Chapter 7 Shay #2
Hayes nodded and moved down the table to the victim’s left arm. Or what was left of it. The bone protruded jagged and white from the retracted meat of the forearm, surrounded by dried, blackened blood.
“The tissue damage here is severe. The skin is shredded, irregular. And look at the bone fragmentation.” He adjusted the light, casting a stark shadow over the stump. “This wasn’t a knife. It wasn’t a saw. This was a chop. Something heavy and dull, swung with immense force.”
I felt a sour churn in my stomach. “Post-mortem?”
“Antemortem,” Hayes said grimly. “See the hemorrhagic infiltration in the surrounding tissue? His heart was still pumping when this happened.”
The killer was a bit of a sadist, then. Not surprising.
Hayes picked up a scalpel and turned back to the chest. He made the Y-incision with a single, fluid motion, the blade parting the skin with ease.
I watched, detached yet strangely fascinated. There was something to be said about seeing someone who had once been a person open up so easily—skin yielding, muscle parting, the body offering itself up without any resistance.
Hayes used the rib cutters next, lifting the chest plate away and revealing the ruined machinery of the organs underneath. “Left lung collapsed, just as I thought,” he said, lifting the dark, spongy mass. “Pericardial sac is full of blood.”
The autopsy carried on like that, with Hayes offering commentary all the while. Once we finished up, he moved to the sink to wash his hands. I stayed by the door, pretending to review my notes.
Would it be rude of me to leave now? I wondered, then got annoyed with myself for even thinking that.
This was exactly why it was a bad idea to sleep with people you worked with. It always made things awkward afterward. Professional boundaries existed for a reason, and I’d just obliterated mine with spectacular efficiency.
But it was too late to have any regrets now.
Not that I had many, mind you.
Hayes always seemed so reserved, someone who kept himself on a short leash, so it felt good to see him let loose for once. In my experience, it was always the quiet ones you had to watch out for. They stored everything up until the dam finally broke, releasing all that pent-up energy.
“Is there anything else you need?” Hayes asked, his voice pulling me out of my head.
I looked up—and immediately made the mistake of letting my gaze drift.
His shoulders were broad beneath the thin fabric of his navy blue scrubs, the material clinging just enough to hint at the strength underneath.
They sure felt nice under my hands last night.
My stomach did a stupid little flip.
I wanted to—
No.
Get a grip, Sawyer. You’re acting like a goddamn teenager.
“No, thank you. That’s all,” I told him, not trusting myself enough to linger.
* * *
“Knock, knock. Is anyone home?”
The words had barely left my mouth before something dark and sleek streaked down the hallway, and I stumbled back as Max—all seventy pounds of exuberant Border Collie—charged straight at me.
“Max, sit!”
The command cut through the air, and Max skidded to a halt, his paws scrabbling against the floor as he fought his own momentum.
“Good boy.” I ruffled the soft fur between his ears, inhaling that familiar scent of dog shampoo and something indefinably home that always clung to Mari’s place.
I barely managed to close the door behind me before yet another missile launched itself in my direction, this one considerably blonder and cuter.
“And there’s my favorite cousin!” I cheered, dropping down on one knee to give Ella a tight hug.
“Aren’t I your favorite cousin?” Mari appeared around the corner, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Nah, you lost that title the second this little rascal came out of you.”
Ella beamed up at me, gap-toothed and as adorable as ever. I tapped her little nose, trying not to melt. She was so cute I could just eat her up.
“Speaking of little rascals—” I said, reaching a hand behind me. “Look at what I’ve got.”
Ella let out a gasp when she caught sight of the dress—a pretty lilac color, all soft tulle and shimmer, delicate as spun sugar.
“Rapunzel?” she asked, smiling so wide I thought her cheeks might burst.
“Well, you do have the hair for it.” I gave one of her long, golden braids a gentle tug. “Though it’s a bit too long, no? Mari, grab the scissors!”
Ella’s eyes went wide before she bolted down the hallway, clutching the dress to her chest. I laughed when I heard her bedroom door slam, the echo carrying through the house. She was going to be a riot in her teenage years, I could already tell.
