Page 22 of Half the Summer's Night

The officer nods and pulls the tape away. I duck through and cut across the dew-damp grass, my heart thudding furiously in my chest. Officers from both the police department and the county sheriff’s office are here, all of them swarming around the space like ants. I don’t see Kaplan, but I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.

But I’m not really worried about him. My vision’s focused on that gazebo, though, gleaming in the morning sun.

I can already see the blood.

It spills down the steps like some bright, garish river. My stomach turns over, and I bite back the nausea rising in my throat. I deal with dead bodies every day. I am absolutely not going to throw up over this one.

Even if it’s Olivia Pearce. Even if she protectedme, more or less, when I was a terrified teenager.

As I get closer, I can see more of the damage: the entire floor of the gazebo is soaked in blood, and the deceased?—

Oliva

—is positioned in the center. They’ve covered her up with a sheet, the white already marred with a few spots of blood.

“Ms. Snow? What are you doing here?”

I recognize Kaplan’s voice immediately.

I sigh and compose myself before I turn around, hoping my expression looks bland and professional. Kaplan and Rick Contreras, a detective from the police department, both stand a few feet away. Rick gives me a friendly smile. Kaplan doesn’t.

“I wanted to see the scene,” I say stiffly, digging my nails into my palms. “I heard it was?—”

“Heard from who?” Kaplan asks. “I didn’t tell the department to contact you yet.”

We stare at each other, Kaplan glowering at me from beneath his shock of grey hair. Rick clears his throat.

“Someone at the police department probably did,” Rick says smoothly. I’m sure he believes what he says, but I still appreciate the cover. “It’ll be good to have the coroner check things out. We don’t exactly get a lot of murders around here?—”

Kaplan fixes his gaze on me, like he’s daring me to contradict it. I don’t say anything.

“And this scene is—just brace yourself,” Rick continues. “I’ll let the CSI know you want to take a look.”

“Do you know who the victim is?” Kaplan says coldly. “Not sure you’re necessarily the right person for the job.”

Rick looks at me apologetically before he slinks away. Coward.

“Yes, I’m aware of the victim’s identity,” I say stiffly, squaring my shoulders. “And I don’t know who else would perform the autopsy. The body was found in Rosado. I’m the Rosado County coroner.” I give Kaplan my iciest smile. “Now, I’d like to do my job, please.”

I glide past him, my chin lifted as I make my way to the gazebo. I can feel him watching me, but he doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t try to stop me, either.

Rick is up ahead, talking to one of the CSIs beside the gazebo. I circle around on the grass so I don’t step in the dark, sticky blood on the sidewalk.

This her?” the CSI asks as I approach. “The coroner?”

“Yes. I’m Abilene Snow,” I tell him. “Do I need to cover my shoes?”

“Nah, I’ve already got everything from the steps here.” It’s a second entrance into the gazebo, and it’s far less bloody than the one I saw when I arrived. The CSI tilts his head. “Come on up.”

I suck in a deep breath as I enter the gazebo. The stench of blood is everywhere, sweet and sickly like rotting flowers. I’m not used to smelling blood out in the open. In the frigid, preserved air of my examination room, scents fade into thebackground. Besides, we don’t get a lot of mangled corpses here in Rosado.

Even with… him.

I shove his masked face out of my head. I’m still doubtful he did this. All this terrible theater isn’t exactly how he operates.

“You ready?” the CSI asks, tugging on the white sheet covering the body.

I nod, afraid that my voice will crack if I speak. He peels the fabric back.