Taking another cautious sip, she watched Oliver from over the cup. She knew he was practically vibrating on the inside. He had given up practicing medicine as a doctor almost as soon as he started, yet old habits died hard, especially when it came to Gwen. As she drank, he listened for the echoing wheeze of her breath, but after refilling the cup a second time, the crackle had mostly disappeared. Asthma could kill as swiftly as tigers. The thought of that made his chest tighten as he sat stock-still on his stool.
Sensing his mounting anxiety, Gwen released a sigh and lightly patted his arm. “I’m fine. Seriously, Ol. I’m fine now. The drink helped.”
“Good. So, what was so important that you had to risk your life to visit or were you running from someone?”
“Ugh, I think it was John Marsh’s godawful cologne that set me off. I walked into a cloud of it, and it took my breath away. I wasn’t even close to him!”
“And you came running to warn me to stay away to avoid a cologne headache? Or do you have more corpse-related questions for your research.”
“You wish. Unless you’ve had vampires in here, you are of no help to me.”
“There’s no such thing as vampires.”
“So says you.” A sly smile graced her lips when she added, “Actually, I came to get you because a certain Inspector Galvan is back in town, and he would like to speak to you.”
Oliver’s cheeks flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. Quickly averting his gaze, he emptied the remaining coffee into the sink. “Any idea what he wants? I was about to write out my report about—”
“Oliver!” Shaking her head, she gave him that sad, barely piteous look. It was mostly exasperated amusement, but he still felt that minor sting of pity. That he must have no idea he was self-sabotaging when he full-well knew he was and couldn’t help himself. “The dead can wait. Go talk to Galvan.”
He opened his mouth to speak, to refute the urgency of reporting a tiger attack, only to deflate. “Will you come with me?”
A grin shot across her lips as she moved to catch his arm and haul him up the stairs. “Of course, now let’s go before you lose your nerve.”
He sniffed and froze. “No, wait.”
“Oliver.”
“Two minutes outside first, that’s all. Don’t give me that look. It’s important. I don’t want to smell like a corpse.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Two minutes.”
“Two minutes.”
With a fleeting glance over his shoulder at the morgue, Oliver slipped out the door to the loading bay and pressed his back against the cold brick. A flurry of snow swirled across the pavement and over the black leather of Oliver’s boots, but it did little to cool his nerves. No one was around, so he shook out his hands and paced in time with his breath. How could he want something so badly, yet dread the very thought of it? Panic coursed through his veins as he sank to the ground in a tight ball. He would just be very still. As long as he was still, he couldn’t say anything foolish or weird. Counting to forty, he braced himself and went back inside before Gwen could fetch him.
Chapter Two
