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“The coroner's report is in.”
“Oh?”
“You’re not reading it.”
“Whatever.” I huff, folding my arms over my chest.
He pulls into the parking lot of the small police department. His brows are furrowed together, and the smile is now gone from his face. He’s back to thinking about who did this.
Guilt pulls at me. He said he’s only doing this because of me. Does that mean he doesn’t want to stay here? What happens once he figures out who did this, and that threat is gone?
Will he up and leave me all over again?
CHAPTER 9
FRANK
After I drop Melody off at the church, I head straight to the coroner’s office.
“You ever wonder why we’re stuck in the basement of buildings?” Doc Monroe says as I walk in. I pause and acclimate myself to the smell. The sterile cleaning supplies liberally used in the examination room between autopsies never fully overcome the stench of decay. Doc is immune to it. “It’s because people are afraid the bodies down here are someday going to rise up. Easier to keep them contained in these concrete boxes.” He waves a gloved hand around.
“I thought it was to avoid spoiling the evidence by sunlight.”
“That too. Your boy did not die of stab wounds. The blunt force trauma to the back of his head came about because he fell.” Doc pulls back part of the sheet and points to a needle puncture in the arm. “Someone doped him with animal tranqs. He lost consciousness, fell, and struck his head on something metal.”
“The operating table,” I guess.
“Likely.”
“The dosage of the tranq did him in. The stab wounds were made after.”
“Kind of sick.” It makes me think this was a vendetta like Melody suggested. It was personal. “What about the woman?”
“She died of the stab wounds.”
“Ah. She came in and surprised the killer, and the killer turned on her with the knife.”
“That’s probably right.”
The woman was a bystander. The vet was the target.
Doc Monroe pulls the sheet back into place. “Not really. Just heard that it started in the kitchen and almost got out of control. Don’t think anyone was there at the time. I’ll type up the report and send it your way.”
“Thanks for the hard work.”
Back in my office, I tape Post-it notes about the results up on my murder board. None of it makes sense to me. My best suspect is actually Blake Finley, but I don’t know what the motive is.
I call Vincent. “Want to take a trip with me to South Shore?”
“No, but I will anyway. We picking up Finley?”
“Yeah, but now that I think about it, you better stay with the girls, and I’ll go. I don’t think they should be left alone.”
“How about Emma and I go pick up Finley and you can stay here and work your case?” Vincent suggests.
“That doesn’t sound like a very romantic getaway, but I like your plan better. You have cuffs and everything you need?”
“I’ll swing by and drop Melody off. You can set me up then.”
The three of them show up shortly after he ends the call. Melody is carrying a Styrofoam box that smells like roast beef and gravy. My stomach growls.
“Before you eat, I want to talk to you.” Emma intercepts the food, whisking the to-go container out of my hands and dragging me into the corner.
“You’re coming between me and my food. Someone better have given birth or died.” I glower at my sister.
“Since Melody doesn’t have an older brother, I’m taking that role,” Emma announces.
“That means I don’t get to eat hot food?”
“No, it means that if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you.”
I give my five-foot-nothing sister a quick once-over. “You got to have some size on you to make that threat work.”
“Not really. If you don’t do right by Melody, I’ll tell Mom that you broke her Waterford crystal vase that she inherited from Grandma.”
I rear back. “Dirty pool, Emma. That was years ago and we were tussling when it fell, so that was on both of us.”
“Will she believe that, or will she say that you as the eldest bore the greater responsibility?”
Emma has me there, but I can’t let her know that. “It’s not any of your business what happens between me and Melody. Do you see me mucking up things between you and Vincent?”
“Yes. You told all kinds of lies when you first came home, including that he was dating someone when he wasn’t.”
A pang of guilt makes me frown. “I was looking out for you.”
“Which is what I’m doing for Melody. I’m watching you.” She points two fingers at her own eyes and then at mine.
I manage not to laugh and instead give my sister a solemn nod of my head before turning and walking back to Melody. She tilts her head in curiosity while Vincent grins like a damn clown. I’ll knock that off his face later.
