board of supervisors.” Bree lowered her voice further. “And an autopsy.”
“Ugh. Politicians.” Dana clearly thought the meeting would be worse than attending the autopsy.
“Right?” Bree agreed. “But I have to play nice. This is about the budget, and I need money.”
“Even worse.” Dana waved a hand. “I’ll hang with Kayla. No worries. All I had on my schedule was a spin class. I’ll go for a run later. Kayla can ride her bike with me.”
“Thank you. I’ll try to come home on time.” Bree had a whole new appreciation for working mothers. “Unless this new case turns out to be more than a suicide.”
Dana said, “She needs to learn to adjust to you not being here occasionally. You’re almost always here in the evenings.”
“I know, but I don’t have to like it.” Bree went into the living room and crouched in front of Kayla, who was snuggling with her pig and Ladybug on the sofa. A cartoon played on the TV.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I have to go to work.” Bree kissed her head.
“Is it something bad?” Kayla’s eyes went wide.
“No, of course not,” Bree said quickly. “I have a very boring budget meeting today. But I’m the boss, and people need me to make decisions.” She kissed her niece again. “I love you. I’ll see you later.”
Guilt tugged at her heart as she left the house and closed the door. She was halfway across the lawn when her cell phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen. Nick West, a local reporter. No doubt he was calling about the body.
Bree answered the call. “Hello, Nick. How can I help you?”
“I heard you pulled a body out of the river last night. I’m putting the story on our social media and online edition shortly. Is there anything you would like to say?”
“The sheriff’s department is investigating the death.” Bree climbed into her SUV.
“Can’t you do better than that?” Nick sounded disappointed. “Can you confirm the victim’s name is Holly Thorpe? Did she jump off the bridge?”
“Sorry, Nick. The truth is, we don’t know yet. The medical examiner hasn’t declared a cause of death.” Bree cleared her throat. “Last night, the sheriff’s department received a report of an abandoned vehicle near the bridge at Dead Horse Road. A search of the immediate area resulted in the discovery of the body of a woman in the river. The cause of death is unknown at this time. The sheriff’s department is investigating. Is that better?”
“A little,” Nick said without enthusiasm. “I assume the autopsy will be today. Can I call you later for more information?”
“You can call, but I can’t guarantee what I’ll be able to share.” Bree started the engine.
“OK.” Nick sighed and ended the call.
Bree drove to the sheriff’s station on autopilot. Her administrative assistant, Marge, met her in her office with a huge cup of coffee. About sixty, Marge had been with the sheriff’s department longer than anyone else. She knew everything about everyone.
“Thanks, Marge.”
“You’re welcome.” Marge looked like everyone’s grandma. But her soft exterior covered an iron will and a mind sharp enough to cut through bullshit like a hot scalpel through butter. “The county commissioners canceled your meeting.”
Son of a . . .
“Did they give a reason?” Bree asked.
“No. They just asked to reschedule.”
“Again.”
“Yes, again,” Marge agreed. “If they keep putting you off, they don’t have to make a decision.”
Frustrated, Bree turned to her computer to type up her reports from last night’s call. On the bright side, now she had time to prepare for Holly Thorpe’s autopsy.
CHAPTER SIX
Ten minutes before one o’clock, Matt parked in front of the medical examiner’s building. In the next space, Bree was stepping out of her SUV. Despite the grim reason for today’s meeting, he was still happy to see her.
He joined her on the sidewalk and stifled the urge to kiss her hello.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Yes,” he lied. He would never get used to seeing a human being sliced open like a fish being cleaned. Oddly, looking at the body in the morgue was worse for Matt than viewing it at the crime scene. At the scene, there were often signs of passion, rage, or other motivations that had led to the person’s death. The corpse was a person who’d had a life until something cut it short. With the violence of the crime on display, Matt would experience sadness, anger, or frustration. The morgue’s cold sterility made the victim seem less than human.
He took one final breath of clean spring air as if