The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery

Ed.”
    “No one’s sure if it was murder,” Cameryn corrected. “They won’t know what killed him until the autopsy.”
    “Ri-ight.” He drawled the word. His hands moved up his face until he stopped at his forehead, which he began to tap in a staccato rhythm. “So you got bounced from the case because of the note, which makes sense since you’re the subject of said document. That constitutes an obvious conflict of interest.”
    “Adam’s thinking of studying law,” Lyric whispered conspiratorially. “You should listen to him.”
    “And there are, like, six versions of the note floating around. Just out of curiosity, what did Kyle say?” He was trying to sound nonchalant, but Cameryn could sense by the way he leaned in that he was as excited to hear the details as everyone else. She was distracted as Tiffany and her pack of friends breezed by, their whispers trailing like a wake. Cameryn watched them and tried not to listen as her name bobbed softly along their waves. Their muted laughter sounded like water slapping the shoreline. “ You know she loves the attention . . . Kyle O’Neil . . . work with the dead, that’s what you get . . . freak.”
    “Come on, Cammie,” Adam pressed, “the hallways are buzzing with the news. This is big-time stuff—local girl gets stalked by deranged killer who leaves a love note etched in blood.”
    “It wasn’t in blood, it was ink,” Cameryn said woodenly. She picked up a French fry and pushed a mound of catsup to one side of her tray, trying to make her face look as though she hadn’t heard a word of the hushed conversation. But Lyric was way ahead of her.
    “Ignore them,” she said fiercely. Lyric’s eyes burned as she hissed, “They are idiots.”
    Adam looked up in surprise. His gaze bounced from Lyric to Cameryn to Lyric again. “Ignore who? Wait a minute, what am I missing here?”
    “Being a typical guy,” Lyric replied, “that would be everything.” She swelled in her orange peasant top, her red hair catching the light like flames. “Don’t let them get to you.”
    The other girls in her school—most of the students, Cameryn guessed—had always seen her as an outsider. She’d first been tainted by her high academic marks and then shunned for her love of forensics. When she’d become assistant to the coroner they began to call her the Angel of Death, cutting a swath around her in the hallways as if her passion was contagious. It was Kyle who had changed her spot in the teen hierarchy. For a blazing moment she’d ridden his coattails to popularity until she was finally acknowledged by Tiffany and company. Cameryn had almost believed the girls with the empty eyes would see her as more than a science geek. But after Kyle disappeared, their attention had, too. It was, as always, Lyric, Adam, and now Justin who stood by her. She would never again forget who her real friends were.
    “The note?” Adam prodded.
    Winter light poured through the cafeteria’s high windows, and through the glass Cameryn could see the flash of an airplane’s wing. The school’s yellow brick walls gave off sunny warmth as Cameryn retold the story. Resting his chin on his palm, Adam seemed mesmerized until the last syllable. “Wow,” he breathed. “How did your dad take all this?”
    “Exactly the way you’d expect. Now he tells me I can’t go anywhere except to school and to work. He needs to know where I am at every single exact second. Mammaw’s at the church lighting enough candles to burn the place down.” Attempting a smile, she added, “On the upside, Dad’s finally cool with Justin. I guess he likes the idea of me hanging out with a man who wears a gun. But, as I was just saying to Lyric”—she shot her friend a look—“I don’t know if I’m ready just yet.”
    “Wow,” Adam said again. “You’re talking about going out with Justin, like, officially?”
    “Well, yeah, that’s the general idea.”
    “But you’re only seventeen. Isn’t that illegal?” His eyebrows arched up into his pale, narrow forehead. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
    Cameryn gave an exaggerated shrug. “It’s not illegal, and anyway I’ll be eighteen soon. And I’m not even sure yet what I’m going to do. I’ve got Kyle to deal with.”
    “Besides, even if it was illegal,” Lyric added, “what would Justin do? Arrest himself?”
    Adam snickered as he buried his face in Lyric’s dyed hair.
    “All right, you two, enough!”