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“So, I was thinking of heading down to Tim’s for dinner tonight.” Aubree shoves my visitor couch across the office without caring for my wants. Her breath comes faster, and her voice comes out on a squeak when she slams her shin against the couch frame.
She works fast, her pulse jumping against her throat as she rearranges, while I write my notes from Sarah’s autopsy.
“They have decent food there, the pool tables can be fun, since hot guys hang out there most nights, plus,” she stops and rests her hands on her hips as she looks off into the dark city skyline outside, “Tim is just so dreamy. And although I got up in my feels earlier today when you said you and he were once engaged, I realized you were telling fibs and that’s your weird way of trying to be funny.”
I chew on the end of my pencil while typing. “I wasn’t joking. Tim and I had a thing.”
“And after I got in my feels about it all,” Aubree bends once more and finishes the trek of the couch, “I decided even if you really were engaged at one point and not lying, then I realized if I was to play second fiddle to any woman on the planet, I like you enough to be okay with it being you.”
Scowling, I stop writing and meet her eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Flopping back onto the couch, she giggles and presses her hand to her eyes. “You’re hot, Doctor Mayet. You’re crazy smart. You’re kind, but to keep me on track and learning, you call me out and don’t feel bad about it.”
“There’s no room for opinion in science.”
“See!” She pushes up tall and points across at me. “You’re the complete package, Minka. And if Tim liked you, then chances are, he might like me too. Maybe.”
“It’s too soon for you to call me Minka. And I was kidding, by the way.” I study her star-struck eyes and force myself not to smile at her youthful naivete. It’s cute, the way she pants after the hot bartender, but it’s a naivete I long ago shed. “Tim and I met on Saturday. We never had a thing. I ate a meal he cooked, then I made coffee in his bar. He’s cranky if you wake him before noon, but beneath that cranky is a guy I consider my friend.” I go back to finishing my report. “I live in the apartment building next door to the bar, so I’ve run into him a few times already.”
“So convenient,” she exhales. “You can get drunk and stumble home in a matter of minutes.”
“Sounds like you have grandeurs of alcoholism.”
She snorts. “No, but to stumble home with the sexy Tim is what makes up all of my naughty dreams. He’s just so…” She sighs. “Sexy.”
Shaking my head, I sign off on my report and hit print. “He seems a little old for you, don’t you think?”
Aubree scowls in my direction. “We’re only a few years apart.”
“Right, but he seems a hell of a lot more, ya know, life experienced than you. He runs a dark bar and deals with idiots all night. You wear pink in your hair and patches on your knees.”
“My style choices shouldn’t play into this.” Pushing up to stand with a groan that speaks of a long day bent over a dead body, she comes all the way to my desk and snags a notepad and a pen. “I’m writing a letter to the lovely Mr. Green. He’s our night shift janitor,” she adds when my brows shoot high in question. “I’m asking him to get rid of that second couch—you don’t need it. What are your thoughts on the ugly lights?”
“Get rid of them. Can we also get rid of my visitor’s chairs?”
She stops writing and places her hand on the chair in front of my desk. “These? What’s wrong with them?”
“They invite people to sit.” I flash a grin that expresses anything but friendliness. “That’s not an invitation I can make with a straight face.”
Aubree’s nose wrinkles with disapproval. “I’m not gonna let you drive me away. Your love is like a cactus, Doctor Mayet. Prickly and uncomfortable. But I’m like a Labrador puppy.”
“Loyal?”
She snickers. “Too stupid to stay away. Fair warning; if you ditch the chairs, I’m gonna sit my ass on your desk. And when I do, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
“Keeponeof the chairs.” I roll my eyes. “Get rid of the other.”
Switching off my computer screen, I glance through my large windows and into my lab that was bustling with doctors a matter of hours ago. The moment it hit five o’clock, Kernicke and Kirk bolted. Flynn finished what she was working on and was out by a quarter to six, and Torres and Catlin were only a few steps behind her.
Emeri and I are the only ones of our shift who remain, and though bodies still need to be worked on, the night shift staff are quieter about it. Ghoulish themselves, seeing as they never see the sunlight.
“I’m going home,” I tell Aubree. “Straight to bed. What happened with the Dowel case?”
She waits while I push up from my chair, then bolts to the rack by the door and offers my outside coat. “Torres identified the knife, as well as the trajectory of the attack. Perpetrator was shorter than the victim. Standing roughly between five seven and five nine. Perp was strong, or at the very least, determined. The slice was smooth; no hesitation. The attack was done in such a way that Torres and the detectives believe the assailant knew to avoid spilling too much blood.”
“Blood makes a mess. Mess leaves a trail.”
“Exactly. Blade was smooth. No serration. Five inches long, three quarters of an inch wide. Pretty standard kitchen knife that’ll prove impossible to track down to any one person.”
