Kiss Me, Kill Me Read online

  “There’s a lab in Burlington. Small, nowhere near as high-tech as the state crime lab, but they could handle a tox screen. The police might want to run some blood and tissue samples through there, to speed up the process.”

  He frowned. “Then the police are going to have to be the ones to order it.”

  “And they might. I’m only suggesting we take extra samples. In case they do.”

  Dr. Butcher set the scalpel down and met Carrie’s eyes. “I know this is your town, and that you knew this kid, but I’m not willing to jeopardize my career because you have a stake in this. It’s just another case to me. I’m doing exactly what I’m ordered to do on this, nothing more.”

  He eyed her skeptically, then pushed the shock of straw-colored hair off his sweat-slick forehead. She knew his type. He was officious and occasionally a bully because he felt insignificant. His career was the only part of his life where he could exert control. He probably had no personal life, no love life and few friends.

  “We need to release this boy to his family as soon as we can, Dr. Butcher. They need to bury him—they need to get some closure.”

  He nodded. “I understand that. But you should be telling it to the police.” He reached up to turn the recorder on again. “Moving on to the internal exam, beginning with the standard Y incision.”

  He moved his scalpel to Kyle’s chest, and Carrie stared at the pale, pale skin and still, dead face of her son’s best friend, and thought she was going to vomit.

  Carson Butcher looked up at her, his blade poised above the sternum. Then he stopped what he was doing, straightened and switched the recorder off again. “I’m sorry, Dr. Overton. I know I gave the okay for you to observe, but I’m no longer comfortable with that.”

  “Just because I asked about taking extra samples?”

  “Just because you look like you might faint. And that would interrupt the flow of my work.”

  “Maybe if we could cover his face first…?” she said.

  He shook his head slowly. “I’ll see you on my way out, let you know what I’ve found. All right?”

  Lowering her head, knowing he was right, she said, “Okay.” And then she turned and left the room.

  She felt horrible, as if she’d failed Sam—and maybe Kyle, too—by not being there to observe the autopsy. And yet she felt relieved not to have to watch a child the same age as her son being opened up, his organs removed and weighed, the top of his skull removed.

  Yes, she was relieved.

  God knew she had plenty to keep her busy at the hospital. Patients to check in on, test results to review, new admissions to evaluate. She broke at lunchtime and went down to check on Dr. Butcher, but he was deep in conversation with Chief MacNamara and another man. Both the chief and the stranger wore street clothes—suits, ties. She suspected the other man was from the state police. As she stood outside the morgue, looking through the mesh-lined window in the door, Dr. Butcher looked up, spotted her and said something to the other men, who both looked in her direction.

  She nodded hello, but when the men all turned back to their discussion, rather than waving her inside, she knew better than to hang around. Her plans for later on dictated that she act with the utmost discretion now.

  She walked away and took the elevator back to the floor where she had her office. Her phone beeped as soon as she stepped into the corridor, and she frowned at the screen, then clicked the little notepad icon to read the text message. It was from Dr. Butcher.

  Nothing definitive. Waiting 4 tox results.

  That was all. She was grateful he’d at least gotten in touch and texted back a simple Thx, even while making a mental note to thank him in person when she got the chance. She would have asked him to e-mail her a copy of his report, but she knew he would refuse. The guy was too by-the-book. And coming from her, that was saying something.

  Flipping her phone closed again, she rounded the corner that brought her to her office door and found it open, and Sam sitting at her desk inside.

  He met her eyes. She thinned her lips, and lowered hers.

  “Is it done?”

  She lifted her gaze again and nodded twice. “It’s done.”

  “And?” he asked.

  “And there was nothing definitive, Sam. We’re going to have to wait for the lab results before we’ll know anything.”

  He held her eyes for a long moment, searching them, and she knew why. “I’m not lying to you, Sam. I wouldn’t. You know that.”

  “Not even for a police investigation?”

  “No. Not even. I’d tell you if I knew anything, but I don’t. I really don’t.”

