4. Why Is She Still Here?

Two strangled victims in a row made me hate Landscombe even more. The ocean, though, gave me a thought. I needed to start carrying a jar of seawater in my backpack. The ocean always healed me—thanks, Dad—so maybe it would help after readings.

My throat was killing me, my head pounding, but the rest of me felt fine. When I opened my eyes, I realized I was sitting on Declan's lap. He was on the chair, a strong arm around my waist to keep me from tumbling to the floor again. That was nice.

Hernández crouched beside me again. "Your neck," she whispered, her expression pained.

"It'll fade," I croaked. Damn, that hurt! "Water?"

The doctor was already there, with a paper cup of water. I wanted to smack it out of her hand, but I wanted the drink more. I slipped on my glove and took the cup, taking a tiny sip. It felt like knives going down, but then the pain began to lessen. The doctor made to poke at my neck, causing me to jerk and spill some water on Declan's leg. I swear, I couldn't remember wanting to hex someone more in my life! Well, maybe my cousin Colin. He was the worst.

"Could you all excuse me for a moment?" I whispered.

"What?" Landscombe said. "Of course not. I'm not leaving you alone with evidence."

I stood. "She's my cousin Pearl, not evidence." Turning to Hernández, I said, "Can you all just move back, away from me? I need to do something."

Declan moved between me and the other women. "I think I know what this is. She won't touch the body. Let's give her some space now." His deep, solemn voice finally got them moving to the other side of the room.

I took off my gloves and prayed to the goddess to give my voice the strength it needed to send Pearl on to the other side. I closed my eyes and lifted my hands and face to the heavens, singing the song of death for Pearl, sending her on with our love. I was announcing her arrival, telling the souls there that they were receiving a gift of kindness and light, one we hadn't been ready to part with.

Tears streamed down my face, but the goddess had given my voice the strength to complete the ritual. When my last note echoed in the sterile room, I bowed, fingers to my forehead, thanking the goddess and saying goodbye to Pearl.

I stood, wiped my face, and pulled on my gloves, grabbing my backpack and water cup. It was time to go. I went to the door and waited for Declan to open it for me, as my hands were full. I strode down the hall to the front door.

"Arwyn, wait. What did you see?" The detective and the doctor followed us.

"Give me a minute. I want out of here," I whispered, knowing Declan would hear me. Ritual over, the pain and hoarse voice had returned.

He did and passed it on.

Once outside, I went to his truck. "Heat?"

He opened the passenger side door, picked me up, and placed me on the seat. I took another sip, felt it go down easier, and placed the cup in a holder. Declan slid behind the wheel and started the engine, cranking up the heat for me. I unzipped my backpack and pulled out a sketchbook and charcoals.

I slammed the door closed, rolled down the window, and started to sketch the man who'd killed my cousin. Hernández leaned against the truck door, watching me work. When I was done, I took a bigger gulp and felt the pain fading.

Handing the detective the sketch, I said, "That's not him, though."

Landscombe looked over Hernández' shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Hernández was studying the image.

"That was the face he showed her, but it's off. I think the shape of his face is right. The dead eyes are right, but the last thing she saw was him scrubbing his wet hands over his face, cleaning something off. It could have just been makeup. I think, though, it's both skin tone and a fake nose or chin. I think that was why he only kissed her once. That, and it didn't feel like sex drove him.

"It was her first kiss," I continued, throat sore but getting better. "She was too discombobulated to notice anything, but I think the kiss messed up the putty or makeup or something. Maybe he has theater experience. Maybe not. He's a sociopath, I can tell you that, so taking drama lessons fits. He needed someone to teach him how to react like a normal human being."

"Can you start at the beginning?" Hernández asked.

"Sure." I told her all about the short, tragic courtship of Pearl Corey. "She thought he was a student, but I'm not so sure."

"Why?" the detective asked.

"Hard to explain." I thought a moment. "It all seemed contrived, right from the beginning. A quiet girl, hiding behind a curtain of hair, and that's the one he approaches. There were lots of empty tables, but he asks to take her chair? Nah. He wanted to know if someone was coming, someone who might see him and mess up his plans.

"And then he checks which professor she has before talking about a different one. No one recognizes him, even when walking in the dorm or around campus. She sees him as confident and outgoing, but no one even waves at the rich, good-looking, charming guy? I don't buy it. He didn't belong there. He was isolating and manipulating her.

"I mean, is short blonde hair even important to him," I continued, "or does he just get off on making her do something she absolutely doesn't want to do?" I shrugged. "No idea. He paid cash for their meals, so she never saw a card."

"Name?" Hernández asked.

I shook my head. "He introduced himself as David, but I don't think that's it. He's tall. She had to look up to him. Not Declan tall, and Pearl is petite, but probably six feet. Dark hair, blue eyes. He's white, lightly tanned, but that might be makeup. He doesn't feel like an outdoorsy guy, so he's probably much paler than he appeared." I shrugged. "All of that is feel on my part, though. All I know for sure is what I saw."

The doctor scoffed at that.

Tossing the sketch pad into Declan's lap, I stepped out of the truck, forcing Hernández to step back. "That's it. I'm sick of your shit, sister." I held up my fists. Spelling her would have been easier, but I was itching to whoop her the old-fashioned way.

Hernández immediately stepped between us. "Okay. That's enough." She turned to her friend. "You should go in."

The doc was super snooty but left right quick, which, honestly, was all I wanted.

