The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery Read Free Page A

handwriting. Justin, who had finished reading first, began to pace across the back end of the porch, the soles of his boots striking wood in beats that matched the thumping of her heart. The sheriff read it a second time before looking at her with narrowed eyes. “You think Kyle could still be inside?”
    Cameryn shook her head. “No. I was pretty much through the place. I think I would have seen him.”
    “Oh, man,” Justin cried softly. “You should never have gone in there by yourself.”
    “From the decomp I’d say Leather Ed’s been dead at least two weeks. He—his face is gone. I think it was the dog. . . .”
    “What you think is irrelevant, Cammie. We’re gonna need help.” The sheriff snapped open his phone to place an emergency call to the Durango police, requesting backup, while Justin began to pace again. Cameryn stood in a pool of isolation as Jacobs barked orders into the phone. Concentrating hard, she tried to keep her emotional numbness from thawing. Because she didn’t want to feel. If she let in the horror of what had happened she would fall apart, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Yet, against her will, her thoughts jumped back to the night Kyle had tried to kill her. In her mind’s eye she could see Kyle’s dark shape looming on the snow as he’d watched her while she, frozen, stared back. Are you afraid, Cammie? I have a sixth sense. It’s strange—I can almost smell it when people are full of fear. Kyle would be happy to know that she was terrified.
    Across the street a motion caught her eye. It was from a curtain, pulled open less than an inch in a dark slash. Was he watching her from that window? Then the curtain flicked shut, the movement almost imperceptible, and suddenly she felt eyes everywhere. They were in the houses that lined the street. Eyes stared at her from behind trees, peering from the evergreen bushes that formed natural huts along walkways. The full weight of what she’d done came crashing down. She’d gone into a house where Kyle had been and she had stood where he had stood. The thought made her head whirl.
    “You’re one lucky girl.” The skin on Jacobs’s face had paled to a paper white but when he spoke his voice remained all business. “Go home, Cameryn,” he commanded. Justin, who had stopped by the sheriff’s side, nodded curtly.
    Confused, she asked, “Wait—don’t you want me to show you where the body is?”
    This time it was Justin who spoke. “You can’t be a part of this. You’re part of the case now.” Justin, the deputy she’d always been drawn to, stood unyielding in his almost-uniform—his jeans topped by a heavy regulation parka, a badge hanging on a cord around his neck. Dark, too-long hair hung into a thick fringe of lashes, obscuring eyes that were blue or green, depending on his mood.
    “My deputy is right.” The sheriff squatted and grabbed her parka. “It’s a conflict of interest.”
    “But—”
    “You do bodies, Cameryn, not investigations. You’ve screwed this one up already.” With his right hand he held up the note, his eyes narrowing into slits. “This should have been left exactly where you found it and dusted for prints. You took the keys from Leather Ed’s pocket, another error. I can’t afford mistakes. And it’s a good thing you’ve been traumatized by this psycho or I would have traumatized your ass myself for not listening to me in the first place. Here.” Jacobs tossed Cameryn her parka. “Put this on and adios. That’s an order.”
    It was useless to fight them. She yanked on her parka, now cold from being left on the porch. And then she felt his warmth at her side. An arm embraced her, pulling her close. Justin.
    “I don’t think Cameryn should be alone,” Justin said, his voice floating above her head. “It’s not safe.”
    Jacobs nodded. Every muscle in his body seemed locked into place. “I was thinkin’ the same thing. Take her home in the squad car. Leave the wagon here