Circle of Blood (Forensic Mystery)

it, feeling silly yet wonderful at the same time. Being this close reminded her again of how tall he was. The snow had stopped falling while they’d been inside the autopsy room, and the sky had opened up to clear away the clouds. Overhead she could see pinpricks of stars struggling to break through the city’s glow. When she tipped her head back, her hair reached all the way past her hips. “Your hair is so long,” Justin said. He touched it. “Almost as long as Baby Doe’s.”
    “But hers was prettier,” Cameryn replied.
    “I like dark hair better.”
    He said this in her ear. A blush rose in her face, spreading from where his breath hit her cheek and moved all the way across her skin. She was still warm when they climbed into his car and drove onto Main Street.
    Justin said, “I’m from New York. I can’t believe I just called this a ‘big town.’”
    “Anything is big next to Silverton.” Cameryn rolled down the window. Craning her neck, she felt the cold as she drank in the smell of the city. Pungent car exhaust mixed with the odor of fast-food chains. Along Main, she saw freshly plowed snow already darkened from car emissions, as if waves had lapped against it from a dirty shore. She took it all in: the shoppers bustling by, overloaded with bags; lovers holding hands, while fathers herded children. Christmas decorations filled every window. The lights of Durango were yellow, like giant candles, warm and beautiful. She wanted to eat the air itself.
    “Shut that window—we’re gonna freeze,” Justin cried.
    “I want to take it all in.”
    “You’re crazy,” he told her. “Absolutely crazy.” When he laughed, the sound of it rushed over her. She could forget Mariah and Hannah and the bullet wound and her secrets. Justin was pushing the day’s darkness from her mind, and if she tried, she could make it disappear. Everything could still work out fine. Worrying about the case until she knew Dr. Moore’s verdict wouldn’t change a thing. No, she would let herself be carried by this new tide.
    He talked to her about a movie he’d rented and his latest passion, extreme snowboarding. She talked about her plans for college. It wasn’t until they’d settled into the booth, after they’d ordered their food, that she sensed he was about to say what he’d wanted to in Silverton. He put down the fork he’d been twisting between his fingers. A candle was burning in the middle of the table, casting shadows. “So . . . how’s it going with your mother?”
    Cameryn, who had been leaning forward on her elbows, pulled away. Straightening, she said, “Fine. Why?”
    “I’m the one who got the two of you together. I feel responsible.”
    “Don’t. I mean, my relationship with Hannah is fine.”
    “Man, talk about body language. You just got totally tense.”
    To distract herself, she took a sip of water. Setting down the glass, she waited, her hand crimping the cloth napkin she’d placed on her lap.
    “Anyway,” he said, “the truth is, I really didn’t want to talk about Hannah.”
    “Good,” she said, smiling. “’Cause neither do I. This has already been a hard day.”
    “Autopsies are pretty rough. Right,” he said. Justin looked as nervous as Cameryn felt. He picked up the fork again, twirled it, then set it down. “But here’s the thing.” He cleared his throat. Cameryn noticed with amusement he was actually fidgeting. “I . . . I did want to talk about Kyle.”
    The warm feeling she’d been nurturing sank like water into sand. Kyle O’Neil—an Eagle Scout, straight-A student, and football star—had taken Cameryn to Silverton’s Hillside Cemetery and kissed her there. He’d also tried to kill her. A sociopath, Kyle had murdered her favorite teacher, and when Cameryn figured it out, Kyle had gone after her . Then vanished. No one had found a trace of Kyle since he’d disappeared, even though his picture had been plastered all over the Internet. Fox News had done a report, and Cameryn was interviewed on camera. It was this news piece that had put her onto the radar of Jo Ann Whittaker, the university professor who might offer her a full-ride scholarship. So at least, in the end, Kyle had been good for something.
    “Has he been caught?” she asked, tensing.
    “No. The FBI had a bead on him in Texas, but by the time they got there, he was gone. It’s like this guy vanishes into thin air.”
    She shrugged. “Okay. He’s gone. How much does a snowboard