Last to Die

helped me a great deal.”

“Has it? Or does this isolation just reinforce your fears?”

Lily looked straight at her. “A healthy fear of the world is what keeps some of us alive. That’s the lesson I learned two years ago.” She continued up the steps, past a shadowy painting of three men in medieval robes, no doubt another contribution from Anthony Sansone’s family collection. Maura thought of unruly students stampeding past this masterpiece every day, and she wondered how many milliseconds this art would survive intact in any other school. She thought, too, of the library with its priceless volumes bound in gold-stamped leather. The students of Evensong must be an unusual group indeed to be entrusted with such treasures.

They reached the second floor and Lily pointed upstairs, toward the third floor. “Living quarters are on the next level. Student dormitories in the east wing, faculty and guests in the west. You’ll be staying in the older part of the west wing, where the rooms have lovely stone fireplaces. In the summer, it’s the choicest spot in the whole building.”

“And in winter?”

“It’s not habitable. Unless you want to stay up all night throwing logs on the fire. We close it off when the weather turns cold.” Lily led the way down the second-floor hallway. “Let’s see if old Pasky’s finished yet.”

“Who?”

“Professor David Pasquantonio. He teaches botany, cell biology, and organic chemistry.”

“Rather advanced subjects for high school students.”

“High school?” Lily laughed. “We start those subjects in middle school. Twelve-year-olds are a lot smarter than most people give them credit for.”

They walked past open doorways, past deserted classrooms. She glimpsed a human skeleton dangling on a stand, a lab bench and test tube racks, a wraparound wall chart with a time line of world history.

“Since it’s summer break, I’m surprised you still have classes in session,” said Maura.

“The alternative is two dozen students going stir-crazy with boredom. No, we try to keep those gray cells humming.”

They turned the corner and confronted an enormous black dog stretched out in front of a closed door. At the sight of Maura, his head instantly perked up, and he bounded toward her, his tail wagging furiously.

“Whoa! Bear!” Maura laughed as he rose up on hind legs. Two giant paws landed on her shoulders, and a wet tongue slathered her face. “I see your manners haven’t improved.”

“He’s obviously happy to see you again.”

“And I’m glad to see you, too,” Maura whispered as she gave the dog a hug. He dropped back to all fours, and she could swear he was smiling at her.

“I’ll leave you here then,” said Lily. “Julian’s been anxiously awaiting your arrival, so why don’t you go on in?”

Maura waved goodbye, then slipped so quietly into the classroom that no one noticed her entrance. She stood in the corner and watched the bald and bespectacled teacher write the week’s schedule on the chalkboard in a thin and skittery hand.

“Eight A.M. sharp, we will gather at the lake,” he said. “If you’re late, you will be left behind. And you’ll miss your chance to see a rare specimen of Amanita bisporigera, which just popped up after the last rain. Bring boots and rain gear. It could get muddy.”

Even from behind, Julian “Rat” Perkins was easy to spot among the two dozen students gathered around Professor Pasquantonio’s demonstration table. At sixteen, he was already built like a man, with broad shoulders that had grown even more muscular since she’d last seen him. She’d relied on those same shoulders last winter, when together they’d struggled to survive in the Wyoming mountains, a battle that had forged a deep and lasting bond between them. Julian was as close to a son as she would ever know, and she saw with pride how straight he stood, how attentive he seemed, even as Professor Pasquantonio droned on in a voice that whined like a mosquito.

“I want all your plant toxicity reports turned in by Friday, before most of you leave for the trip to Quebec. And don’t forget we have the mushroom identification quiz on Wednesday. Class dismissed.”

Turning to leave, Julian glimpsed Maura and his face lit up with a grin. In two steps he crossed to her, his arms already spreading to give her a hug. But at the last instant, aware that his classmates were watching, he seemed to think better of it and she had to settle instead for a quick peck on the cheek, a clumsy clap on the shoulders.

“You finally got here! I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon.”

“Well, now we have two whole weeks together.” She brushed the dark forelock off his face and her hand lingered on his cheek, where she was startled to feel the first hint of a beard. He was growing up far too fast.

He blushed at her touch, and she realized that some of the students had not left the room but were standing around, watching. Most teenagers ignored the very existence of adults, but Julian’s classmates seemed intrigued by this alien visitor to their world. They ranged from middle school to high school age, and their clothing ran the gamut as well, from a blond girl with torn blue jeans to a boy wearing dress slacks and an oxford shirt. All of them were staring at Maura.

“You’re the medical examiner,” said a girl in a miniskirt. “We heard you were coming.”

Maura smiled. “Julian mentioned me?”

“Like, just about all the time. Are you going to teach a class?”

“A class?” She looked at Julian. “I hadn’t planned to.”

“We wanted to hear about forensic pathology,” piped up an Asian boy. “In biology, we dissected frogs and fetal pigs, but that was just normal anatomy. It’s not like the cool stuff you do with dead people.”

Maura glanced around at the eager faces. Like so much of the public, their imaginations were probably fueled by too many TV cop shows and crime novels. “I’m not sure that topic would be appropriate,” Maura said.

“Because we’re kids?”

“Forensic pathology is a subject usually taught to medical students. Even most adults find the subject disturbing.”

“We wouldn’t,” the Asian boy said. “But maybe Julian didn’t tell you who we are.”

What you are is odd, Maura thought as she watched Julian’s classmates exit, their exodus marked by shuffling shoes and creaking floors. In the silence that followed, Bear gave a bored whine and trotted over to lick Julian’s hand.

“Who we are? What did he mean by that?” asked Maura.

It was the teacher who answered. “Like far too many of his classmates, young Mr. Chinn often engages his mouth before his brain. There’s little point trying to decode any deeper meaning to adolescent babbling.” The man peered sourly at Maura over his spectacles. “I’m Professor Pasquantonio. Julian told us you would be visiting this week, Dr. Isles.” He glanced at the boy, and his lips twitched in a half smile. “He’s a fine student, by the way. Needs work with his writing skills, hopelessly bad at spelling. But better than anyone at spotting unusual botanical specimens in the woods.”

Laced though it was with criticism, the compliment made Julian grin. “I’ll work on my spelling, Professor.”

“Enjoy your visit with us, Dr. Isles,” said Pasquantonio gathering his notes and plant specimens from the demonstration table. “Lucky for you, it’s quiet this time of year. Not so many noisy feet clomping up and down the stairs like elephants.”

Maura noticed the clump of purple flowers the man was holding. “Monkshood.”

Pasquantonio nodded. “Aconitum. Very good.”

She scanned the other plant specimens he’d laid out on the table. “Foxglove. Purple nightshade. Rhubarb.”

“And this one?” He held up a twig with dried leaves. “Extra credit if you can tell me which flowering shrub this comes from?”

“It’s oleander.”

He looked at her, his pale eyes lit up with interest. “Which doesn’t even grow in this climate, yet you recognize it.” He gave a deferential nod of his bald head. “I am impressed.”

“I grew up in California, where oleander’s common.”

“I suspect you’re also a gardener.”