The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery

part of this. You’re part of the case now.” Justin, the deputy she’d always been drawn to, stood unyielding in his almost-uniform—his jeans topped by a heavy regulation parka, a badge hanging on a cord around his neck. Dark, too-long hair hung into a thick fringe of lashes, obscuring eyes that were blue or green, depending on his mood.
    “My deputy is right.” The sheriff squatted and grabbed her parka. “It’s a conflict of interest.”
    “But—”
    “You do bodies, Cameryn, not investigations. You’ve screwed this one up already.” With his right hand he held up the note, his eyes narrowing into slits. “This should have been left exactly where you found it and dusted for prints. You took the keys from Leather Ed’s pocket, another error. I can’t afford mistakes. And it’s a good thing you’ve been traumatized by this psycho or I would have traumatized your ass myself for not listening to me in the first place. Here.” Jacobs tossed Cameryn her parka. “Put this on and adios. That’s an order.”
    It was useless to fight them. She yanked on her parka, now cold from being left on the porch. And then she felt his warmth at her side. An arm embraced her, pulling her close. Justin.
    “I don’t think Cameryn should be alone,” Justin said, his voice floating above her head. “It’s not safe.”
    Jacobs nodded. Every muscle in his body seemed locked into place. “I was thinkin’ the same thing. Take her home in the squad car. Leave the wagon here 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