The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery

His jawbone had been wiped clean.
    She could feel the horrified expression on her face as the room began to wobble at the edges of her periphery. Forcing her breathing to slow, Cameryn tried to make herself think rationally.
    The German shepherd must have gotten to the corpse . His dog did this. From her forensic studies she knew animals could consume their masters after death. You’ve still got to get the keys. Keep going, she commanded as she moved closer to the body.
    She wouldn’t have noticed the piece of paper folded neatly on the end table next to the body but for her name. The word Cameryn had been printed with beautiful precision.
    She reached out and grabbed the parchment, written in a perfect cursive hand.

    To Cameryn, my anam cara ,
    I will love you until your dying breath. Please believe that I will find you, my Angel of Death. We are bound by cords you cannot break. Two worlds, intersecting separate pieces that the fates will never break apart. Trust that I will be with you soon.
    In eternal adoration,
    Kyle O’Neil

Chapter Two

    BY THE TIME she made it back to the kitchen door Cameryn felt her composure begin to crack. Thud thud thud— the sound of her own heartbeat drummed in her ears as she tried to get the key into the keyhole but her hands were shaking too hard. The tip of the key slipped to the side, leaving a scratch on the brass, until on the third try the deadbolt gave way. Before the sheriff could say a word she thrust the note into his hands.
    “Leather Ed is dead,” she gasped. Although she’d been running, her skin had grown unbelievably cold. Her heart pounded against her sternum like a fist. She tried not to meet Justin’s gaze as he stared at her with a look of horror but instead spoke directly to the sheriff.
    “This was left next to Leather Ed. Kyle—he’s been here. I don’t know how long ago he left, but he was in that house.”
    “What the . . . ?” Jacobs’s face twisted as his eyes skimmed the note’s precise 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