After a brief conversation, she ended the call and returned to the desk, a pained look on her face. “He’ll be at your house Saturday morning, ready to work.”
“Good. I think. What’s wrong?”
She held up her phone. “While we were at Golden Oaks, I missed a text from my mother.”
That explained the expression. “What’s up with Kimberly?”
“She managed to get an earlier flight. She’ll be arriving early Saturday too.”
The next morning, Pete found Abby already at her desk well before daylight shift began. At first, he thought she’d come in to see Seth, but he was out finishing up his patrol.
“Hey.” Pete made an exaggerated point of looking at his watch. “You aren’t on duty for an hour yet. The township commissioners raise hell when I run overtime pay past them even when it’s a necessity.”
“I’m not on the clock yet.” She gave him a weak grin. “I guess my brain is still used to being nocturnal.”
“Insomnia?”
“A little.”
Pete understood. He’d spent many a night at the station rather than lie awake, staring at his bedroom ceiling. “Been there. Done that. But I need you rested.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I have to make a trip to Brunswick later. Think you can run things here without me?” He smiled to let her know he was kidding about questioning her abilities.
She sat taller and struck a military pose. “Sir. Yes, sir.”
Chuckling, he left her to her computer.
A half hour later when Seth returned to the station, Pete noticed the two did no more than grunt a greeting at each other. He’d have to have another talk with them. Even if they weren’t on the same shift, they needed to be able to work together…to have each other’s backs.
Following a busy night—a vehicular accident with two fatalities and an apparent drug overdose—and the resulting busy morning in autopsy, Zoe lugged a handcart loaded with Franklin’s boxed files into a tiny and antiquated tenth-floor office in the historic Monongahela Trust Building across the street from the courthouse.
“Wayne Baronick joked about moving into a broom closet at the hospital.” Zoe set the handcart upright and stretched her back. “I think one of those would’ve been bigger.”
Paulette planted her hands on her hips. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Your confrontation with the powers-that-be at the hospital shot any chance we had at getting anything there. I wouldn’t be surprised if they reclaim the autopsy suite.”
“They’d have to take that up with the coroner’s office.”
Paulette gave Zoe a look. “You are the coroner’s office now. Remember?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Without Franklin’s guidance, this job was proving to be a pain in the ass.
“Speaking of the autopsy suite at the hospital,” Paulette said, “we could’ve moved into the small office in the morgue.”
Zoe pictured the room. Smaller than this one, it was stark and industrial with windows on two sides from which the squeamish could observe the postmortem. Even Franklin didn’t spend any more time there than he had to. “No, thanks.”
“That’s what I figured.” Paulette heaved the top box from the handcart to one of the pair of vintage gray metal desks facing each other. “I spoke with two of the county commissioners I’m friends with and asked them about permanent office space in the Courthouse Annex. They told me they’d work on it. In the meantime, this was the only place within our budget available for immediate occupancy.”
Zoe dropped the next box onto the second desk and looked around. The space boasted one huge dirty window that did little to block February’s chill, a tiny closet, and linoleum flooring that was probably original to the early twentieth-century building. Besides the twin desks, no furnishings came with the rental. “It’s…quaint.”
“They haven’t started renovating this floor yet, which is why it’s vacant. I placed an order for a pair of chairs and a file cabinet.” Paulette looked down at the final and biggest box of the load. “At least there’s an office supply store on the next block. And they deliver.”
One file cabinet wasn’t going to cut it. But with their limited floor space and the temporary state of their residency here, one would have to do. “What about phones?”
“I’ve had all calls transferred to my cell. And the Post Office will forward the mail too. For now.”
“I guess we’re in business then.” Zoe groaned as she tried to lift the last box and recalled her struggle getting it out of the Edge’s cargo compartment. Rather than further strain her back, she shoved it off the handcart. “I have two more loads of boxes plus our computers and a printer.”
Paulette’s eyes widened in shock. “There was more than that in Franklin’s office.”
“The rest is in Pete’s Explorer. He’s gonna bring it by later.” Zoe swept an arm at the boxes she’d already lugged up the claustrophobic elevator and into the office. “I loaded all the important and current stuff in the Edge, so we’ll at least appear competent.”
“I’m surprised Charles Davis hasn’t shown up to say, ‘I told you so.’”
Zoe shushed her. “Don’t even mention his name. You might conjure him up. After dealing with Loretta, I have no patience left for another self-important jackass.”
A knock on the open door spun Zoe around to find a hesitant-looking Lauren Sanders. “I hope you weren’t talking about me.”
Zoe laughed. “Not at all. Come in.”
Lauren didn’t move. Instead she surveyed the office. “Nice.” She sounded doubtful. “Cozy.”
“It’s temporary.”
She still didn’t enter. “I went by the funeral home and was greeted by a rather interesting woman who said you no longer worked out of her business.”
“Did she direct you here?” Paulette asked.
“No. She claimed she had no idea how to reach you.”
Zoe sighed. “I posted signs on both the front and back doors.”
“She must’ve torn the one off the front, but I did go around to the