Mari’s arms dropped to her sides, her shoulders sagging with them. “I’m so sorry for springing this on you last minute. It’s just… money has been a bit tight lately, and—”
“Mari, I love you, but please stop talking. If I’m not allowed to spoil my little cousin, then what’s even the point?”
“You could have at least picked something less expensive—”
I held up a hand, cutting her off before she could continue to spiral. “I’m done listening to you.”
I walked away before Mari had a chance to argue and dropped onto the couch.
Max claimed the space right beside me, his warm weight pressing against my thigh.
I scratched behind his ears absently as I watched Mari move around the guestroom, gathering up Ella’s toys and tossing them into a colorful bin.
She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, worn thin at the edges.
Her hair was frizzy, pulled low into a lopsided ponytail.
Her old sweatshirt fit more loosely than it had the last time I visited, exposing the sharp jut of her collarbone.
Even her posture had changed, becoming smaller, folded in on herself, like she didn’t have the energy to stand at full height anymore.
“Where’s Scott?” I asked.
“Work. He got a new job at the gas station downtown. Night shifts.”
I remained silent, though the thought still came—I wonder how long he’ll keep it.
I’d learned to keep comments like that to myself, however.
Mari didn’t need reminding; she already knew.
But knowing and admitting were two entirely different animals.
She’d spent such a long time making excuses for him that it became second nature, a reflex as automatic as breathing.
She deserved better than that man—always had. But try telling her that…
“But enough about me. What’s going on with you? It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
I tried not to wince. In my defense, my schedule had been brutal these past few weeks.
“Sorry. Work’s been a real bitch lately.”
“And what about your personal life?” Mari asked.
“What about it?”
“Any news, I mean,” she said, not even a little bit subtle.
Each time, it was the same story with her. But I couldn’t get too annoyed, since I knew that it came from a good place. She was only trying to look out for me, concerned that I didn’t have a life outside of work—which, to be fair, I didn’t.
Still, that didn’t mean that I liked hearing about it every time I came over. “Nope, no news.”
Mari shook her head, and I could see the lecture forming behind her eyes. “You should really try to get out more, meet some new people, make some friends. Do you even remember the last time you went out on a date?”
As I said, it was the same old story.
“I went out with my coworker last week,” I argued, but Mari didn’t seem to buy it.
“Is ‘went out’ another way of saying you had a one-night stand?”
Damn her for knowing me so well. I sighed. “What do you want me to say, Mari? I just don’t have the time.”
“You don’t want to make the time, you mean. That’s the real problem. Tell me, why couldn’t you have gone out on a nice date with that coworker of yours, instead?”
“It’s Hayes,” I said, as if that explained everything.
Mari made a thoughtful sound. “You’ve mentioned him to me before, haven’t you?”
Had I?
Thankfully, before I could dig myself deeper into a conversation I wanted no part of, I realized something. The house had gone quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant a small child was definitely up to something.
“You know, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Ella. Is she still in her room?”
Mari looked up from where she was crouched by the toy bin, a plastic tiara dangling from her fingers. “Oh, shit,” she said, dropping the toy like it was on fire as she made a beeline straight for her daughter’s bedroom.
All I could do was shake my head.
Motherhood really changed a person, didn’t it? How was this the same girl who once showed up to our American Literature class wearing two completely different shoes? Or the same woman who used to pregame with straight vodka and danced on top of tables till dawn?
Now she had a drawer full of matching hair bows, a Pinterest account devoted to creative lunchbox ideas, and a tiny human who looked at her like she’d personally hung the moon.
Lucky her. Ella was awesome.
Mari’s words continued to echo in my head, though, refusing to be dismissed. They circled like vultures, picking at the defenses I’d so carefully constructed.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was being ridiculous, sabotaging something before it even had a chance to turn into something real.
Hayes wasn’t like the others. He understood the job, the odd hours, the darkness that we waded through daily.
He didn’t expect me to be softer, gentler, more digestible.
He took me as I was—sharp edges and all.
I took out my phone before I could talk myself out of it. My thumb hovered over his contact for a moment, and then I was typing, the words appearing on the screen faster than my doubts could catch up.
I pressed send.