Chapter 3
3
Cora placed her hands on her hips, stretched her back, and twisted her neck until a satisfying pop eased the tension in her shoulders. As the tightness ebbed away, a soft sigh escaped her lips. Clicking off her mobile dictation device, she shrugged out of her PPE jacket, revealing the scrubs beneath, and tossed the used material into the designated receptacle.
She reserved the full coveralls for when she was out in the field, where she needed to maintain the integrity of the investigative site. In her lab, she wanted to protect her clothing and ensure nothing contaminated the body as she performed the autopsy.
After crossing to her desk, she woke her laptop with a tap and reviewed her dictated notes to ensure they had been properly entered into the case report. Satisfied, she turned back to the lifeless form of Fred Rudolph, ready to have her technicians wrap him with dignity and return him to the mortuary drawer.
As far as Shirley Adams, the older woman killed in the sedan, nothing was suspicious about her death, so an autopsy wasn’t required. But because of the witness statements of his erratic driving and the drugs found at the scene, Cora had performed an autopsy on Mr. Rudolph.
She had pulled his medical records from the local hospital, not surprised to discover the medications found in his system for blood pressure, hypothyroid, and enlarged prostate. NSAIDs for his arthritis. What was surprising was that none of the pills, other than blood pressure medication, were located in the truck. The bagged pills didn’t contain any prescribed for him, and she didn’t find any in his system. So he wasn’t ingesting any drugs that didn’t belong to him but was certainly transporting other prescription drugs somewhere.
While the question hung in her mind, she knew the detectives would have to determine where he got them, why he had them, and where he was taking them.
That last thought brought one drug task force detective—Jeremy Pickett—to the forefront of her mind. The first time she’d met him, she was more concerned with who was contaminating her crime scene. But when his partner, Pete, shifted to the side, allowing her an unobstructed view, her professional mask momentarily faltered.
Cora snorted softly at the memory. She hadn’t wanted to notice him, yet she couldn’t help it. His hair was cropped on the sides and longer on top, casually swept toward his eyes. He reminded her of a little boy overdue for a haircut. But there was nothing boyish about him. She suspected Jeremy was acutely aware of his looks and their effect.
His eyes were mesmerizing, but his smile threatened to steal her breath. Full lips curved up a little higher on one side, giving him a rakish appearance. He was a man who smiled often and knew precisely what his grin did for others.
He was the type who people noticed when he walked into a room. He’d shake hands with men and get clapped on the back while women dropped their panties. She rolled her eyes at the thought, a flush creeping up her neck. Well, there’ll be no panty-dropping here .
The words had become a silent mantra over the past six months, but every time their paths crossed, he seemed determined to charm her, his efforts transparent and unrelenting. And she had to admit, he was charming and funny. And holy hell… gorgeous.
She snorted. She didn’t doubt that from the time he’d hit puberty, maybe even before then, he’d been the cute boy who grew into a gorgeous, confident man. She had no problem with someone being confident, but her earlier years of being around cocky guys had left their mark on her.
Boys in high school teased her because she was short and slow to mature. For some reason, being an intelligent girl who didn’t care for athletics other than running made her a target for the mean girls and the popular boys who ran the school.
Cora couldn’t wait to attend college, seeing it as a fresh start, but soon discovered she never felt at home with the sorority and fraternity mentality of weekend parties, lots of alcohol use and abuse, and having to sleep in the lounge when her roommate had a revolving door of boyfriends spending the night.
Jeremy crossed her mind again. She wondered if he would have felt right at home in that setting.
Her parents had been thrilled with her plans for medical school. For her, it was the only career she wanted. And the idea that she would finally be taken seriously was close to being a reality. However, considering her father was a well-known neurosurgeon in the region, she once again felt she had a target on her back, even at Duke University. She was sometimes treated as though her dad’s prestige made the others critical.
But she’d found her niche in research and pathology. And even though she’d completed her internship and residency in a large hospital in Atlanta, she found the way of life in the rural setting of the Eastern Shore to be a place of respite after…
A sudden beeping jolted her from her thoughts. The alarm from the blood analysis machine broke through the quiet, and she turned toward the sound. Before she could move, Janice, one of her technicians, entered the room, heading toward the lab.
“Oh! Hey, Cora,” Janice said, jumping slightly as their paths crossed. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
“I’m finishing up with Mr. Rudolph,” Cora replied, gesturing toward the body. “The blood results should help tie up a few loose ends for the report.”
Janice nodded, then hesitated. “You okay? You looked a little lost in thought.”
Cora managed a small smile, though her mind still lingered on a certain detective. “Just thinking through the case. You know how it is.”
Saying goodbye to Janice, Cora glanced around as her technician rolled the remains back into the mortuary drawers. He and the woman from the accident would have relatives coming to the Shore tomorrow. She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and walked out of the lab, making her way to the hospital parking lot.
Once home, she prepared a simple garden salad with salmon crumbled on top and poured a glass of tea. Sitting at the small table, she looked out the sliding glass door to the dune leading to the bay behind her house. When she’d first moved into the area, the real estate agent had seen dollar signs at the thought of finding a home for the doctor. But it was too early for Cora to commit to a house until she found exactly what she needed.
