Page 48 of The Ashes of Summer

Tamara doesn't answer straight away. She watches me before her eyes flick toward the door, lingering on the narrow window as though she's making sure nobody's standing outside. Only when she seems satisfied does she look back at me.

“There was talk around the hospital after Annalise Raynor's post-mortem.”

The name lands like a stone.

Annalise Raynor.

Jackson Moore's victim. The woman whose murder put him behind bars.

“What kind of talk?”

“The pathologist was Dr. Khan.” She lowers her voice instinctively. “Apparently something about the case never sat right with him.”

My fingers tighten around the coffee cup until the cardboard buckles.

“Something about what?”

She gives a small shake of her head. “Nobody knows. Or if they do, they kept it to themselves. All anyone ever said was that after the post-mortem he started asking questions he wasn't supposed to be asking.”

“What questions?”

“He wanted access to evidence handling records. Witness statements. Interview transcripts. Chain-of-custody logs.” She hesitates. “Basically everything outside the scope of the post-mortem.”

I stare at her.

“A pathologist doesn't need witness statements.”

“No,” she says quietly. “He doesn't.”

The monitor continues its relentless rhythm beside us.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I look at the unconscious bastard lying in the bed before my eyes drift back to Tamara, my brain trying to force the pieces together into something that resembles sense.

Jackson Moore murdered Annalise Raynor. Michael Miller built the case that put him away.

I remember every fucking press conference. Every interview. Every time Miller stood in front of a camera promising Rosefield they'd caught the man responsible. I remember the relief that spread through the town after the conviction, people finally believing they could sleep again because the monster had been locked away.

Hell...

I believed it too.

"Khan could've been wrong."

"He could have."

"You don't believe that."

She doesn't answer. She doesn't have to, her face gives everything away. Something settles cold in my gut.

"Tell me what happened."

Tamara wraps both hands around her coffee.

"He was told to stop."

"By who?"