Dr. Marcus Adler asked me to preserve any evidence and store the body here because he doesn’t know when he’ll be able to perform the autopsy.
As always, I obliged.
Abbott continues seeing patients in the other room. He got to the clinic shortly after Blake and me. I sat in on his first appointment, and the poor guy was so nervous that he wrapped gauze around his own finger rather than the calico’s paw. When I pointed it out, his face turned a bright shade of scarlet that I’d never seen before on a person. Other than that, he did great.
Deciding to give the guy a break, I left him to finish up the appointment on his own. I assume it’s all gone smoothly since then because he hasn’t come to me with any questions.
Santiago and Walker should be here any minute, so I wash my hands at the surgical sink as I wait for them to arrive.
I finish gloving up when Santiago and Walker stroll into the exam room. Santiago places a chaste peck on my lips, ending the kiss too quickly.
I think we both could use a distraction and blow off some steam with each other.
Another time.
“Ready?” Walker questions as he hops up onto the counter, taking a seat.
“Ready,” I emphasize my answer by giving my blue nitrile gloves a good snap.
Santiago finds a plain, uncomfortable chair in another room and drags it in, plopping down in the seat.
I retrieve Manny’s body from cold storage and get him situated on the surgical table. After I get my prep tray together, I fall into a mindless routine. I’ve done this so many times before that I don’t have to think about it too hard.
Once I’ve removed his clothes and sealed them in evidence bags, my eyes stop on Manny’s forearm.
“Is that…” I trail off as I bend to get a closer look. A memory struggles to rise to the surface.
“Don’t contaminate the body,” Walker warns as he jumps to his feet.
“It’s my clinic.”
I get Walker’s apprehension. We’re all feeling it, but it’s different for him. Santiago and I have stakes in this, but even if Blake wasn’t a factor and Walker failed to produce results, the town would lose trust in him.
“It’s my investigation,” Walker argues back, marching forward.
“I just need to see his damn arm.”
“You two need to calm down,” Santiago says from his seat by the door.
Ignoring Walker’s hovering, I finally examine the skin on Manny’s forearm, and the detail strikes me in the face.
Blinking slowly, I right myself.
“Happy?” Walker sasses as he crosses his arms.
“It’s him,” I declare breathlessly.
Santiago joins us around the table, responding to me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Yes, this is Manny. We hate him.”
“No, it’shim.” I repeat.
Walker’s mouth pinches. “Are you okay?”
“Manny is the one who was at the clinic,” I try to explain.
Santiago arches a single brow. His response comes out slowly, like he thinks I’m stupid or losing my mind. “I’m sure you’ve had a lot of people in and out of the clinic.”
“Smartass,” I snap. Finding the right words, I attempt to clarify again. “He’s the one who broke into the clinic when Blake was picking up Bear.”
