“Ali, get the fuck up,” Brody barks at me. “We’re going backinside.”
“You’re not going anywhere, fucker,” Gabriel whispers before pouncing.
He lands on top of Brody, pining him to the ground with a thud. I struggle to sit up while my head throbs. My body protests my movement. He hits my husband again, and again, and again.
“What’s going on down there?” a voice calls from above. The light of a flashlight moving down the stairs to the dock breaks through the darkness.
“Gabriel…” My hand flies out to grab his arm. He immediately stills under my touch, his entire body going rigid. “You have to go. Someone’s coming.”
His head snaps up, noticing the approaching visitor.
He stands slowly, spinning to face me after taking a calming breath. When he faces me again, he’s back to normal, the calm and cool mask has fallen back into place.
“I won’t leave you here with him.” He nods back to where Brody is starting to sit up, blood is seeping from his lip and there’s a cut above his eye.
“I’ll be okay, he won’t hit me in front of his family and their guests,” I say and realize as the words are spoken out loud how awful that sounds.
Maybe I’ve made excuses for far too long.
“And when you get home?” Gabriel asks as he helps me to my feet, steadying me as I sway with his strong hands.
I look up at him, into his blue eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, I don’t feel alone.
“He won’t come home. He’ll stay here to lick his wounds. Trust me,” I tell him as he wraps his arms around me, cradling me in warmth and safety. “You should go. I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.”
His eyes scan my face. He looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can, he stops himself.
“Brody!” I recognize my father-in-law’s voice as he descends onto the dock. “What the hell is going on here?”
I immediately miss the warmth and safety of Gabriel’s arms as he turns and leaves, the sound of his boat cutting across the water tells me he’s gone but I don’t turn around to look.
NINE
Detective Kaitlin Pierce
Four Days Since Allison Clarke’s Murder
The Skagit County coroner’s office is located in a nondescript building on the north end of town. It is a blue residential-looking building with faded siding and a roof in desperate need of replacement. It’s located only a few blocks south of the expansive Skagit River. Upon entering through the front doors, I’m greeted by a series of bright fluorescent lights illuminating a small and worn down sitting area. The wet soles of my sneakers squeak against the yellowed linoleum floors. A desk sits across from the front door, where a receptionist typesaway behind an ancient computer. Back beyond the front desk is a hallway leading to a series of rooms. The front few rooms I know to be small meeting rooms, used for conversations with families and officials. In the back of the building there are several examination rooms. Each examination room contains a metal autopsy table and the coroner’s various tools and supplies. It’s not the most high tech operation, but it serves its purpose.
Skagit lacks some of the financial resources of the surrounding areas, such as King County, and therefore, the government buildings are pretty run down, but luckily, their coroner is one of the most thorough I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with.
The county coroner, Dr. Amanda Lee, looks up briefly, nodding her head in greeting as I enter the examination room.
“This one’s rough, Pierce,” she tells me as her eyes flit back down to the corpse in the table beneath her.
Dr. Lee’s slight stature always made her appear almost comical stretched across the tall exam tables. At first, I’d doubted her ability to do this job well, but she’s proven me wrong again and again. She’s the most intelligent and detailed person I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. As always, her slicked back black hair is neatly swept into a low bun at the nape of her neck and covered by a blue cap. Her dark eyes squint as she assesses something inside the corpse.
“What do you got for me, Amanda?” I ask as I pull out my phone and open my notes app.
I pride myself on being good at my job—really fucking good. As a woman in a male dominated field, I’ve had to work hard, if not harder, than my male counterparts to make my way in this world. I’ve found comradery in Amanda Lee. Dr. Lee is fucking smart. Like really fucking smart. But as a woman, a person of color, and part of the LGBTQ+ community, Amanda definitely has faced her fair share of bullshit. She’s too good for this smallrundown department. Her white male counterparts in the bigger cities surrounding ours are nowhere near as good at their jobs as Dr. Lee.
“I’m not sure we’ve ever worked a case like this one, Kat,” she begins timidly as her dark eyes flit across the body on the metal slab. “She’s practically unrecognizable.”
I swallow down the bubbling worry building in my stomach. How did this sweet young teacher end up here? Like this?
“Cause of death?” I ask her.
“COD was exsanguination.”
