The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery

“You’re right, this whole thing has been hardest on you.” She felt a light kiss on the crown of her head. Inside she felt as tight as wire, the panic pulling her so thin she was afraid she would snap into pieces that would curl away like ribbons.
    “Cammie, it’s going to be okay. I told you before. We’ll get him.”
    “But I want you to promise,” she whispered. Her breathing was ragged as she swallowed back panic. “Promise me they’ll get him and I can forget about all of this death?”
    “Yes, Cammie, I promise.” She could feel how strong Justin’s arms were. Stronger than she’d known.
    His voice was husky as he said, “You did good getting him to use the phone of Leather Ed’s. That was the key. You need to stay tough and get through this last little bit.”
    “I did everything Andrew said and I’m not sure it was right.”
    “Of course it was right. Andrew is with the FBI. He knew exactly what to do and you did it and it worked. Quit trying to second-guess yourself, Cammie. Let someone else carry the load now, okay?”
    Cameryn looked at the office door’s small pane of glass. SHERIFF’S OFFICE was stenciled in black, along with a gold star. Shadow figures moved past the rippled glass, and she thought how strange it was that life for them went on, that it went on for everyone, even though hers had been placed on pause. The shadow people in the hallway were there on business, tying up the threads of their everyday lives in a courthouse that was the heartbeat of the town, oblivious to the drama playing inside this small room. She wished for their blissful ignorance.
    But she was finding strength inside herself, too, siphoning it off Justin and pulling it up from the depths of her own soul. As she stood, her body pressed into his, she could feel it. She felt herself coming back together as her breathing slowed. Of course Justin was right. She had to take the step to trust someone else, to let the police do their job.
    He’d been so good to her through this, a rock. In her mind’s eye she tried to see her path with him but it was as cloudy as the images behind the glass. There was no way to guess where they would end up, but for once she didn’t require herself to scientifically solve the equation, to have the answer neatly filled out on the page in the certainty of black and white. Here, listening to his heart thud beneath his jersey, encircled by his protecting arms, she could just be .
    “Are you okay now?” he asked. He pulled his head back so he could look into Cameryn’s face.
    “Better.”
    “Good.” He smiled, but it was cautious, like someone sticking a toe in the water to check out the temperature. “You’re sure?”
    “Did you know there are people out there? In the hallway. Why are they here on a Saturday?”
    Relief sparked in his eyes and she figured her outburst must have really scared him. “Because the Silverton County Courthouse is a happening place,” he said with forced cheer.
    “Yeah.” Cameryn managed a small smile. “It holds the sheriff’s office—”
    “—which is right next to the Motor Vehicle Registration Office, which is next to the Clerk Recorder. We are big-time city now, open for a half day on Saturday.” He stepped away from her, holding her elbow to make sure she was steady on her feet. “Look, I’ll do whatever I can to make this easier on you. How about I call the sheriff again and get an update?”
    “That would be great. Don’t tell him I’m freaking out, though. I don’t want anyone to know.”
    “Freaking out is a secret held between you and me. And go ahead and start pacing again if it will help. Just don’t wear the shine off the floor. Have mercy on this old building. It’s an antique.”
    Cameryn knew how true that was. The sheriff’s office was nestled in the center of the county courthouse, a gray stone building built in tiers with a gray slate roof. The cement stairs leading up to the building were guarded by pillars that supported a widow’s walk. A large clock tower was topped by a golden dome, a Victorian touch, of which many Silverton residents seemed inordinately proud. Inside the building was a small lobby protected by a wall of glass honeycombed with wire, and beyond that ran a wide wooden hallway Cameryn knew well. Various governmental departments were accessible from either side of the corridor, their names stenciled in the same block letters on identical glass panes. The sheriff’s office, halfway