autopsies while they did the paperwork. She told Jordan to prepare the next body, then brought Tom and Simone to her office at the front of the building.
It was a nice room, the best-furnished office in the place since she was the most senior pathologist. Not that she’d chosen any of it—picked by her retired predecessor—or saw it very often. She only ever came here to check emails and write up case findings. And she’d been in her office even less in the last couple of days. Her lunch bag from yesterday was still sitting on her desk, but she’d had no time to eat it.
While Amelia filled out a chain of custody form, Tom lifted the evidence bag to the light of the window. “Looks like a nine-millimeter, but I’ll have my forensics guys verify.”
“Does that tell you much?” Simone asked.
He snorted. “Not really. Cal Thomas doesn’t have one registered, but it’s one of the most common calibers out there, so it doesn’t narrow down the field of suspects.”
“So, what are you thinking?” she asked. “There’s no way that many people could have been completely unaware there was a stranger in their house, right?”
“It seems unlikely,” Tom conceded. “I showed Cal one of the photos Kelsey took at the scene. Was kind of wondering if he was having an affair or something. He said he’d never seen her before and seemed convincing.” He shrugged. “Who knows? One of the teens could be lying about knowing her.”
“Why would they?” Simone asked.
“No clue,” Tom said. “Who can understand the mind of a teenaged boy?” He tucked the evidence bag into his pocket and said, “Well, I better get this to the police forensics lab, then I’m going over to the hospital before they release Noah.”
Amelia held the form out and he folded it, then stuck that in his pocket too. He said goodbye, and then it was just Amelia and Simone in the office.
“You didn’t drive over with him?” Amelia asked.
“Nope, I’ve got my own ride.” She was smiling at Amelia, drinking her in. “I’m glad I got to see you again.”
Warmth crept up Amelia’s neck. Was it wrong how much she liked it?
8
Simone
Amelia was studying Simone openly, like she had when they were in that van together yesterday. Her eyes swept over Simone’s face, down to her dark blue uniform, and her lips curled into a smile.
“Did you really come all the way down here just to tell me what your crew found at the scene?” she asked. “Tom could have done that.”
Simone shrugged. “Do I really need an excuse to get away from that rag-tag crew for a little while?” Amelia laughed, conceding the point, then Simone added, “Plus, I kind of wanted to see the chief ME in her domain.”
Amelia looked down at the wrinkled scrubs she was wearing and said, “I’m afraid it’s not that impressive at the moment. We’re all just trying to keep our heads above water.”
“You’re not the only ones,” Simone answered.
“Speaking of, I should get back,” Amelia said. “Jordan’s probably ready for the next autopsy.”
“When’s the last time you ate?” Simone asked. She’d noticed the lunch bag on Amelia’s desk when they first sat down. It looked like the type you normally keep refrigerated, and from the way Amelia had been talking, it seemed unlikely that she’d take the time to eat it in any case.
Amelia looked toward the ceiling, trying to recall. “I had a peanut butter sandwich for dinner yesterday.”
“Well, it’s past lunchtime now,” Simone pointed out. She stood and beckoned Amelia with a wave of her hand. “Come on, there’s a food truck parked a block away.”
Amelia shook her head. “I can’t. Jordan’s waiting for me and–“
“You can, or you might end up collapsing on the job,” Simone said. When Amelia still hesitated, she added, “I’m a firefighter—I know how to take care of people. You need to eat.”
She didn’t mention that her own stomach was also rumbling, but there was a good chance Amelia had heard it anyway.
“Jordan–“
“–can wait,” Simone finished for her. “Especially if you bring her something from the truck.”
Amelia rolled her eyes and laughed. “You sure are persistent. One minute.” She picked up her desk phone and called back to the morgue to tell Jordan where she was going. She promised to be quick and bring food for everybody working back there. Then she hung up the receiver and stood. “Okay, let’s go.”
Simone laughed. “Don’t act so much like I’m leading you to the gallows. It’s just street food. What do you have in that sad little lunch bag, anyway?”
“A day-old egg salad sandwich,” Amelia said, and Simone made a face.
“Eww, and you kept it on your desk?”
Now it was Amelia’s turn to laugh, an unrestrained one that lit up her whole face and was quite beautiful. “Not intentionally. I think I dropped it in the parking lot yesterday when the tornado siren was going off. Somebody must have found it afterward and left it here for me.”
