“See if whoever is on scene makes sure the victims stay dry,” I said, opening the cabinet and pulling out my thick coveralls. They were the easiest thing to squat and maneuver in since a big coat got in the way. I topped the coveralls with a thin rain slicker, put on thick socks and rain boots, and pulled a toboggan down low over my ears.
Jack had stepped out of the room to make the call and I could hear his voice in the background but I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. There was a knot in the center of my chest—a heaviness that made it hard to draw in a deep breath. I knew sound was happening around me, but all I could feel was pressure in my ears and the rush of blood.
I’d been in some of the most high-pressure situations imaginable. I’d worked relentless hours in the ER on little to no sleep, and I’d done what I’d been trained to do when life and death hung in the balance. Never had I wavered or faltered. I just did my job because it’s what needed to be done.
Even when coming face to face with a killer or my father, I’d always been steady. I hadn’t always been strong enough to fight back, but I’d been steady, even accepting as death had loomed over me.
But something was unraveling inside of me. The last time I’d had an anxiety attack was when I’d finally come back home to Bloody Mary. When I’d almost died at the hands of Jeremy Mooney, I’d tucked my tail between my legs and run. I’d resigned as coroner and closed the funeral home. But I’d known I couldn’t stay gone forever, and I’d crept back in the middle of the night with that pressure on my chest and the memory of those fingers wrapped around my throat, cutting off the air.
I dropped back onto the built-in bench and put a hand to my chest. I tried to take in deep breaths, but the pressure in my chest wouldn’t allow it. My skin went hot and then just as quickly went cool and clammy. Was I going into shock? Was I having a stroke? Why now?
I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I didn’t want Jack to find me like this. There was too much at stake for him to be worrying about whether or not I could do the job. And I sure didn’t want him trying to take on more of the load himself.
The clanging in my ears stopped and I could hear Jack still talking on the phone. This time I focused on his voice, on the words he was saying, and I felt my pulse start to slow. The breaths I was struggling to take started to come easier, and I opened my eyes and felt the world come back into focus. My palms were sweaty and my breathing was still rapid, but I could—and would—function.
I’d just gotten to my feet and was taking my bag off the hook when Jack came back in. He narrowed his eyes at me and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “I’m just worried about Doug.”
“You’re white as a sheet,” he said.
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
Jack studied me for a few more seconds, and I thought he was going to press the issue, but thankfully, he let it go.
“I just got off the phone with Smith,” Jack said. “He called for a makeshift tent to be set up over the victims. It’s coming down pretty hard out there. The initial 911 call was made about fifteen minutes ago. Smith arrived within a couple of minutes, checked the victims to see if there was a pulse, and when he found none, he called in for backup and started work on securing the scene. He said EMTs arrived about five minutes later and confirmed death. They’re sticking around to see if any witnesses need medical attention.”
We went out the side door, and Jack set the alarm, securing the door behind us. Then he took my keys to the Suburban. There was no point in taking two vehicles, and I was glad he was driving. We had a garage with some of Jack’s toys, and a car he’d bought for me, but somehow our work vehicles always ended up parked under the portico that connected the house and the garage, and the cars in the garage mostly went unused.
“Gang related?” I asked once we’d gotten in the Suburban.
“I don’t know. The theater wasn’t crowded, but Doug and a few other kids were hanging out under the marquee. Smith said a yellow car pulled up and opened fire, and then he sped off. There’s an APB out on the car, but nothing so far.”
“You need to call Carver,” I said. “Doug’s mom will want to know.”
Jack sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”
I adjusted the heat so it was blowing right on me, and tucked into the seat with my arms crossed over my chest. I was cold, and was having a hard time getting warm. Jack had his earbuds in, so I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Jack laid out the facts and told Carver he’d keep him updated every step of the way.
The wipers swished rapidly and I could see the rising water in the ditches along Heresy Road. Jack hung up with Carver and then immediately got on the phone again, calling the station to make sure anyone who was on duty was out driving the roads to check for flooding. The last thing we wanted was to deal with citizens out driving around and ending up drowning on top of everything else that was going on.
There was only one movie theater in the county and it was in King George Proper, not far from the university. It was a good half-hour drive with the rain slowing us down, and I was worried about the wet and dropping temperature and how it would affect the victims. The good news was we had a pretty exact time of death. The other good news for me was that cases like this were pretty straightforward. I’d recover the ballistics during the autopsy and let the police do their jobs.
Old Towne Cinema had opened after I’d graduated from college, so I’d never been much of a patron. And now that Jack and I spent most of our time in the community with our work, when we did go to movies, we made sure to leave the county.
Old Towne housed twelve theaters in a concrete block of a building, but the front had a huge old-school marquee outlined in red and there was a clock tower reminiscent of the one in Back to the Future above it. The parking lot wasn’t well lit and the trash can out front overflowed with soggy popcorn buckets and oversized soda cups. I noticed the news van parked just outside the perimeter that had been set up, and the crew was out in matching blue rainsuits and setting up a portable awning to protect the cameras.
I wasn’t too worried about them. The crime scene wasn’t visible from our side of the crime scene tape. Smith had done a good job setting up the tent over the bodies so curious onlookers couldn’t see and the victims were protected.
Jack parked behind a couple of patrol cars. I lifted the hood of my rain jacket and tied it tight under my chin, and I went ahead and put on latex gloves over my leather gloves to keep from ruining them.
“Time to get wet,” I said, and put the strap of my bag crossways over my body.
I’d been scanning the area and I hadn’t seen Doug yet, but I knew Smith probably had him and any other witnesses back inside the theater and out of the cold.
The tent was nothing more than a couple of poles and a blue tarp, but it had done the job and the victims lay mostly dry. A couple of high-powered lights had been set up and shone directly on the victims. It was a perfect still shot that told a story right up until the moment their lives had been taken.
“They’re just kids,” I said, looking at the roundness of youth in their faces. A red umbrella lay upside down a couple of feet away from the boy. A small yellow purse had fallen next to the girl.