She eventually stumbled across a small, older home overlooking the bay. The owner wasn’t ready to sell but was willing to rent. It wasn’t fancy, but the view was outstanding. She inhaled deeply, then let her breath out slowly, releasing the pent-up emotions of the day.
Cora knew many people wouldn’t understand those emotions. To most people, she was just the medical examiner—a detached professional who dealt with the dead. The memory of Jeremy’s words echoed in her mind. Robotic.
She shook her head, sighing as she reached for her fork. Her work was often a subject of morbid fascination. People asked questions out of curiosity, not genuine interest, and she rarely felt inclined to entertain them.
She stabbed her salad with a little extra force, and as she chewed, her mind rolled back, once again, to Jeremy. Their first meeting six months ago had been auspicious as he put his foot in his mouth. She’d wondered if it might be a one-time occurrence, but over the next months, whenever she’d see him, he continually failed at his attempts at humor. It was always so hard for her to tell if someone was making a joke or making her the butt of a joke.
Several months ago, he and his partner had come to the hospital to follow up on a report from a teenager who’d overdosed.
“So this is where you call home?” Detective Pickett asked as he strode in, his gaze flickering to the wall of mortuary drawers. He turned around with his hands on his hips, his eyes twinkling, and his lips curved into the half smile she had seen before.
“No, this is where I work. My home is elsewhere.”
He barked out a laugh. “Are you always so literal?”
“Are you always so flippant?” she retorted.
A stifled chuckle from the other side of the room caught her attention. She swung her head around to see Detective Bolton standing with his fist covering his mouth as though the sound emitted had been a cough.
She had no idea if Detective Pickett was making fun of her or flirting. She almost snorted. If he was flirting, she had no idea how to flirt back. Deciding she didn’t want to waste any more time feeling unsure, she moved to her computer and quickly printed out her report. Taking the pages from the printer, she turned and handed them to Detective Bolton.
“I believe this is what you came for.” She braced, wondering what else Jeremy was going to say. When nothing was forthcoming, she looked his way. The smirk was gone, and she could’ve sworn she’d seen regret flash across his face before being replaced with a polite nod.
“Thank you, Dr. Wadsworth,” he said, his tone soft.
She managed to say goodbye and watched as the two detectives walked out her door. Only then did she realize she had been holding her breath.
Cora looked down at her plate, realizing she’d eaten her meal without tasting it as her mind wandered down memory lane. She knew Jeremy thought she had no idea how to let her hair down and have fun. The truth was that she easily got along with her coworkers in the lab and the other medical professionals in the hospital. Those settings were comfortable for her. But making small talk with someone she didn’t know well? She’d rather endure a root canal.
Years ago, she’d learned that being an introvert often led others to think she needed to “loosen up.” They didn’t understand that introverts weren’t extroverts waiting to burst free from some imagined shell. Introverts simply preferred meaningful interactions with people they trusted, not the casual banter and forced cheerfulness of strangers.
Her attention was dragged away from her thoughts of Jeremy’s misguided attempts at humor. As the sun set, streaks of pink and orange stretched over the bay. As always, the sight lifted her spirits and gave her peace.
Her phone vibrated, and she grinned at the distinctive ringtone. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, darling. I have you on speaker, and your dad’s here. We just wanted to check in to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m good. I was just sitting here, enjoying the sunset over the bay.”
“We can’t wait to visit again once I get a weekend off,” her dad said.
She knew it was difficult for him to take time off, but he’d hinted at slowing down on the courses he taught at the medical school and focusing on his patients. “The spare room is always available, and I can probably get my hands on some fishing poles, Dad.”
“Now that sounds like a vacation.” He chuckled.
“Do you have anything special planned for the weekend?” her mother asked.
“I wasn’t scheduled to work tomorrow but still have to go in. There was a car accident, and the two adults who were killed only have relatives out of town. They are coming in tomorrow, so I’ll work with them.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” her mother said.
“Don’t be sorry for me,” Cora said. “It’s always the family that I’m thinking about.”
“I sometimes think that if you had just stayed in research, you would be spared this part of your job,” her dad admitted.
“Dad, you’re the one who deals with patients and families constantly.”
They spent several minutes looking at their calendars, comparing work schedules and deciding when to meet. By the time the call was over, the sun had set, and the evening shadows had crept to the back of her house. It didn’t take long to clean the kitchen, and Cora poured a glass of wine before checking all the doors to ensure they were secure.
As she carried her glass down the hall toward the bedroom, she thought of how nice it would be to have a pet. However, she was afraid to get a dog because her working hours were often unpredictable. Determined to check out the kittens and cats at the local shelter, she settled in for the evening.
She finished her wine as she read, then brushed her teeth before climbing back into bed. But sleep didn’t come quickly. When she finally turned off the light, her mind betrayed her, filling with thoughts of a certain detective. His blue eyes were sharp and full of mischief, and his lips curved into that maddening smirk.
Cora groaned softly, rolling over and burying her face in the pillow. Yet as she drifted into a restless sleep, those same blue eyes followed her into her dreams.