the ground as far as he could, where he then died.
Peering inside the passenger side I see that the legs of the corpse closest to me—this one appears to be a woman—are pinned beneath the dashboard. The front grille of the car is crumpled against the trunk of a large oak tree. In the back of the SUV are several suitcases, and beside the body in the front seat, covered with blood and Lord knows what else, is a lockable briefcase. Behind the car I see a mowed-down trail leading back through the brush and trees, presumably the path the car took before it came to rest.
Arnie echoes my thoughts by saying, “They must have been really moving when they left the road to have made it this far into the woods.”
I nod in agreement and pluck another wipe from my container, feeling something tickle along my shoulder as I do. I idly scratch at the spot and watch as Arnie starts taking camera shots of the scene from a variety of angles. Three disinfectant wipes later, with my hands relatively clean, I don a pair of gloves and take in the condition of my scrubs, which are smeared down one side with the death goo. Remembering that Izzy will be coming to the scene, I take out my cell phone and try to call him, thinking I can ask him to bring me a change of scrubs. But my phone can’t find a signal. I snap it shut, grab another wipe, and attempt to remove the worst of the muck from my scrubs using that.
I feel another itch—this time on my chest—and something about it makes me pull at the front of my scrub top and look down inside. To my horror I see a handful of maggots slowly crawling their way across my torso and around my cleavage. Panicked, I try to reach in there and pluck them out but then I feel that same itchy sensation in the middle of my back and realize the little varmints are now in places I can’t reach. I do a jiggly jump-and-hop, hoping to knock them loose, but the itching only grows more intense. Suddenly I feel little itchies all over my body so I do the only sensible thing I can think of. Standing in the middle of the woods on a cold November morning in front of four men and two corpses, I strip off my scrubs and start swiping and swatting at myself like a full-blown detox in a lockdown room.
Chapter 16
“Get them off me! Get ’em off!” I yell, jumping around in the woods wearing nothing but my underwear. I’m brushing frantically at myself, my entire body suddenly alive with creepy crawling sensations. As soon as I’ve rid myself of the maggots I can see on the front of me, I crane my head around in an attempt to examine my back. I can’t see a thing, and just as I feel my panic rise to an explosive crescendo, a steadying hand settles on my shoulder.
Hurley’s breath is warm on my neck as he says, “What is it with you wanting to get naked all the time? Does it have something to do with that nipple incident you never told me about?” His fingers flick a couple of times on my back and then he turns me around and says, “There you go. They’re all gone, at least from the places I can see.”
He is grinning down at me suggestively, and after tearing my eyes from his face, I look around at the rest of the group to see if I’ve made as much of a spectacle of myself as I think. Apparently I have. Arnie is standing off to my right, mouth agape, his eyes riveted to my chest.
A cold breeze rustles the nearby trees, making my skin come alive with goose bumps, which only enhances the crawling sensation. I look down at my chest expecting to see more maggots crawling on me but the only bumps I see are in my bra. My nipples are protruding out from the cold, standing at attention like Madonna on steroids. What is it with me and nipples?
The two sheriff’s deputies have their hands clamped over their mouths, their bodies shaking with mirth. I’m about to give them The Look when I hear a distinctive click-and-whirl sound over near Arnie. I’m thinking he has used his camera to sneak off a couple of shots, but when I look in his direction I see that he’s still standing frozen and transfixed, a small string of drool hanging from one corner of his mouth. Some branches behind him flutter and I see a flash of movement.
I take a couple of steps closer and peer into the brush, quickly identifying the source of the noise. “Damn it, Alison, you might as well present yourself. I know you’re out there.”
The bushes rustle again and a sheepish-looking Alison steps out into the clearing.
Hurley shakes his head and sighs heavily. Then he shrugs off his jacket and hands it to me. “This is starting to feel like a habit,” he says. As I put the jacket on, he walks over to Alison and holds his hand out. “Alison, hon, you know better. Give it over.”
Clearly the endearment isn’t lost on Alison since her guilty expression is fleetingly replaced with a smug one. Then she shakes her head at Hurley and pouts cutely. “No one gets my camera, Stevie, not even you.”
At the utterance of “Stevie” the two deputies both snigger but a death ray look from Hurley shuts them right up, making me a bit envious.
Hurley turns back to Alison and says, “You don’t have to give me the camera, just the film.”
“It’s digital,” Alison says with an unmistakable
My natural endowments put a definite strain on the buttons of Hurley’s jacket but I finally manage to get the majority of my chest under cover. As a result, Arnie snaps out of his coma and tunes in to the conversation.
“It’s all stored on a little memory card,” he tells Hurley. “Make her hand over the card.” Then his eyes grow huge as a thought hits him. “In fact, give it to me. She might have taken some valuable evidentiary shots. I should review it all to make sure there isn’t anything, um”—he pauses and his eyes briefly dart toward my chest before he looks back at Hurley—“anything critical on there.”
I whirl around and glare at Hurley. “If that memory card goes to anyone but me I swear I’ll sic my crazy- assed brother-in-law on all of you.”
The crowd grows silent. Everyone here knows that being the focus of Lucien’s attention is to risk public embarrassment and shame the likes of which most people have never imagined, much less experienced. The man is a master rumor monger and in a small town like this one, rumors spread faster than cold sores at an orgy.
“Give her the card,” Hurley says to Alison. “And then get your ass out of here. I could have you arrested for this, you know.”
I turn back and smile smugly at Alison, but she is clearly undaunted by Hurley’s threats. She bats her eyelashes at him and says in a breathless voice, “Ooh, does that mean handcuffs, Stevie?”
Hurley shoots her a thunderous look and she pouts again, removes the memory card from her camera, and tosses it to me. Her aim is a bit short and I have to bend and reach in order to catch it. As I do so, Hurley’s jacket rides up my backside and I hear him suck in his breath behind me. He leans forward and whispers, “I’ll give you twenty bucks to do that again.”
As I slip the memory card into one of the jacket’s pockets, I feel a blush spreading over my body, but it’s quickly forgotten when the bushes rustle again and Izzy steps into the clearing.
He pauses a moment to take in the scene. “Dare I ask?” he says, his gaze settling on me.
“I wouldn’t,” Arnie says.
“Not if you know what’s good for you,” Hurley warns at the same time.
The two sheriff’s deputies just shake their heads.
Izzy nods. “Okay, then. Let’s get to it.”
Chapter 17
After cleaning my scrub pants off the best I can, I reluctantly put them back on. My top is a total loss however, so I keep Hurley’s jacket, which fortunately helps to cover my crotch vent. By the time I don a plastic gown over it all—better late than never—I feel like the Michelin Man. Finding a place to hook my voice recorder proves challenging, but after testing its ability to pick up what I’m saying from beneath the plastic gown, I
