Read Online The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery by Alane Ferguson - Free Book Online

twisted in her stomach again as she pictured the body that was less than thirty yards away. A body that had something to do with her. Her mind flashed again to the note, but she shook her head, trying to force the thought away. “Ben, we need to concentrate on this case. I’ve got to leave Leather Ed alone—it’s a conflict of interest.” She picked up a sponge and mindlessly put it back down again, then did the same with a pair of forceps. How could she explain it so that Ben could understand? Examining Brent Safer made her an expert. Thinking about Leather Ed’s corpse made her a victim all over again.
    Plunk, plunk, plunk —with a sure hand Ben punctured the skin, leaving a trail of Frankenstein-looking stitches up Brent Safer’s chest. Ben eyed Dr. Moore and bent closer still. “All right, have it your way,” he murmured. “Remember, all you got to do is ask.”
    “What are you two whispering about?” Dr. Moore demanded. His fists, balled up, were planted on his hips. Water and blood had sprayed against his apron in a psychedelic pattern of red. He eyed them suspiciously.
    “Nothing,” she answered, too loud. She felt like she was back in junior high, caught passing notes. It was hard to meet his gaze, but she forced herself to, and then, using her cheeriest voice, she said, “Ben was explaining how he worked in a funeral home. It’s amazing. He knows all the angles.”
    “Yeah, that’s right,” Ben agreed. “See, I was telling Cammie how I used to work there before I started in this crazy business. Now Cammie, check out that bucket by the sink. I want you to put in about a cup of ProForce floor cleaner in the bucket, fill it with water, and grab a Scotch-Brite sponge, and then I want you to scrub this man down. We got to get all the blood off him.”
    “You clean the bodies with floor cleaner?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
    “Uh-huh,” Ben replied, and now the familiar smile was back. “It cuts the grease. Fat from the body makes everything kinda slick. After you scrub, I’ll show you how to rinse ’em with a hose. I got my own diener hose while the doc’s got his. Equal opportunity cleaning.”
    “Yes, yes, the system is wonderful,” Dr. Moore said, seemingly satisfied. “A little less chatter and a little more speed, Ben. We’ve got a decedent waiting.”
    Cameryn released a breath, happy she’d smoothed over the rough patch. Stepping away from Brent Safer’s remains, she was heading for the yellow plastic bucket when she felt her BlackBerry hum in her pocket. Curious, she pulled it out and looked at the screen, holding it gingerly in her gloved hand. It showed a local number she didn’t recognize.
    “Hello?” she said. She could hear breathing on the other end, low and rasping. “Hello?”
    No answer.
    Justin, alert to the sound of her voice, whirled around to look at her.
    “Hello?” she asked again.
    “Who is it?” Justin demanded.
    Cameryn shrugged in reply. She pressed her phone more tightly to her ear. The breathing was still there, but louder. “Who is this?”
    “There are no calls in the autopsy suite,” Dr. Moore barked. “Tell your little friend you’re working and hang up.”
    And then a voice began to speak to her, disembodied and strangely sweet, a lover’s voice, crooning in her ear.
    “You shouldn’t be in the morgue, Cammie.” There was a tsk ing sound, three short beats, like the tick of a clock. “What about my note? You’re a naughty girl.” The breathing began again, in and out, like a bellows.
    Cameryn felt her body go rigid, the phone now ice in her hand. Her heart began to beat wildly while her mind registered the voice that she never wanted to hear again.
    “I’ve missed you, my Angel of Death. We belong together. And we will be, very soon. I promise you that.”
    Justin, sensing what was happening, darted toward her while Cameryn wheeled, dark spots appearing in front of her eyes. Somehow her body had stopped breathing. There were