The Dying Breath: A Forensic Mystery

Cameryn cried. “This conversation is over.”
    Lyric rubbed her hands together with glee. “No, I see it. I feel Justin’s vibe and it’s strong. He’s thinking of you right now!”
    As if on cue, Cameryn’s BlackBerry hummed in the pocket of her jeans. Her eyes widened as she realized it was Justin, calling during school. Odd , she thought . Tossing her hair back, she pressed her phone to her ear. “Hey, what’s going on?” Justin, she mouthed to Lyric, who responded with a thumbs-up.
    “Cammie, I need to know what the rest of your day looks like,” Justin said. His words were quick, sharp. “As in your schoolwork, I mean. Your pop says it’s okay as long as your schoolwork is cool. Is it?”
    “Yeah, I’m good. But what—”
    Justin cut her off. “It’s Dr. Moore. He wants you in the autopsy suite right now.”
    It took Cameryn a moment to register the information. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and she could barely think above the screeching of the metal legs against ancient linoleum as the room disgorged itself of students. Trays clattered one on top of another, bodies bumped in a line as leftovers were dumped through the revolving plastic lid.
    “Wait, Justin, if this is about Leather Ed, I’m not allowed to work the case.”
    “It’s not Leather Ed. This is . . . something else.”
    Lyric leaned close, the fabric of her peasant shirt drooping like orange wings. “I told you I felt his vibe,” she whispered into Cameryn’s free ear. “Who’s got the power?”
    Shaking her head, Cameryn frowned and held up her index finger. “So who died?” she asked.
    “I’m not sure. All I can tell you is that this whole thing is freakin’ weird. Dr. Moore says the inside of the first body is not like anything he’s ever seen before. He wants to wait to begin the second autopsy until you’re there.”
    Cameryn blinked. “Excuse me—did you say second autopsy?”
    Students shuffled past, their feet digging forward as they chewed on the last of their lunches, hurrying toward the exit. Cameryn’s whole mind focused on the word second . Two deaths. Two bodies, prepped to be dissected and reassembled like pieces of a puzzle.
    Justin paused and added, “This is the first time I’ve heard Moore ask for help.”
    That fact alone seemed impossible. Dr. Moore, the curmudgeon pathologist from Durango, stomped through his autopsy suite like an aging bull, barking orders at everyone within earshot. And yet he wanted Cameryn’s presence. She could feel her internal gears shifting as she flipped into her scientific mode. “Do you know the manner of death?”
    “No idea. These guys keeled over and dropped dead in some restaurant. Boom—they were gone. Moore told me to tell you that this case is ‘sensitive.’ That translates to: keep it under the radar for now.”
    Lyric pulled at the edge of Cameryn’s sleeve. “Cammie, what’s going on?” she asked, at the same time as Justin fired his next question.
    “So, are you in?”
    “Of course I’m in.” Then, to Lyric, she whispered, “It’s forensic stuff. I’ve got to go.”
    “I’m sorry, Cammie,” Justin apologized. “I was hoping to keep you away from the stressful stuff and this is definitely not what I had in mind.”
    “No worries.” She tried to ignore the way her stomach wobbled when she thought about spending time alone with Justin. It was better this way, having a focus. It made her less nervous.
    The last of the departing students whirled past like confetti, blurring in the edge of her periphery. “I’ll go to the front office and check myself out. Where are you now?” Cameryn asked. She slid out of her chair and onto her feet, stacking her tray neatly on top of Lyric’s.
    “I’m out in front. Hurry, Cameryn. I’m already waiting.”

Chapter Four

    “YOU READY FOR this?” Justin asked.
    “Yeah. Are you?” Cameryn replied. The two of them climbed the cement steps of the Durango Medical Examiner’s Building. She’d never entered by the front before. Instead she and her father, in their station wagon hearse, had always arrived via the garage. Now as she and Justin stood side by side she studied their reflection shimmering in the glass door. With a start she realized how much he towered over her—a good eleven inches separated the top of her head from his.
    I look so young, she thought. Her dark hair, which hung past her mid back, made her look every bit the teenager she was. The blue Land’s End