Chapter 7
Seven
I like to pretend that my bruises are from sex and not tripping over the tree root outside my house.
—Constance to Odin
Odin
The email I’d gotten about the two-day “recess” from the court case worked out incredibly well seeing as I had a dead body on my table that needed to be seen to.
After dropping Constance off at the old Raptor Center, I’d driven straight to my office and got started.
Black met me there along with Gentry.
Gentry was also a Dixie Warden and he worked under Black as a sheriff’s deputy.
“What do you have?” I asked.
“Thirteen-year-old boy. Hung himself in his backyard.” Black paused. “Allegedly.”
“Foul play?” Moses asked.
I studied the ligature marks that were on the kid’s neck.
He was thirteen and had been found this morning hanging from a tree in his backyard.
Today, this kid had been found dead and his dog was nowhere to be found.
Two days ago, his best friend had died in a creek outside his house, and his dog had gone missing.
What in the actual fuck was going on?
I did not believe in coincidences.
“Well,” I said as I studied the marks on his neck. “There are absolutely no struggle marks. See?”
Black, Gentry, and Moses leaned in to study the marks. “Usually, when someone hangs themselves, they claw at their neck or try to get air. It’s instinctual…”
I continued to survey the body. “Moses, do you see this?”
“Looks like a head wound.”
“No, look closer.”
He did.
“Those two marks are from a stun gun,” I said.
“Do you think that he was murdered?”
I wasn’t ready to say that just yet but… “Maybe.”
“The boy’s friend,” I said. “He wasn’t from here?”
If he had been, I’d have done the autopsy.
“No, a couple of counties over. Closer to Bozeman,” Black said. “You’ll let us know what you find?”
I nodded. “I’ll call you when I’m finished.”
Over the next several hours, I found quite a few more inconsistencies that would discredit the suicide theory. By the end of my autopsy, I’d decided that this was murder based on all the facts that I was able to conclude from the examination.
After calling Black and letting him know, I headed out.
The first stop was the grocery store because I was out of chicken breasts.
As I pulled up outside, a familiar redhead was getting out of another new SUV.
“New car?” I drawled.
Constance looked over at me, her face slightly green.
My lips twitched.
“Food poisoning?”
She rolled her eyes and started walking toward the store slowly.
She walked straight to the pharmacy and went directly to the familiar pink bottle of Pepto Bismol.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I headed in the opposite direction to get my chicken breasts.
Karma sucked.
I ended up getting into line behind her and studied her spoils.
She’d gotten the Pepto, but she’d also gotten Imodium, saltine crackers, and ginger ale.
The quintessential “I’m throwing up” party pack.
I stood behind her as she leaned over and let all her stuff spill onto the belt.
Just as she was standing up straight, her face went pale and she ran for the door.
She puked in the bushes long enough for me to put my chicken breasts in the pile of stuff and say, “Ring it all up.”
Monique frowned. “It’s not yours.”
“No,” I agreed. “But I’m paying for hers. Ring it up.”
Monique did not like that at all.
“You don’t know her,” she accused.
I refused to reply.
She finally added my chicken breasts to Constance’s things, and I swiped my card to pay.
I didn’t bother to wait for Monique to bag anything. I bagged it all myself and took off, heading outside to the woman who was still puking in the bushes.
Pity rolled through me as I said, “Follow me to my office.”
She looked up, and I nearly laughed when I saw tears and snot running down her face. Along with a little puke.
“What office?” she asked.
“The medical examiner’s building,” I said. “I can start an IV and get some anti-nausea meds in you.”
“You’re a doctor?” she asked in disbelief.
My brows rose. “Yeah.”
“Really?” she asked.
I could still hear the disbelief in her tone.
“Yeah,” I repeated. “Now, do you want to stop puking or what?”
She frowned.
I held out my hand.
She bent over and puked again.