Detachment from the task was key, or I would never survive. I would rather think of the victim as nameless while I perform the routine task I’d been doing for years. It made everything easier. I didn’t want to know him or think about who he had been in life. It would compromise my ability to work efficiently, and emotions had no place in an autopsy theater.
As it stood, death had stripped the victim of authority. If he’d once been the fit and formidable man Kobe suggested, he was no longer. That had been stolen from him. The waxy pallor and slackness of skin that affected all those who had died also stole their humanity and turned them into inanimate objects.
People might balk at hearing me say something so crass and heartless, but it was true. Death drained personalities and robbed people of the singular essence that made them who they were in life. I didn’t use the termsoul. As a nonbeliever, a soul was a thing that belonged in fairy tales or fiction. To me, souls didn’t exist.
At ten after five in the evening, the suite door opened a crack, and the man of the hour poked his head in. With a surgical cap hiding Kobe’s windblown shag of hair and a face mask covering his mouth—a mouth that had turned a shy smile in my direction more than once that afternoon—all I could see were his wide honey-brown eyes, a perfect balance of innocent, uncertain, and shrewd. It was a wonder I’d thought he was younger than his years. He seemed to vacillate between a stringent, perceptive cop and a mildly insecure youth. Kobe Haven was an enigma.
“Am I late? May I come in?”
“Please. You’re not late. I’ve been working through the external exam.”
Kobe inched into the room, his yellow paper gown catching on the door. It crinkled as he spun to disengage it. The poorly tied cords at the back dangled over a sculpted rear that I should not have noticed.
I quickly looked away before he could free himself or catch me staring.
“Detective Haven, this is Ms. Kuznetsov. She will be assisting.”
“Hi, Lina.” Kobe offered a shy wave, his eyes smiling. “We’ve met a few times. I’ll be sure to stay out of the way.”
I glanced between the detective and my assistant, catching hints of an acquaintance that was more defined than that of simple colleagues. Color rose in crescents on Akilina’s cheeks as she ducked her head, focusing intently on the clipboard.
Perhaps I’d misread Kobe. If he flirted with everyone, then I wasn’t special. I didn’t stand out. Good. I was unequipped to handle the attention of an infatuated, baby-faced cop.
Even if he was unfairly attractive and utterly oblivious to how endearing his awkwardness could be.
Before beginning the internal exam, Akilina excused herself to collect the X-rays from the lab. In her absence, the temperature in the room seemed to elevate. The perpetual chill faded until a sheen of sweat coated the inside of my gloves and dampened my upper lip. The trapped air behind my mask was suffocating. The walls grew uncomfortably close, and I was far too aware of the unoccupied space separating Kobe and me.
“You know Ms. Kuznetsov.” I didn’t form it like a question, but it was, nonetheless, and I eyed the young cop to gauge his reaction.
Kobe shrugged. “Yeah, we were in university together. I have a degree in criminology, and some of our classes were the same.”
“Ah.”
Criminology. So Kobe wasn’t a dime-a-dozen cop risen to detective. Interesting.
“We were friends. Hung out a bit.”
“Mm. I see.” I skimmed the form my assistant had been filling out, unwilling to meet Kobe’s gaze. I didn’t want to know what they’d gotten up to in university. If he spoke of keg parties and hookups, it would leave a bad taste in my mouth, and for whatever reason, I didn’t want to taint my impression of the man.
“So, um, where’d you transfer from?” Kobe asked when an uncomfortable swell of silence hummed and vibrated between us.
I briefly met his inquisitive gaze but looked away again when I couldn’t hold it, feigning interest in the dead man on my table. “Gatineau.”
A surprised chuckle filled the room. “Really? Gatineau? That’s the other side of the Ottawa River.”
“It is. You’re a geography whiz.”
“I thought you’d come from Toronto or somewhere out west. Freaking Gatineau.” Another laugh.
“Yep. A short jaunt over the bridge. Nothing more.”
“But why? I mean, are you still living in Quebec?”
“No. We relocated.”
“Oh.” Kobe went instantly quiet, his lightheartedness fading.
When I stole a glance over the clipboard, I caught a flash of disappointment in his honey-warm eyes as he scanned the room, suddenly appearing awkward. Part of me wanted to elaborate on thewe, but I didn’t know how without getting into a whole family history I wasn’t willing to share. Besides, if what I’d seen in Kobe was interest, I didn’t think it was wise to lead him on when my focus was elsewhere.
