Zoe had never spent much time in the morgue’s storage room in the hospital basement. While Franklin could’ve placed his hands on the correct box within seconds, she had to figure out the coroner’s filing system. Davis trailed behind, punctuating her failed attempts with exasperated sighs. She kept recalling all the times during the campaign when he’d belittled the efficiency of the office and her qualifications to work there. No doubt he was still thinking those same thoughts.
“Got it,” she called out when she found the small box containing all that was left of Elizabeth Landis.
“Finally.” Davis made a point of looking at his watch. “Let’s get on with it.”
Zoe led the way down the hall to the morgue, wishing Doc hadn’t left already.
Davis crossed the room to the counter holding a microscope. Zoe opened the box, set it next to him, and watched as he picked through the contents.
After several long minutes, she retrieved the stool Franklin had sat on earlier. She couldn’t decide if Davis was meticulous in his work or was simply taking his good ol’ time to annoy her. He studied each slide, scrawled notes, and compared his findings with Franklin’s reports. Clicking on a lightbox mounted to the wall, he scrutinized each x-ray.
Once he’d finished, he turned to Zoe. “I suppose I can have the body exhumed if necessary.”
She almost asked why? But she remembered a notation she’d seen. “No, you can’t.”
Davis thrust out his chest. “And why not?”
Zoe left the stool and moved next to him, poking a finger at a line in the report. “Because the body was cremated.”
He scowled. “Oh.” He peered into the box and plucked out a sealed evidence bag. “At least I see Mr. Marshall kept a hair sample. I’ll take a strand or two with me.”
“We can do that.” Zoe crossed to the cabinet holding a supply of the bags. “But I don’t understand what you hope to find.”
Davis lifted his chin, glaring down his nose at her. “Whatever your office missed.”
Pete rolled into the parking lot of the Vance Township police station with five minutes to spare. Nate Williamson—all six-foot-five, 250 pounds of him—leaned on the front counter, waiting for Pete when he strode in.
“Did you think I wasn’t going to make it back in time?”
“The thought had occurred to me.” Nate glanced at Pete’s secretary. “Nancy can update you. My reports are on your desk.”
Nate usually only worked Saturdays and Sundays at Vance Township, while holding down part-time gigs with two other departments on weekdays. Agreeing to cover for Pete on a Tuesday morning put the officer at risk of being late for another job.
Pete jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Get outta here. And thanks.”
“Nice guy,” Nancy said after Nate left. “I rarely cross paths with him. Scary-looking as all get out, but nice.”
“To you, yeah. Bad guys? Not so much. The scary-looking thing generally keeps them at bay without Nate having to lift a finger.”
“That might explain the quiet morning we had around here.” She handed Pete a short stack of pink callback notes. “Word got out that Officer Williamson was filling in.”
“Are you insinuating that our local residents aren’t intimidated by me?”
She eyed him. “By the uniform? A little. By that look you give some of them? Maybe. But you stand side-by-side with that guy?” She shot a glance at the door through which Nate had exited. “In comparison, you’re a teddy bear.”
Pete huffed, feigning insult. “Maybe I need to hit the gym more often.”
“If by ‘more often’ you mean at all, it wouldn’t hurt.”
“Ouch.” Pete remembered a couple of years ago when Nancy took over from his previous smart-mouthed secretary, Sylvia Bassi. He didn’t think the “new girl” had the gumption to deal with the job. Clearly, he’d been wrong. “Just update me on Nate’s morning already.”
“Robert Cullen was causing trouble at the high school.”
“Bullying?” Pete had been called to deal with the kid at least once every six months since he turned fourteen. Pete would lecture him. Robert would behave for a while. Then he’d start picking on the younger, smaller kids all over again.
“Yep. Nate did his scary-looking routine and Robert promised it wouldn’t happen again.”
“We’ll see.” If Nate’s come-to-Jesus talk worked on the Cullen kid better than Pete’s, he might have to give his weekend officer a raise. “What else?”
“Nothing major. Not from Nate anyway. I’m sure his written report will cover everything.”
Pete picked up the qualification in Nancy’s statement. “What do you mean, ‘Not from Nate?’ Something else going on?”
She rocked back in her chair and folded her arms. “Abby asked for a shift change.”
“I’m sure Seth can run the midnight shift alone for one or two nights if she needs time off. Or I can switch her to weekend duty, so she doesn’t lose any hours.”
Nancy’s lips pressed into an unhappy thin line. “Yeah. No. I don’t think she means one or two nights. She wants a different shift permanently. Or a different partner. Or both.”
The news struck Pete silent. Officers Abby Baronick—Wayne Baronick’s sister—and Officer Seth Metzger had been partners on both the midnight shift and in their personal lives since Abby had joined the department last spring. They worked so well together, Pete had seen no reason to penalize the couple for seeing each other off-duty. In fact, with Vance Township’s small force and even smaller budget, he’d bent rules to put them together when everyone else patrolled alone. Midnight shifts, he’d told the board of supervisors, could be hazardous. Two to a car was a reasonable safety measure. The supervisors either bought it or were romantics at heart and didn’t want to stand in the way of young love.
“Did they have a fight?” Pete asked.
Nancy considered the question. “Not in my presence.”
“Maybe they need to stick together and work out whatever issues they’re having.”
“Maybe.” She sounded doubtful.
Did he want a pair of distracted, bickering cops working graveyard? “I’ll talk