“Well, let me help you with it,” Simone said, dumping the contents into a trash bin besid
e the desk. “Now, let’s get some decent food. I’m glad I insisted.”
Amelia nodded, her gray eyes sparkling. “Me too.”
Outside, the weather had turned to a fine mist, uncomfortable, like being a vegetable at the grocery store when the sprinklers turned on. Amelia fished an umbrella out of her bag and opened it between them. It was small, so they had to huddle together as they walked, and that was fine by Simone.
“Let me hold that,” she offered. “I’m taller.”
Amelia appraised her. “Only by a couple of inches.”
Simone took the umbrella anyway, fighting the urge to wrap her arm around Amelia’s shoulder. She could smell the rich, sweet aroma of her perfume, alluring even though it was underscored by the antiseptic smell of the ME’s office.
“I’m glad you decided to take a break with me,” she said as they walked. “I was contemplating forcibly dragging you out if you didn’t agree.”
Amelia laughed. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded if you did. I don’t know if you noticed, but I tend to be a bit of a workaholic.”
Now it was Simone’s turn to laugh. She let her eyes go mockingly wide and said, “No way.”
Amelia bumped her shoulder. “I’m sure you know what it’s like as a woman in a male-dominated field. It’s hard to make people take you seriously unless you work twice as hard as everyone else.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve told way more dick jokes than I ever wanted to, all in the name of being ‘one of the guys,’” Simone said. “I want to make captain one day, though, so I do what it takes.”
“Will that be a difficult climb?” Amelia asked.
“I hope not,” Simone said. “I became a lieutenant relatively young, and the guys all respect me. Proving that I’ve got leadership skills—particularly while I’m training the probies—will go a long way toward showing them that I’m ready for the promotion. What about you, Ms. Chief Medical Examiner?”
“I sort of got lucky,” Amelia said. “Don’t get me wrong, I worked my ass off all through medical school and my residency. But I started working for Fox County about five years before the previous chief retired, and we really clicked professionally. He took me under his wing and basically mentored me into the position. I’m trying to pay it forward now with Kelsey—she’s going to med school.”
They talked easily all the way to the food truck, without any of the awkward silences that were so common in the getting to know you stages of a new relationship. Their shoulders were pressed together in an effort to stay under the small umbrella… or maybe that was just an excuse to be close to each other. Simone liked to think it was the latter.
When they got to the food truck, there was no line thanks to the weather. This one was of the Mexican persuasion and Simone barely needed to glance at the menu. She went first since she was only ordering for herself and Amelia was ordering for half her staff, but when she reached for her wallet, Amelia batted her hand away.
“Let me get your lunch.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Simone said. “It’d hurt my pride.”
“Consider it a thank you for getting me out of the office for a few minutes,” Amelia insisted. She used her hip to playfully shove Simone aside, then added her own order and two dozen assorted tacos for her staff.
She paid and they went over to a picnic table to wait.
“You better sit beside me—otherwise I don’t think the umbrella can cover us both,” Simone said.
They sat with their backs to the table, looking out at the street. From here, Simone could see a little way down the road toward downtown, and it looked completely unremarkable. Sitting here, you’d never know there were three dozen dead from a tornado that had ravaged the city only the day before.
It just looked like an ordinary rainy day.
Ordinary except for the gorgeous woman whose hip was pressed up against Simone’s on the picnic bench beside her.
While they waited for their food, Simone quizzed Amelia about herself—what got her into forensic pathology, what she did outside of work… and whether there was a significant other in the picture. It never hurt to ask.
At that, Amelia laughed. “You heard the part about me working twice as hard as everyone else, right? What makes you think I have time to date?”
Simone smiled. “I get the impression you don’t take much time for yourself in general. But I can’t talk—I’m always either at the firehouse or on call, especially now that I’m trying to move up the ladder.”
“Not down the fireman’s pole, so to speak?”
“Poles have never been my thing,” Simone said, and Amelia snorted.
“Me neither.”
“Would you want a partner if you did have time?”
“Yeah, of course,” Amelia said. She didn’t even hesitate and that made Simone smile. “You?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you ever worry about it?” Amelia asked.
“About what?”
