“I did.I designed the logo.”
“Who makes the soap?”
“Mary.”
“It smells good.”
She placed a hand over her heart, feigning shock at his compliment.Funny, he felt the same way about her.He would be slack-jawed with amazement if she said something nice to him.
“I can pitch in for groceries,” he offered.
“Don’t worry about it.”
With a slight nod, he made his exit.It was better to go out on a high note, or at least, a non-bitter one.Mary had advised him toconnectwith his mother.The task was easier said than done.Wade had always felt that the responsibility for repairing their relationship fell on her, as the parent, and the person who had damaged it.But holding his breath for that day hadn’t made it come any sooner.He would have to take the first steps toward reconciliation, and he would have to tread lightly.The realization didn’t fill him with as much dread as he’d anticipated.Part of what it meant to be an adult was doing things that were difficult, but necessary.
As he drove down the country road, he let his mind drift to more pleasurable avenues, namely his encounter with Mary last night.His offer for a massage had been innocent.Her face had looked so pinched, her brow furrowed with hurt.He’d felt a surge of triumph when her breathing had eased and her shoulders relaxed.Then he’d noticed the suppleness of her skin, so warm and silky beneath his fingertips, and the sweet press of her nipples against her thin shirt.He’d felt a surge of something else.
He groaned, shifting in the front seat of the cab.She had freckles on her shoulders, exquisitely shaped breasts, and a mouth like a wet dream.
“Don’t think about it,” he said out loud.
His cell phone chimed with a notification that helped distract him.It was a text from Dr.Forester, the physician who’d been recommended to him by the deputy coroner.He wanted to meet Wade at the morgue.
On my way, Wade replied, and his pulse kicked up a notch.
*
The morgue wasabout ten miles from Lost Lake, in the basement at Hill County Hospital.Hill County, like many rural places, had no medical examiner to perform autopsies, nor any special facilities for the task, so they were done by local physicians.Wade stopped at the station for his utility belt and service vehicle before he departed.He didn’t want to be accused of going rogue on his first week, but he also expected to be given a certain amount of autonomy.If Sheriff Nava had more important duties for him, he could say so.Until then, Wade was prioritizing this case.
Dr.Forester met Wade by a side entrance where ambulances unloaded patients.He was a distinguished-looking gentleman in his sixties, with silver hair and a trim goatee.After a brief handshake, they walked down a concrete hallway and into a small laboratory.The remains that had been disinterred yesterday were now on a stainless-steel exam table, illuminated by a surgical lamp.Wade studied the gleaming skull and puzzle-piece bones.While still discolored by age, they’d been cleaned of dirt and debris.
Forester donned a pair of blue latex gloves and directed the light at the skull’s bulging forehead.A hairline crack traveled about two inches away from a thumb-sized depression.Wade leaned closer, his heart pounding with excitement.
“This depression is evidence of a head injury,” Forester said.“Peri-mortem, blunt force trauma.”
“Peri-mortem,” Wade repeated.“Around the time of death.”
“Yes, and most likely the cause of death.”
“Most likely?What else could it be?”
Forester smiled at the question.“There is no lung tissue to study to rule out drowning.It’s possible the victim sustained this injury in a fall.”
“Okay,” Wade said, “but he didn’t wash up on the bank and bury himself.”
“I presume someone else buried him,” Forester said.“I can’t determine if someone elsehithim.The injury is consistent with impact from a rounded object, such as a rock.A strike from a fall can be indistinguishable from one by hand.”
Wade crossed his arms over his chest.“What else can you tell me?”
“There was a particle of resin at the fracture point.”
“Resin?”
“Tree sap turns into resin as it ages.”
“Could he have been struck by a tree branch?”
“I don’t think so,” Forester said.“A rock is my best guess.”
