The phone on my desk rings and I hold up a finger.
“Coroner’s office.”
“Doc, Blackfoot here. Got any news for me?”
I shoot a glance at Rob, who is sipping his coffee.
“Nothing formal.”
He must’ve heard the hesitation in my voice when he asks, “You’re not alone.”
“No.”
“Okay, tell me this much then; were you able to confirm our suspicion?”
“Again, nothing formal, but yes.”
“Right. Word of warning, then. I just got off the phone with Dunwoody senior and told him we’re waiting on the outcome of the autopsy, and he is not a happy man. He’s on his way to your office. VanDyken is close behind but may not be in time to intercept him.”
My eyes immediately go to the window looking in the direction of the lobby, but the only person I see is Janey, my assistant, sitting at the front desk.
“Thanks, Keith. I’ll keep my eye out.”
“Something wrong?” Rob asks when I end the call.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I assure him, just as I see the victim’s father blow in and stalk past Janey’s desk. She launches from her chair and attempts to block him.
I’m up and rounding my desk as I watch their face-off in the hallway outside my door.
“Can I help you?”
I have to call out over their raised voices to be heard when I notice Rob falling in step beside me.
John Dunwoody is indeed not a happy man. In fact, looking at the man I’m worried about his health as well. His face is beet red and sweaty, veins standing out on his forehead, and the angry eyes he pins me with look almost feverish.
“I never consented to an autopsy,” he snarls, spittle flying as he shoves Janey aside, pointing a finger in my direction.
“John, why don’t we—”
Dunwoody’s sharp gesture cuts Rob off mid-sentence but his eyes never leave mine.
“Mr. Dunwoody, I’m sorry, but your consent isn’t required in this case,” I quickly explain, as I see Jay come through the front door.
“Everything okay here?” he asks, looking straight at me.
I nod at him as Dunwoody swings around. “I want my son.”
“I’m the wrong person to ask.” Jay shrugs, focusing his attention on the pastor.
“If you give me a few minutes, I’ll make sure he’s ready for Mr. Wenner to transport him to the funeral home,” I jump in.
Janey already retreated to her desk and while Rob distracts Dunwoody with some funeral details, I slip down the hall to see if my team is done with the body. Even without looking up, I recognize Jay’s heavy footfalls following me. Not hard to do, since the man wears boots the size of small barges.
Another thing I’ve tried not to notice about him. Like the much-too-serious clear-blue eyes or the neatly maintained beard he’s been growing. I guess I should count myself lucky his personality leaves something to be desired. The only evidence there is some life behind the poker face is the occasional flash of heat in his eyes.
Just as I’m pushing open the heavy door to the morgue, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
“Hold up.”
His voice is a rumble and I’ve noticed his mouth barely moves when he speaks, which isn’t often. At least not around me.
I let the door swing shut again and turn to look at him.
“What’s up?”
“Have anything for us?”
“Unless the lab results show something new, it looks like young Dunwoody mixed alcohol and amphetamines, his heart gave out, and he was dead before the car even left the road. His hand never left the steering wheel.”
“Jesus.”
He runs a hand through his hair and for some reason, the man who normally comes across as emotionless suddenly appears almost human.
Shit.
Jay
It still affects me even after twenty or so years.
Senseless death.
Another young life taken because of recklessness, a false sense of invincibility, and a chain of really fucking stupid decisions. It happens too damn often and never fails to make me angry. And sad.
“You okay?”
I like the sound of her voice; strong and unapologetic, not overbearing, and with a smoky quality. She sounds like the first sip of a good scotch hitting your taste buds and it fits her perfectly. Everything about Meredith Carter is strong and unapologetic. She exudes the kind of easy confidence that can only come from being completely at home in your own skin.
I meet her questioning eyes. “Yeah, I’m good.”
She tilts her head, as if she’s weighing the truth of my words, before she gives her unruly gray hair a shake, turns, and reaches for the door again.
“I’ll let you know when the lab results come in,” she throws over her shoulder before pushing it open.
It’s a dismissal of sorts, but one I ignore as I lean against the wall outside the morgue, waiting for her.
Just a few minutes later, she appears again and seems surprised to see me still there.
“I thought you’d be gone,” she says.
“I’ll go when Dunwoody does.”
She rolls her eyes but wisely doesn’t argue with me. Not that it would make a difference, I’m gonna stick around until I can be sure the pastor doesn’t try to take out his grief on her again.
The two men we left standing in the hallway outside her office have made their way to the small waiting area off the lobby. They get to their feet when we walk in and I’m relieved to see the older man appears to have calmed down some.
“Paul will meet you at the back, Rob,” she tells the funeral director before turning to the father. “Mr. Wenner will take good care of your son and I’m so terribly sorry for your loss.”
He glares at her for a beat and without saying a word, turns his back, and heads for the door.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him,” Wenner says, giving Meredith’s shoulder a squeeze before nodding at me and following the man outside.
I watch until the pastor is in his car, pulling out of the parking lot before I turn back to the lobby, only to find Doc Carter gone. The woman behind the desk smiles at me.
“She has a busy schedule,” she volunteers with a shrug.
I nod at her and am on my way to my cruiser when my phone rings.
“VanDyken.”
“Meet me at the boat launch at Lake Nighthorse and bring the doc. Hiker found remains,” Blackfoot clips.
“On my way.”
I sign off, turn on my heel, and head back inside.
Walking right past the front desk, I move straight to the doc’s office. She’s on her computer and looks up when I enter.
“Still here?”
“Got a call. We’ve got remains found at Lake Nighthorse, Blackfoot called for us.”
She’s already out of her chair and lifts her bag on the desk, before she shrugs into a windbreaker identifying her as coroner. “As soon as my guys finish handing the body over to the funeral home, we’ll be right behind you.”
“Tell them to follow when they can. You can ride with me.”
Not sure what moves me to push, but the prospect of spending the fifteen-minute drive with her in the confined space of my cruiser is an appealing one.