“Yes. Dr. Vines is in the back. Let me tell him you’re here. You can walk right down that hallway and make a left. His office is the first door on the right.” The girl used her long, stiletto acrylics to signal which direction.
“Thank you.” Inari faced Kong, and the two of them started in the direction she’d given.
Locating the door of Dr. Paul Vines, Inari took a breath and tapped on it.
“Come in!”
Turning the chrome handle, she braced herself and pushed the door open. Dr. Vines was tall and slender with thin-framed glasses and a low-cut fade. In navy slacks, a plaid button-up shirt, and his white coat, he lifted his head from the paperworkon his desk and viewed her in the doorway with Kong behind her.
“Ms. Jacobs, hello.” He stood and moved around his desk to extend his cold hand to her. “I am so very sorry for your loss. Please have a seat.” He motioned toward the two chairs in front of his desk.
Inari lowered herself into one, but Kong refused. Instead, he remained standing slightly behind her, leaning against a table with a bunch of licenses, diplomas, and other certifications arranged. Kong took note of each accolade and where it came from. Dr. Vines picked up a file from his desk and flipped it open. He remained professional, measured, and detached. In his line of business, it was necessary.
“Ms. Jacobs,” he began, voice even. “I’m going to walk you through the findings as clearly as possible.”
Inari didn’t respond; she only nodded. Dr. Vines stared down at the file.
“Remains were recovered from a vehicle fire consistent with an explosion event. The level of thermal damage was… extensive.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “The body was severely burned. We’re looking at third to fourth degree burns across the majority of the surface area. In some regions, there was complete charring.”
Inari’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. Meanwhile, Kong remained with his back against the shelf behind him, one arm tucked over his chest, and the other propped up against it while stroking his beard.
“Due to the extent of the burns, visual identification was not possible. We relied on circumstantial evidence and recovered personal effects.”
His last line lingered, and Inari let it echo for a minute before tuning in once again. Dr. Vines flipped a page.
“Prior to the fire, there is evidence suggesting blunt force trauma.”
“What kind?” she asked, eyes sharpening slightly.
“Primarily to the torso and left side,” he told her. “Rib fractures, at least three. There are also indications of soft tissue damage consistent with impact. Possibly from a collision or physical struggle prior to the explosion.”
None of this sat right. Stomach tightening, mouth salivating like she wanted to throw up, Inari closed her eyes. Ayla’s face flashed beneath her lids, and she saw her in that fire all over again. Holding onto tears, she nodded, and Dr. Vines continued.
“There is also evidence of inhalation of smoke and combustion byproducts.” Dr. Vines looked up briefly. “That’s significant.”
“Why?” Inari pried, voice quieter now.
“Because it indicates that she was alive at the time of the fire,” he conveyed.
Silence filled the room. Heavy. Thick. Inari swallowed, hard. His tone unchanged, Dr. Vines went on with his report.
“Cause of death is listed as a combination of thermal injury and smoke inhalation. In simpler terms, she succumbed to the fire.”
Inari’s fingers curled against the arm of the chair, and she didn’t even realize she’d started gripping it. Hearing the gory details of what happened had her physically ill. She still tasted alcohol from last night on her breath, even after brushing her teeth, and all she wanted was to drown in another bottle.
“The fetus?—”
“Fetus?” Kong’s face balled into a confused grimace.
Inari nibbled on her bottom lip and side-eyed him but didn’t budge. A single tear slipped, and he caught it when he stepped up beside her. His head gradually swiveled in her direction. The medical examiner looked confused as hell.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were aware. She was twenty-six weeks pregnant. Due to the condition of the remains, determining a separate cause of death for the fetus is not possible.”
Kong’s heart stuttered. He studied Inari, but it was obvious from her reaction that this wasn’t news to her, as her gaze drifted to the cold linoleum, and she shut her eyes. The crack in his deep baritone rocked her to her core. She couldn’t watch his eyes glisten with fresh tears because she knew she would only break down further.
“It is presumed that the fetus did not survive the same event,” Dr. Vines concluded.
Presumed. That word meant something to her. It wasn’t solid. It left question marks instead. When she opened her eyes, they locked on the examiner.