  He closed his eyes, lowered his head. “How long?” he asked.

  “Until we know?” He nodded, and Carrie sighed. “Around two weeks,” she said, being brutally honest, even though she knew he would hate hearing it.

  Sam rose from the chair in a rush. “Two weeks!”

  “I know it’s a long time, but—”

  “Do you think his mom can wait two weeks? Could you, if it were me down there in the morgue?”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”

  He turned his back to her. “I’m sorry. That was crude. I know it’s not your fault.”

  “I’m doing all I can. I promise. If there’s a way to move things along any faster, I will. Okay?”

  “Is there?” He faced her again, his eyes narrowing as she averted her own. “Wait, there is, isn’t there? You wouldn’t have said that if there wasn’t.”

  “I have…an idea or two.”

  His frown grew. “You’re not…you’re not doing something that could mess up your job or anything like that, are you?”

  She tipped her head to one side. “You know me better than that. I’m a conformist, remember? You said so just the other day.”

  “What I said was that you’re not as much of one as you’d like to think you are.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” She looked at her watch. “My lunch break’s just about over, Sam.”

  “All right.”

  “You have anything planned?”

  He shook his head. “Kyle’s mom asked me to look for any photos of him. Said she was doing a collage of them for the services. I told her to let me and the guys do it for her.”

  Carrie almost choked up but managed to hold it together. “That’s incredibly thoughtful of you.”

  “It didn’t seem like something she ought to be doing. I don’t know. I’m running around today picking up photos from everyone who has one they want included, including a bunch from Mrs. Becker.”

  “Will you be home in time for dinner?”

  He nodded. “You?”

  “A little on the late side. But I should make it by seven-thirty, quarter of eight.”

  “I’ll see you then.” He started for the door, then paused and turned. “Sorry I lost it before.”

  “It’s understandable. All’s forgiven.”

  “See you tonight, Mom.”

  “Love you, Sam,” she called. And heard his obligatory but heartfelt, “Love you, too” as the office door closed behind him.

  She waited until nearly seven, when the morgue was less likely to see any action. For some reason, any business needing to be done down there tended to get done during the day. No one liked it there in the dark. It wasn’t something anyone admitted aloud, it was just the pattern. Everyone noticed, but no one commented.

  She made it seem as if she were leaving for the day, locked up her office, put on her jacket, said her goodbyes. And then she took the elevator an extra level down and went into the morgue. No one was around, and the place was as dark as a dungeon, but she made her way through the outer rooms without turning on a light, only pausing when she reached the interior room known as the meat locker.

  Then she flipped on the overhead lights, which seemed blinding at first, and went to the drawer where Kyle—no, not Kyle, Kyle’s body—lay. She gripped the handle, giving it a twist, and then pulling the heavy drawer ope
n. It was noisy, clattering and even squeaking all the way, and she cringed, as if someone were close enough to hear.

  But no one was.

  The echoes of the sounds died away, and she ordered herself to relax. It wasn’t easy. She wasn’t a rule breaker. But what she was doing wasn’t all that illegal, anyway. Kyle’s body would be released to his family first thing tomorrow morning—that was as soon as the funeral director could come and pick it up. It could have been released this afternoon, but hadn’t been. Gabe would probably say that was a sign. Or something.

  Wouldn’t he?

  Hell, she didn’t know. She only knew that if there was a way to get answers sooner, she had to take it. Maybe not answers that would hold up in court or convict a killer. But answers that would give peace to Kyle’s mother, to his father. Answers that might help keep the other teens of Shadow Falls safe.

  And if that was against the rules, then so be it.

  Carrie pulled up a clean instrument tray and gently removed the sheet from Kyle’s lifeless body, trying not to see the fresh stitches holding his chest cavity together, or the ones keeping the top of his skull attached.

  And then she got to work.

  8

  Carrie was bone tired when she dragged herself home at the end of that long day. Long? Hell, it had felt like the longest of her life. And she knew Sam and Sadie would be there waiting, probably still expecting answers she wasn’t yet able to give them. She hoped, ridiculously, that Gabe would be there, too, and was disappointed not to see his van sitting in her driveway.

