Pete arrived at the station well before dawn. As expected, he found Seth in the bullpen, writing up his reports.
“Sorry I stole your partner from your shift last night.” Pete wanted to see Seth’s reaction.
There wasn’t one. “No problem. I worked graveyard alone for a long time before she came to work here.”
Pete dragged a chair from Kevin Piacenza’s desk and straddled it, resting his arms on its back. Seth’s use of the pronoun “she” rather than saying Abby’s name spoke volumes. “What’s going on with you two?”
Seth kept his focus on his computer. “Nothing.”
Pete hated this. He was a cop. The chief of police. He was not a couples’ therapist. “Look. The last thing I want to do is get involved in my officers’ personal lives. Except when it interferes with their duties.”
Seth turned away from his computer and faced Pete, his jaw clenched. “Do you have a problem with my work?”
“No. Nor do I have a problem with Abby’s. Yet. I don’t want it to get to that point.”
“You’ve never worked with someone you didn’t get along with?”
“I’ve been in law enforcement a long time. Of course, I’ve worked with a few jackasses.”
Seth remained stone-faced. “There you have it.”
“I also never slept with my partner.”
“My mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“Dammit, Seth. Right now, you’re being the jackass.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
Seth’s use of “sir” was every bit as telling as his refusal to say Abby’s name. “Off the record. What’s going on?”
The stone face softened. Seth arched back in his chair, stretching his spine, before swiveling to face Pete. “Abby’s cute. And smart. And a damned good cop.”
“But?”
“But I’m only twenty-eight. I’m not ready to get married.”
“Is that what she wants?”
Seth squirmed. “I don’t know. Maybe. You and Zoe and all your wedding plans…Women get swept up in that romantic shit.”
Pete wiped a hand across his mouth to keep from chuckling. “I understand it’s more than that. From what I’ve heard, you’ve been seeing someone else.”
Seth’s face reddened. “Abby talked to you about this?”
“No. Not me.”
“Zoe.”
“So it’s true?”
Seth looked away, his jaw working as if he was chewing on glass.
Pete held up both hands in surrender. “It’s none of my business. Except, as I said, where it impacts your work.” He lowered his arms to the chair back again. “I’m going to move Abby to daylight. Having a second officer on the streets eight to four will free me up to get more of my administrative duties done. I shouldn’t have too much trouble getting it past the board of supervisors.”
“Good.”
Pete gave a nod and pushed up from the chair. “Good.” He rolled the seat back to Kevin’s cubicle.
“Chief?”
He turned to Seth.
“I’m not seeing anyone else.”
“None of my business.”
“I know. But…well…you’ve been more than a boss to me over the years, and I want you to know. I’m not that kind of guy. Yes, Abby caught me hanging out with another woman. Yes, I’d like to date this other woman. But I haven’t. I’m not…” He searched for the word and settled on the one Pete had used. “I’m not a jackass. I’m just not ready for a committed relationship. Not yet.”
Pete thought about it. “Fair enough.” He started toward the door but stopped to look at his young officer. “If you really mean the ‘not yet’ part and think Abby could be the one at some point, there’s something you should keep in mind. By the time you decide you’re done playing the field, she might very well have found someone else.”
Thirteen
Zoe and Doc sat in silence in the small office at the edge of the autopsy suite. The procedure hadn’t revealed anything unexpected except that Franklin had been much sicker than anyone had realized. His kidneys were a mess. His arteries showed evidence of the plaque buildup associated with early-stage vascular disease. Cause of death was definitely acute myocardial infarction. Heart attack. Doc didn’t feel the state of Franklin’s arteries was enough to have triggered it, but as a complication of diabetes? Definitely.
Doc, seated on one of the wheeled stools in the office, broke the silence. “What are you going to list as manner of death?”
Zoe leaned a hip on the edge of the desk, unable to bring herself to sit in the battered vinyl-covered chair Franklin always used. She stared down at the autopsy notes and repeated Doc’s question in her mind.
When she didn’t answer, he said, “Cause of death was the heart attack brought on as a complication of diabetes.”
“I know.”
“Natural?” His tone held a challenge.
“Probably,” she replied. “But no. Undetermined pending toxicology.”
Doc nodded in approval. “That’s what he’d have said too.”
The tears she’d been holding back while watching Franklin being cut open, while participating in his dissection, suddenly threatened to drown her. She choked out a sob. Swallowed hard to stem the flood. And slid down to sit on the floor, hugging her knees.
Doc didn’t move, didn’t speak for several minutes, giving her the time and space to battle her grief. Zoe remembered Doc’s prophetic words after Franklin survived his first heart attack. “I hate when I have to autopsy a friend.” She didn’t ever want to have to do this again. And yet, if she kept the job, it was inevitable.
If. This was the first time since she’d accepted Franklin’s job offer that she’d seriously contemplated her future in the coroner’s office. She missed being a paramedic but accepted she’d moved on. Now? She wasn’t so sure.
Doc checked his watch. “Eleven o’clock. Aw, hell. It’s five o’clock somewhere. How about I buy you a drink. I think we could both use one.”
Zoe inhaled deeply, allowing the oxygen to clear her brain fog. “I appreciate the offer. But as appealing as getting drunk out of my skull is right now, I have work to do.” She pushed up from the floor and dusted off the seat of her pants. “I’m going to personally deliver the blood and tissue samples to the lab and
