Read Online Circle of Blood (Forensic Mystery) by Alane Ferguson - Free Book Online
Authors: Alane Ferguson
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hear her father’s accusations , “Do you see, Cammie? Hannah’s crazy. I don’t want you to have anything to do with her anymore. Death follows that woman.” And Hannah, already fragile, might begin to crack. Cameryn had already sensed fissures running beneath. The accusations, the whispers—what if that kind of questioning sent her mother to her own desperate act of self-destruction? Why open a Pandora’s box ? Wait. Just wait.
“You ever see this person before?”
It took a moment for her to register that Sheriff Jacobs was now standing next to her. For a moment Cameryn imagined Mariah’s spirit hovering overhead, watching her tell the lie. “No,” she answered. It was only a partial untruth. She didn’t know Mariah’s last name or where she was from. She really didn’t know this girl at all.
“I want to roll her,” Jacobs announced.
“Okay, I think we’ve got enough.” Justin was squatting over the body, his hands dangling between his knees, lost in concentration. “I need to clear the gun.”
“Do it,” said Jacobs.
Gingerly, Justin took the .22 from Mariah’s grip. With gloved hands he emptied the bullets from the revolver and dropped them into a paper bag. The gun itself went into a separate paper bag. “Can you initial these?” he asked Cameryn.
Cameryn wrote C.M. on the yellow tags.
“Ready to flip the body,” said Jacobs. “I want to get a look at this kid. Deputy, on the count of three.”
“One, two, three!” The two men gently pushed Mariah over, and Justin pulled the hair away from her eyes. If Cameryn had any doubts before, they disappeared when she saw the face. In death the features were even more doll-like, with her pale, wide-set eyes, the freckles looking not so much like honey now but like rust against the too-white skin. Mariah had already stiffened up, from the cold or rigor or both. Her right hand stayed in position, her fingers still cocked against the side of her head, while her left arm remained rigid at her side. Pale blue eyes had already begun to cloud, as though the irises had been infused with milk.
“Cammie, do you have any idea how long she’s been dead?” Jacobs asked.
Both Jacobs and Justin were looking at her, expecting answers. She took a series of short, deep breaths and commanded herself to think clinically. Crouching near Mariah’s head, Cameryn placed one hand on the cheekbones and the other on Mariah’s chin. She tried to pull the jaw apart, but it barely moved. She then moved it side to side, trying not to notice the tiny serrations on the edge of Mariah’s teeth and the blank way she stared at Cameryn.
“What are you doing that for? ” Jacobs asked, peering at her over his glasses.
It was important she mirror her father’s impassive face, his air of professionalism. Other feelings must be shoved underground. In what she hoped was a commanding voice she said, “There’s not much tissue on the jaw, so rigor shows up here pretty fast. She’s been dead about two hours. More or less.”
“Crowley, check her backpack to see if you can find any ID. I’ll pat down her pockets and search her coat.”
It was then that the thought, so obvious, slammed against her. How could she have been so stupid? Her mother’s wallet would be inside that backpack, or maybe tucked inside a pocket of the blue coat. There it would be, a clear direct piece of evidence linking the two. Like a drum, the thought beat through Cameryn: If they got to Hannah first, she would tell the story about Cameryn and the chase and they would all realize that she, Cameryn Mahoney, Assistant Coroner, had lied about knowing Mariah. That might be enough to make her lose her job. It was now or never.
“Justin!” she cried.
“What the—?” Justin looked inside the backpack. He peered closer, pulling the flap as far as it would go, angling it beneath the lights.
“You got something?” Jacobs asked. “’Cause her pockets came up clean. No ID. You got anything that
“You ever see this person before?”
It took a moment for her to register that Sheriff Jacobs was now standing next to her. For a moment Cameryn imagined Mariah’s spirit hovering overhead, watching her tell the lie. “No,” she answered. It was only a partial untruth. She didn’t know Mariah’s last name or where she was from. She really didn’t know this girl at all.
“I want to roll her,” Jacobs announced.
“Okay, I think we’ve got enough.” Justin was squatting over the body, his hands dangling between his knees, lost in concentration. “I need to clear the gun.”
“Do it,” said Jacobs.
Gingerly, Justin took the .22 from Mariah’s grip. With gloved hands he emptied the bullets from the revolver and dropped them into a paper bag. The gun itself went into a separate paper bag. “Can you initial these?” he asked Cameryn.
Cameryn wrote C.M. on the yellow tags.
“Ready to flip the body,” said Jacobs. “I want to get a look at this kid. Deputy, on the count of three.”
“One, two, three!” The two men gently pushed Mariah over, and Justin pulled the hair away from her eyes. If Cameryn had any doubts before, they disappeared when she saw the face. In death the features were even more doll-like, with her pale, wide-set eyes, the freckles looking not so much like honey now but like rust against the too-white skin. Mariah had already stiffened up, from the cold or rigor or both. Her right hand stayed in position, her fingers still cocked against the side of her head, while her left arm remained rigid at her side. Pale blue eyes had already begun to cloud, as though the irises had been infused with milk.
“Cammie, do you have any idea how long she’s been dead?” Jacobs asked.
Both Jacobs and Justin were looking at her, expecting answers. She took a series of short, deep breaths and commanded herself to think clinically. Crouching near Mariah’s head, Cameryn placed one hand on the cheekbones and the other on Mariah’s chin. She tried to pull the jaw apart, but it barely moved. She then moved it side to side, trying not to notice the tiny serrations on the edge of Mariah’s teeth and the blank way she stared at Cameryn.
“What are you doing that for? ” Jacobs asked, peering at her over his glasses.
It was important she mirror her father’s impassive face, his air of professionalism. Other feelings must be shoved underground. In what she hoped was a commanding voice she said, “There’s not much tissue on the jaw, so rigor shows up here pretty fast. She’s been dead about two hours. More or less.”
“Crowley, check her backpack to see if you can find any ID. I’ll pat down her pockets and search her coat.”
It was then that the thought, so obvious, slammed against her. How could she have been so stupid? Her mother’s wallet would be inside that backpack, or maybe tucked inside a pocket of the blue coat. There it would be, a clear direct piece of evidence linking the two. Like a drum, the thought beat through Cameryn: If they got to Hannah first, she would tell the story about Cameryn and the chase and they would all realize that she, Cameryn Mahoney, Assistant Coroner, had lied about knowing Mariah. That might be enough to make her lose her job. It was now or never.
“Justin!” she cried.
“What the—?” Justin looked inside the backpack. He peered closer, pulling the flap as far as it would go, angling it beneath the lights.
“You got something?” Jacobs asked. “’Cause her pockets came up clean. No ID. You got anything that
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