Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Hey,” Brock said, looking up. “I hope it’s okay we took over your office.”
May wished she’d thought to grab a protein bar before sending Nancy home. Her stomach felt hollow and tight at the same time. “Of course.” She knew they were there to keep an eye on her safety, and she appreciated the concern.
“So the murders are here and here,” Ophelia said, pointing to a large map they’d laid across the desk. “Access points are from here, here, and here.”
Colored pins dotted the paper. The map made it look almost logical. Almost solvable.
“Did you guys find anything?” May needed good news.
“No,” Brock growled, glancing up. His green eyes were darker than usual, shadows sitting beneath them. There was no doubt he and Ace were brothers, as their bone structure was so similar. “Sounds like the flu’s going around.”
“Yeah, you two should take your vitamins,” May said automatically. “Get some sleep so you don’t catch it.” Her body felt wrung out. She wasn’t sure sleep would come even if she tried.
Ophelia looked up and studied her carefully. “Are you doing okay, May?”
“I’m fine,” May said.
“Right,” Ophelia replied gently. “I’m really sorry you had to go identify Ivy.”
“Me too.” May looked at Brock. “Any news on Ace?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Daisy’s still trying to get him a hearing today so he doesn’t have to sit in jail overnight, but the troopers pretty much told me to get the hell out of the building. So I did. We’re running our own investigation.”
“Ace wouldn’t kill anybody,” May said. The certainty of it lived in her bones.
“We know that,” Ophelia added. “The problem is he was the last person to see Ivy alive.”
“Except for the killer,” May said quietly.
Brock reached for a pen to make a notation. “Totally agree.”
“What about the Thompson brothers?” May asked. “They partied with Laura and they partied with Ivy.”
“Yeah. Mick and his brothers seem good-natured, but they’re on my list.” Brock shifted papers aside and pulled out a legal notepad. “Half the town’s on this list, except for the ones we know have solid alibis.”
The weight of that pressed down on her. Half the town. It meant suspicion hanging in every grocery aisle, every church pew, every boat on the river.
May swallowed hard. The front door jingled. Her chin dropped. “More flu cases, I’m sure,” she sighed. “Let me know if you hear about Ace.”
“You’ve got it,” Brock said, already bending back over the map.
May walked down the long hallway into the reception area. It was empty. The overhead lights hummed. The front door stood closed. That was weird. She knew she’d heard the bell. A couple dots of blood on the floor caught her eye. What in the world?
She turned and retraced her steps. The door to the first examination room was closed. It shouldn’t be. She glanced down the hallway toward her office, reached for the knob, and twisted it open. Then she poked her head inside, ready to yell for help. She stilled. “Holy crap. Nixi?”
“Hi.” Nixi sat on the exam table, one hand pressed against her right rib cage. Blood seeped steadily between her fingers, dark and arterial-bright where it hit the overhead light.
What in the actual heck? May slipped inside and shut the door behind her, locking it automatically. “What happened?”
“Um, I need help.” Nixi lay back on the papered table, her breath shallow. She wore a bloody blue T-shirt and shorts. “Can you stitch me?”
May’s pulse jumped, but her training took over. “Are you Nixi or Stella, by the way?” The woman had pretended to be an influencer with the name of Nixi before being revealed to be Stella, Damian’s wife. May crossed to the sink and snapped on latex gloves. “Lift your hand.”
“Stella. My name is actually Stella, which you obviously already know.” She hesitated and then lifted her shirt.
May sat on her rolling stool and brought her tray with her, studying the injury. The wound was a horizontal laceration just below the eighth rib on the right side, about three inches long, gaping slightly. “What happened to you?” May reached for sterile gauze.
“Would you believe a wild boar got me?”
“I would not,” May said dryly. “This is going to pinch,” she said, drawing up 1% lidocaine with epinephrine into a smaller syringe. “I’m going to numb you.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Stella flinched but didn’t pull away.
May went to work. “I like this hair color on you.”
“Thanks.” Stella had thick brown hair this time instead of spiked colors of pink and purple. Her blue eyes were the same, deep and dark, but those could be contacts.
May focused. “You’re not really brunette, are you?”
“I’m whatever I want to be.”
That was a decent answer. May waited thirty seconds, then tested the area with the tip of a forceps. “Feel that?”
“Pressure.”
May examined Stella again. “Good.” The laceration tracked across the intercostal muscles but didn’t appear to penetrate the pleural cavity. “You’re lucky you didn’t nick a lung.”