May looked back at Ivy once more before turning away. The breeze shifted, lifting a strand of Ivy’s hair and then letting it fall again. The creek kept moving, and the eagle cried somewhere high above.
Professional, May reminded herself as she followed Jeb back up the embankment. But her hands were shaking. Nausea rose in her, and she took a step back, pressing a gloved hand against her stomach.
“You going to throw up, Doc?” Jeb asked.
“No, I’m okay.” May swallowed rapidly. Her mouth felt dry.
“Come on, let’s go up to the road. You don’t need to stare at your friend any longer,” Jeb said, not unkindly, taking her elbow.
The word friend nearly undid her. May walked as carefully up the embankment as she had down, placing each foot where Jeb had stepped before.
The climb felt steeper going up. Her thighs burned. The wind caught her jacket and tugged at it, pushing cool air against her overheated skin. By the time they reached the top, her breathing had steadied, though her hands still trembled inside the latex gloves.
They stepped onto the shoulder, and Jeb guided her toward her truck.
“Who’s in the truck?” he asked.
“That’s Lance. He works for me part-time.”
Jeb narrowed his gaze. “Did he know the victim?”
“Everybody knew Ivy,” May said. “But he saw her at the bar last night.”
“Really? I’ll need to take his statement as well.”
May’s entire body hurt in a dull ache. How could Ivy be dead? “Lance left for the night to go fishing with his uncle and Senator Mercer. He just got back around six this morning.”
“Okay.” Jeb wiped dirt off his cheek. “I need to see if he noticed anything at the bar.”
“I don’t see that as a problem.” She stopped in the middle of the road and drew in several deep breaths. Pain ricocheted through her heart. Who would kill Ivy like that?
It just didn’t make any sense.
Ivy had been steady. Kind. Good at her job. May remembered Ivy laughing in the break room over burned coffee, and often rolling her eyes at paperwork or leaning over a patient with steady hands and a soft voice. None of that lined up with the body by the creek. Anger flushed through May, competing with grief.
Plus, she had thought, deep down, that Kyle had killed Laura, even though he hadn’t known her. But he and his crew had been fishing with Lance all night. They couldn’t have killed Ivy. They’d left when the young woman was still at the bar.
May glanced toward the truck where Lance sat watching them with wide eyes through the windshield. “This is terrible,” she said.
The words felt useless. The sky stretched overhead, painfully blue. Life continued, unaware or unwilling to pause. Behind her, the creek kept moving.
Ivy lay below.
“It really is.” Jeb patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Can you tell me the last time you saw the victim?”
“Yes. It was last night at Sam’s Tavern. I had dinner with Ace Osprey, and then Nate Busby showed up, and his wife was in labor.”
Jeb pulled a small notebook from his back pocket and started scratching notes out with an old Bic pen. “What time was this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe about nine?” She closed her eyes briefly, forcing herself to rewind the night. “We had a late dinner. Yeah, it was about nine.”
“Okay. So did you drive to the hospital?”
Had that just been last night? May rubbed her temple. “No. Ace and I walked.”
“Then what?”
“Annie was in labor for five hours and had a baby girl.”