  She caught hold of herself, reminded herself that whatever was happening between her and Gabe, it was still new, far too new for her to feel as much as she seemed to be feeling. It must be the powerful emotional drama happening all around her, making everything within her seem more…intense. More powerful.

  When she opened the front door and walked inside, she smelled a mingling of delicious aromas that warred with the queasiness of her utterly empty stomach. Someone had been cooking up a storm. Frowning, she looked around. “Sam?”

  “In here, Mom.”

  His voice came from the kitchen, so she kept on heading the way her nose had already been sending her. Rose was just pulling a large roasting pan from the oven, an oversize mitt on each hand.

  “Welcome home, dear,” the older woman said with a beaming bright smile. “We’ve made dinner.”

  Carrie raised her brows. “You didn’t have to do—”

  “Of course I did,” Rose said. “You poor thing, what you’ve been through today. What all of you have been through,” she corrected, with a sympathy-laden look at Sam, who stood nearby taking plates from the cupboard. “Naturally the last thing you’re up to is cooking, and I doubt you’ve eaten a morsel all day.”

  “Well, you’ve got me on that one,” Carrie admitted.

  “I’m so terribly sorry about your young friend.”

  “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

  “When there’s nothing else to do, offer food. That’s what I always say.” Rose shrugged, setting the pot roast onto the granite counter. “Now, there are potatoes, baby peas and carrots, and an apple pie to go with it. Enjoy.”

  “Thank you so much. Gosh, it looks and smells wonderful.”

  “You’re welcome. And now I’ll leave you to it.” Rose tugged off the oven mitts, set them beside the pot roast and hurried out of the kitchen.

  Carrie sent Sam a puzzled frown and hurried after her. Sam followed.

  “Rose, wait. You can’t just leave. After all that hard work, you should stay and enjoy dinner with us.”

  “I wouldn’t hear of it.”

  Sam said, “I already tried, Mom. She thinks she’d be intruding.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Carrie said. “We’d love to have you.”

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “And like I already told you, Gabe is coming, too. And so is Sadie.”

  “Gabe’s coming?” Carrie asked, looking at her son, completely distracted from the topic at hand.

  “What, you thought he wouldn’t? He’d have to be an idiot.”

  Carrie felt her lips pull into a self-satisfied smile. “Was that a compliment?”

  He rolled his eyes. “We won’t notice one more at the table,” he told Rose. “Besides, how are we gonna make a big gooey fuss over how good it is if you aren’t even here to hear us?”

  “Oh, you’re such a polite young man. And it’s sweet of you to ask, but no. I really do have my own plans for the evening. Enjoy the meal. Good night.”

  “Good night. And thanks again, Rose,” Carrie told her.”

  “You’re welcome.” Rose hurried out the door, and Carrie watched her quickstep her way across the driveway.

  “Isn’t she just the oddest woman?” Carrie asked.

  “I think she’s campaigning for us to adopt her.”

  Laughing softly, Carrie started to lower the curtain and turn away, but then she saw that crazy van of Gabe’s come bouncing into the driveway.

  “Wow,” Sam said.

  Carrie dragged her eyes from the van to her son. “What?”

  “You really like him.” She opened her mouth, but her son held up a forefinger. “No, don’t even start. You do, I can tell. If you could see the look on your face right now, you wouldn’t even try to deny it. You like him.”

  “I like him,” she confessed. “But he’s so…different from what I thought I wanted in a man.”

  “Yeah. You wanted a geek. We covered that. But, Mom, you got a genius instead. That’s a definite upgrade.”

  “Is it?”

  “It is.”

  “Well, just don’t read too much into it. He’s a drifter, Sam. He probably won’t hang around here very long.”

  “I think he will.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “’Cause I got to see his face when you arrived at his place last night. Even with everything going on, it was pretty obvious.” He went to the door and opened it before Gabe even got a chance to knock. “Hey, Gabe. Come on and help me set the table. Sadie will be here any minute.”