“We’re already working our asses off as women in male-dominated fields,” she said. “Add a girlfriend into the mix–”
It was something Simone had thought about—of course she had. But she shook her head, adamant. “I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me that my sexual orientation affects my performance as a firefighter. And I’ve been fortunate—everyone I’ve worked with has been accepting.” She smirked and added, “Only I’m allowed to let my career keep me from finding love.”
Amelia laughed. “Sounds like you should stop standing in your own way.”
“What about you?” Simone asked.
Amelia smiled. It started as just a small curl of the lips, then turned into a full-on grin. “You’d be surprised how many queer women there are working in the medical examiner’s office. It’s not a problem at all, so we’re all lucky too.”
“And yet you’re not dating any of them?” Simone asked.
Amelia looked at her like she was crazy. “They’re all my subordinates. It would be wildly unethical.”
“Lucky for me,” Simone answered. “I don’t work for you.”
Then the taco truck owner leaned out the window with a couple big bags stuffed with food. “Order up!”
“Do you want to eat here or go back to my office?” Amelia asked.
It was nice being alone out here with her, but Simone pointed to some pretty ominous-looking storm clouds gathering overhead. “Probably safest to go back to your office. Plus I’m feeling pretty damp right about now, like those people who ride the boat right up to the base of Niagara Falls.”
“The Maid of the Mist.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Simone handed off the umbrella and went to get the food bags. She offered Amelia her elbow, and was surprised when she took it. They ambled back toward the ME’s office, and Simone told Amelia about the time she and a bunch of high school friends went up to Ontario to hang out in the casinos for a weekend for no other reason than that they were old enough to gamble in Canada.
“I ended up getting drunk and kissing my best friend, who was not into it,” she said, cringing at the memory. “Not my finest weekend.”
Amelia wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “Did it ruin the friendship?”
“For a while,” Simone said. “But we got over the awkwardness and I learned how to read signals better. Which is not to say that was my last crush on a straight girl.”
Amelia laughed. “Story of my college life. Small, conservative campus, slim pickings for baby gay Amelia.”
“I bet she was adorable though,” Simone said. “I woulda gone for it.”
She laughed again. “How old are you, anyway? Were you in elementary school when I was in college?”
Simone feigned offense. “I’m not that much younger than you.”
“Are you sure?” Amelia challenged. “How old do you think I am?”
Oh shit… she’d walked right into that trap and she may have been younger than Amelia, but she was old enough to know that
was one question you never wanted to have to answer—especially when you were crushing hard on the asker. She thought for a second, then said, “Old enough to have crazy-attractive confidence, and young enough to take a chance on my dumb ass. I hope.”
Amelia snorted. “Good save.”
“Thank you.” Simone breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m forty-two,” she said, studying Simone for a reaction.
“Middle school.”
“Huh?”
“I would have been eleven when you were starting college,” Simone answered. “That’s not even close to an appropriate relationship, but I’m thirty-three now.”
They were turning into the parking lot of the ME’s office, and Amelia pointed toward the refrigerated trucks.
“Let’s go in the back door,” she said. “I didn’t buy enough food for everybody so it wouldn’t be fair to trail the scent of tacos through the halls.”
“Playing favorites?” Simone teased.
“More like being realistic about how many tacos it was fair to ask that poor guy at the food truck to make,” Amelia said. “I should definitely buy the whole staff pizza or something this week, though.”
“Good idea. Maybe I could bring my crew over and they can all mingle,” Simone suggested. It was purely an excuse to spend more time with Amelia, but she managed to bullshit her way into a pretty good idea. “Firefighters and death investigators don’t see each other all that much in the field, but our paths do cross. It’d probably be good to get to know each other better.”
Amelia nodded. “I like that idea.”
Just then, the sky dimmed. In the space of a second, it was twilight, and Amelia looked up at the dark clouds above them. Simone dragged Amelia over to the narrow overhang above the back door just as the sky opened up and it began to pour.
“Why does this keep happening to us?” Amelia laughed, quickly rolling up the bottoms of her scrubs to keep them from getting soaked.
“Bad omen?” Simone suggested, though she hoped it wasn’t that.
“Maybe the opposite—the universe wants us to get closer,” Amelia said, the reply surprising Simone. She collapsed the umbrella—it wasn’t doing them much good under the awning—and took the takeout bags out of Simone’s hands, putting them on a bench next to the door.