"That one," I said, pointing over the detective's shoulder, "is not your friend. She's an asshole."

"Too bad," Declan rumbled. "I'd have enjoyed watching you lay her out."

"Me too," I groused.

"Hop in," he said. "Let's get you home and fed."

"Thank you," the detective said. "I'm sorry about—well—all that."

"Not your fault," I said, pulling myself back into the cab.

Before Declan could pull away, though, another familiar vehicle parked right in front of us. Detective Osso stepped out of his SUV. He nodded to Declan and then came to my open window. Osso was a bear shifter. He was almost as tall as Declan but even broader across the shoulders. He was a dark-skinned Black man who wore a perpetual look of annoyance.

"Ms. Corey, as long as you're here, I could use your help."

"No, no, no," I muttered, rolling up the window.

He laid his hand on the top edge of the glass and stopped it. Stupid strong shifter.

"Ms. Corey," he said disapprovingly.

Hernández patted his arm. They often worked together and though she was fully human, she knew that the rest of us weren't. She gestured to the coroner's office. "Joyce switched corpses on Arwyn, so she had to do two readings on women who'd been strangled. Her voice is just now starting to sound like itself. She's already been through a lot tonight."

"Landscombe's on duty? Damn." Patting the glass, he said, "I'm sorry she did that to you. If you're not up to it, that's okay." He paused. "There's just something about this lady. It makes no sense. And she's got this big grieving family, calling me every half hour for an update. I've got nothing for them, so I notified the coroner's office I was coming in to see her. I need to tell her family something. They're heartbroken."

I sighed and Declan patted my knee. He knew I was going to go back in. Damn it. I grabbed the backpack and opened the door.

"You should be ashamed," Hernández murmured.

Osso shrugged. "It got her out of the truck."

I trudged past the detectives. "You two both suck."

Osso moved ahead, tried the locked door, and then knocked, his wedding ring pinging loudly off the glass.

Landscombe stuck her head out the door and looked down the hall.

"I can't believe you knocked her chair out from under her," Hernández whispered to me.

"I'd have paid to see that," Osso rumbled.

"Can you check to make sure it's the right body?" I asked him. "I don't trust her as far as I can throw her. She's a snotty bitch who has a lazy doctor working under her. I called it out and now her ego demands that she bring me low. I'll do this for you, but you have to keep her away from me."

"Done," Osso said. "It helps that she's afraid of me."

The doc looked pissed, but she pushed open the door. "Yes?"

"I need to see my victim and any report that may have been generated," Osso said, voice deep and commanding.

"Reports are available in the secured database. I believe you know that, Detective." She wasn't giving any ground.

"I do," he said. "As of ten minutes ago, it hadn't been uploaded, though, so I'd like to see my victim again and see if there are any preliminary findings."

She didn't let him in, though. She stared around him at me. "Why is she back? I don't want her in my morgue."

Osso nodded gravely. "I can understand that. No one enjoys their errors being brought to light." Before she could respond, he went on, "Regardless, Ms. Corey is consulting on this case. Now," he said, stepping forward and forcing her back, "we won't trouble you any. We just need to see Magdalena Lopez's body."

Landscombe was clearly torn and pissed off. Osso had a right to see the victim. She didn't want me in her facility, but the way Osso conducted his investigation was not hers to oversee. After a moment, she stepped aside, telling him the victim was in the exam room, second door on the left.

Osso, Declan, and I went ahead, but the doctor held Hernández back for a hissed conversation. I didn't have Declan or Osso's superior hearing, but I got enough to know a friendship was going down the drain right now. I would have felt guilty about that, but since Osso hated her too, it took some of the weight off me.

Detective Osso opened the door and the overhead fluorescent lights flickered to life. No gurneys in this room. Just a wall of metal drawers holding dead bodies. Osso walked over and checked the information on each door, looking for the identifiers for his victim.

Halfway down the row, he grabbed the handle and pulled the drawer out. The overwhelming medicinal scent of the facility couldn't mask the stench of death. And again, it was probably much worse for the other two, as they both had a shifter's excellent sense of smell.

Osso lifted the sheet to see her face and then replaced it, nodding to me. I glanced around for a chair and then saw Declan carrying one toward me. He sat down and waited.

"You're right," I said, sitting on his knee. "It was nice not coming to on the floor last time."

"I really hate seeing you hurting and then crumpling on the ground," he grumbled. "We need to figure out ways to make this easier on you."

My back went up a little, as I wasn't his problem to fix, but then I relaxed back into him. I'd been dealing with this on my own for a very long time. Everyone just took it as normal that I dropped to the ground, often hitting my head. No one, Mother included, ever said, We need a new plan. Arwyn shouldn't be getting hurt like this. Having someone care about me and not just what I could do was strange. Not unheard of—Aunt Sylvia loved me for me—but it was unusual. I was, consequently, having a hard time adjusting to and trusting Declan's desire to help.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Grabbing my glove, I looked over my shoulder. "If the smell is getting to me, it must be horrible for you guys."

Both men nodded, their faces strained. Osso moved the sheet so part of her foot was accessible. Touching dead bodies was officially my least favorite thing to do. Nevertheless, I blew out a breath, pulled my glove off, and thought, Show me what I need to know to find your killer. I didn't like seeing the parts of people's lives that shouldn't have been open to me. With that thought in mind, I touched a finger to the side of her foot.