  Gabe walked in, and Carrie hoped her feelings weren’t as obvious to him as they had been to Sam. She tried to school her face into a neutral expression, but it wasn’t easy. She was as tense as she could be, the memory of the day still hanging like a black cloud in her mind. And she’d done something that was unethical, if not illegal, to boot, by taking those samples. She would compound the sin by taking them to the private lab herself, and quietly asking her friend, Marcus Kenyon, to run them through the mass spectrometer without a word to anyone anywhere.

  She’d never done anything so outrageous before.

  Okay, she had. She’d forged a birth certificate and raised Sam as her own without a word to anyone. And that far outweighed this on the bad-ass scale, she supposed.

  All of that tension curled into a tight little knot in her belly as she said hello to Gabe. He looked into her eyes, then moved forward with his arms open and folded her into them.

  She was instantly overcome by a feeling of relief. Her taut nerves seemed to relax, her muscles unclenched, and she felt warm right to her core. She leaned against him and closed her eyes, and, just for one moment, let the hurt and angst of the day flow out of her. It was as if he were siphoning it off, taking it into himself instead.

  “God, I needed that,” she whispered very softly in his ear.

  She felt him nod against her cheek, and then he eased his grip on her and stepped back without quite losing touch. “It smells delicious in here.”

  “You can thank Rose for that,” she said, stepping out of his embrace, to turn and walk beside him into the kitchen.

  “Your boarder?” As Carrie nodded he went on. “Good, I finally get to meet her.”

  Carrie shook her head. “She made us dinner but declined to stay and enjoy it with us.”

  He frowned. “That’s too bad.”

  “Well, she said she had other plans, but I have to wonder. She seems to
be a rather odd woman.”

  “Here comes Sadie,” Sam said, looking out the still-open front door.

  Carrie looked, too, and saw Sadie wheeling up on her bicycle. She parked it in front of the door and then climbed off, a bulging green backpack over her shoulder.

  “Hey, guys.”

  “What, are you moving in?” Carrie asked her.

  She shook her head. “Cheer practice later. Dress rehearsal for the dance routine before the competition. So I needed to bring the works.”

  “Pom-poms and all?” Sam asked, patting his chest as if the thought were too much for his heart to handle.

  She rolled her eyes at him and looked away. But Carrie knew she was relieved to see Sam even trying to make a joke, given the circumstances. She felt the same way.

  “Hey, Carrie.” Sadie came closer and gave Carrie a gentle hug. “How are you holding up?”

  “Better, now that I’m surrounded by my favorite people,” Carrie replied, hugging the girl back.

  Sadie tipped her head sideways and smiled, clearly touched by Carrie’s words. Then she sniffed and looked around in search of the source. “Man, something smells good.”

  “That would be our dinner,” Sam said. “Which reminds me, Gabe, you want to give me a hand?”

  Gabe nodded, and he and Sam headed into the kitchen. Within a few minutes the two males had finished setting the table, and then the four of them sat down to try their best to do justice to Rose’s generous offering. It wasn’t easy, however. No one had an appetite, given the main topic of nonconversation.

  Finally Sam broke through the uncomfortable silence. “Did you find out anything more today?”

  Carrie lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, hon. There really isn’t anything more to tell you than what I said when I saw you earlier. There was no obvious cause of death. The answer won’t come until we get all the lab work back.”

  Sam thinned his lips. “So what are they testing for?”

  “It’s a wide range, hon. I’m not even sure of the full list.” She shook her head, still in a state of slight disbelief that they were discussing the autopsy of the kid who’d once posed her garden gnomes in pornographic positions on April Fools’ Day. It was surreal. “The important thing is that it’s done. They’re going to release him to his family first thing in the morning. And I got a call on the way home. The funeral is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. I know it seems awfully soon, but a lot of the relatives have been in town since he first went missing. That family needs closure.”