The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery Read Free Page B

so we can load the remains. Patrick—your father”—he shot Cameryn another piercing look—“ought to be here any minute, and I think it would be best if you hightailed it out of here before he shows up.”
    Justin’s blue-green eyes met the sheriff’s gray ones. There seemed to be a silent conversation between the two of them as Justin’s arm tightened around Cameryn’s shoulders so hard she almost winced. Looking up, she saw the silver scar on his chin, fine as a strand of hair glinting in winter sun.
    “Watch her, Deputy. Anything”—Jacobs emphasized the word—“ anything can happen now.”
    Once again Cameryn felt as though she’d become a child. Back beneath the suffocating mantle of protection, yet grateful for the security, she allowed herself to be led to the patrol car. Stoic, Justin opened the passenger door and reminded her to put on her seat belt. The car roared to life as he pushed hard on the gas pedal, but she didn’t have the energy to chide him about speeding. Outside, the houses of Silverton, old Victorians painted in candy colors, whizzed by. The homes were as different as the people who owned them. One porch was filled with abandoned items: an old couch with bedding draped over the railing, while the next house, painted a soft yellow, sported a walkway shoveled so precisely the path looked geometric. Two extremes living side by side, just like the emotions that raged in her. Security and independence. Fear and safety. What was she supposed to do with the contradictions? She was now, more than ever, pulled back into the undertow of Kyle O’Neil.
    They were barely on Greene Street when Justin uttered one word: “Why?”
    She looked at him blankly. “Why what?”
    “Why did you do it? I’ve told you over and over again to be careful and you went in there alone .” He choked on the last word.
    Cameryn closed her eyes. “Please, Justin, don’t start. This has already been a really bad day.” She almost laughed at how ridiculously small the word sounded. Bad. Three letters that should have been three thousand. But because they were friends, she forced herself to come up with an explanation. “I guess—I thought I could help.”
    “Help?” There was genuine anger in Justin’s voice, a new sharpness she’d never heard directed at her before. “You’re seventeen—a teenager—so what is it? You think bad things can’t happen to you? That you’re unbreakable?” He snapped his head in her direction. “I’ve got news for you, Cameryn. It doesn’t work that way.”
    She stiffened in her seat, more hurt than angry. “I know I’m a mortal. I get it. But I’m not a child.”
    “Then stop acting like one!”
    Now it was Cameryn’s turn to feel the heat in her cheeks. Glaring at him, she asked, “Why are you doing this? I don’t want to talk right now, okay? Just take me home. My mammaw and my dad’ll ground me until summer, if that makes you feel any better, but right now I’m asking you to leave it alone.”
    “You don’t get it, do you?”
    “Just . . . stop.” Too many emotions crowded inside for her to make room for another lecture. She was too strung out for a fight, especially with Justin. In the past he’d always been the one to steady her and yet now he was making things worse. “I just want to forget about today,” she pleaded.
    “Right. Typical Cameryn Mahoney response. You shut things down when it gets hard. But not this time. Not when the stakes are this high.” When he looked at her the pain in his eyes was unconcealed. “Don’t you understand that I worry about you? All the time. Every minute of every day.”
    Cameryn swallowed, her throat suddenly so dry she wasn’t sure if she could make a sound come out. She felt a tilt inside that she tried to dismiss, because what she sensed might be happening was something she could not deal with any more than she could comprehend the meaning of Kyle’s I’ll love you until your dying breath . Shrugging, in