The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery

soon as Kyle O’Neil is locked up in prison. I want to read the rest of this file and then I’d like you to take me to see Leather Ed. Is his body still here?”
    Confused, Dr. Moore answered, “Yes, he’s in the cooler. But—”
    Cameryn shook her head. “I’ve got a quick call to make and then I need to go through these files. Kyle typed a message to me, Dr. Moore. He said ‘you can see my mind in what I left behind.’ There is something in here, in these files or on that body, that he left for me. This is about me .”
    “That is not why I brought you here.” Dr. Moore’s face darkened. “The threat—”
    “It doesn’t matter.” She almost laughed at the absurdity of the idea of safety. “I’ll be in danger until he is caught. Life is risky, Dr. Moore. I could get sick or get struck by a car. The truth is there is no place to hide. No one is ever really safe.”
    “But to be so incautious when the stakes are life and death—”
    “That’s just it,” Cameryn interrupted. “I don’t want to be cautious. I don’t want to be a victim anymore. Look, you’re right, I am a fighter. You fight your battle and you can watch me fight mine. And I can guarantee you something.” Now it was she who reached out to squeeze Dr. Moore’s gnarled hands.
    His voice turned suddenly husky as he asked, “What could you possibly guarantee?”
    “We’re going to win.” She pressed her thumb across the back of his hand. “Both of us. Cancer, crazy people, whatever, bring it on. Just watch what we can do.”

Chapter Eleven

    DR. MOORE EMERGED from his office with Leather Ed’s file clutched in his hand. His lab coat hung loosely at his sides. He watching her, eagle-eyed, as she quickly snapped her BlackBerry shut. Her ’ Bye hung in the air.
    “I gave you a moment of privacy, just as you asked,” he said. “So tell me, Miss Mahoney, whom did you call?”
    She shook her head.
    “You aren’t going to tell me?” His eyebrows rose up into his forehead, causing the skin to pleat.
    Cameryn, who had been leaning against the wall, hopped forward. “Not yet. I want to see how it plays out. I left a message.”
    “So you’re saying you prefer to remain mysterious.” The deep grooves on either side of his mouth reached all the way down to his jawbone, which gave the impression of a perpetual frown. “After your little pep talk I thought we were on the same team. No matter.” He waved her protests away. “You asked to see the remains of Leather Ed. Against my better judgment, I’m prepared to comply. But make no mistake; I will keep you on a tight leash. Shall we?” He swept his hand toward the hallway and she understood the unspoken message immediately. Whatever vulnerability he’d shared with her was to be kept private, and he wanted no dramatics as they stepped back into the real world. He was once again the commander of his ship. And yet . . . something had changed. She could see it in his eyes. A single emotional thread stretched between Dr. Moore and Cameryn, a sentimental filament that bound them, one to another. He cared about her, no matter what his gruff exterior showed.
    “Follow me, Miss Mahoney,” he said with a brisk nod. Walking at a hurried pace he escorted Cameryn through the autopsy suite, flipping on a bank of lights. It was the first time she’d seen it empty. Ben, she guessed, must be in the histology lab with her father, and it surprised her to see how still the place looked, like a carnival where all the rides had shut down. The cavernous sinks were empty, the gurneys were gone, the floor had been mopped clean, all the tools whisked away and countertops laid bare. Dr. Moore’s shoes squeaked against the tile as he walked, while Cameryn heard her own staccato rhythm, amplified because she wore no booties to muffle the sound.
    “Have you been in the cooler?” the doctor asked.
    “Yes. Once.”
    He pivoted on one foot and began walking backwards, as graceful as a dancer. “You may want to reconsider going in there. Do you remember the decedent was in full decomp?”
    “I remember,” she said, shuddering at the memory.
    “Yes, well, the dog, of course, damaged the facial tissue and outer extremities. It was the lungs that told the story. I don’t know what you expect to find on his remains.”
    “I’m not sure, either,” Cameryn replied. “When is he going to be released to a funeral home?”
    “I have no idea. So far we’ve got no next of kin.” With impeccable