After a short drive, I find myself parked near the rear entrance of the hospital. Dad is standing by the loading doors. The moment I see him, I want to jump out of the car and run into his arms, but I refrain as I notice Murrey, who’s in his white lab coat, at his side. I suppose there’s no need to hide that I’m back in town now.
“Thanks for the ride.” My voice is devoid of emotion, but only because I’m forcing it to be. I grip the short handle of my bag and exit the car. My head clears after an inhale of fresh air, but coffee would be a blessing right now.
“Hey, kiddo.” Dad’s greeting is hesitant. He knows how badly I was trying to avoid this situation, and he also knows he’s the reason it happened.
“Hey, Pop.” I try to smile, but it’s so fucking brittle.
Dad’s brow drops, and he scans the area behind me with a sneer. “Fuck off, the lot of you. If, in the future, I ever see my daughter walking away from you looking like she does right now, I will skin you and make sure you never see her again.”
My heart swells, and I don’t stop myself from face-planting into his chest. “I’m fine, Dad. It’s not just them.” My words are meant for him, but I’m sure the others hear me. I know I have some blame here. I haven’t handled things well over the past few years, and it shows. I guess all that stuff about avoidance not being healthy is true.
I hear three car doors close, and Dad wraps his arm around my upper back before guiding me into the hospital. Without looking behind me, I know they haven’t left. The car never started, but every step I take means I’m closer to getting away from them, so why does my heart hurt so badly? And why am I sad they gave up so easily, again?
The morgue is cold, but the smell is tolerable. The mostly headless body is on a silver slab with edges high enough to keep the fluids from leaking out onto the floor, but this guy lost most of his bodily fluids in the library.
“Got an ID on him yet?” I get right to business.
“Not yet. I uploaded his prints in the system, but they haven’t come back with a hit. DNA will take a few days,” Murrey answers for Dad.
“Hi, Doc,” I finally greet.
“Hey, Frankie, it’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to see you too.” I don’t correct his assumption and tell him I’m only sticking around long enough to help Dad before I get the hell out of town.
“Murrey thinks this might not have been magic,” Dad informs me, drawing my attention.
I look at the body again. Someone would have to possess superhuman strength to have caused this kind of damage, so maybe instead of using a spell directly on the victim, the murderer used a charm on himself, and that’s why I didn’t detect it. The magic wasn’t cast at the library. I cling to the idea, hoping that’s why my magic failed me.
“I suppose it’s a possibility. That would mean premeditation. Any missing person reports that match his description?”
“We don’t have a lot to go on, other than approximate height and weight. He has some tattoos I took pictures of, and there’s some scarring on his back, but nothing definitive enough for an ID as far as I can tell,” Dad replies.
“What about time of death? Were there any witnesses?” I ask. I should have checked my email to see if Dad sent anything over this morning, but it wasn’t really top priority.
“Belinda found him after she came back from lunch yesterday afternoon. She doesn’t remember seeing him come in, and she thought the place was empty when she locked up.”
“Belinda?” I question the familiar way he’s addressing her.
Dad darts his eyes over at Murrey, then corrects, “Ms. Miller.”
Murrey pretends to be busy looking at some paperwork. That’s all the confirmation I need that he already knows about Dad and this woman’s personal relationship.
“Have you set up the formal interview yet?” I hope he wasn’t the one who took her statement yesterday. That could be an issue.
“No, she already told me everything she knew. She’s pretty upset. I’d like to leave her out of this if it’s possible. I sent you the notes,” he offers.
“Pop, you can’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgment here. If she found the body, she needs to be interviewed by somebody other than you.”
Murrey snaps a metal clipboard case closed and gives my dad theI tried to tell youlook.
“Fine, but I want to be there,” Dad retorts.
“Are you going to be able to be unbiased?” I challenge.
“I know how to do my job, kid.” He sounds disgruntled, but not angry.
I take him at his word. “I’m going to give the body another go with the new information and see if I sense anything. Why don’t you give her a call and ask her to meet us at the station? You can tell me about her on the way over.” It’s weird giving my dad instructions, but he just nods and walks out of the room with his phone already in his hand.
