hands were propped stiffly on the glossy wood of the steering wheel as if it was holding her in place. She finally looked over at him. “That’s not how I wanted to live, you know? So being cheery, as you call it, being rockabilly, and being a damned good reporter is my way of keeping the dialogue open.”
“With whom?” he asked.
She blinked at him, then said, “With the world.”
Grif simply reached out and placed his palm against her cheek.
The transformation was instant. Her hands fell to her lap, an enormous smile bloomed on her face, and a blush sent color rushing to her cheeks. He’d never met anyone who laid her emotions bare more easily than Kit. It made him want to cover her up, mostly, though lately it had started making him feel naked. So, for them both, he drew her close, held her tight, and rested his lips atop hers. He kept her there until they both were steady again.
“Don’t worry,” Kit said, glancing back to the building where Mary Margaret was hiding. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s getting people to talk.”
As if on cue, her phone rang. Checking it, Kit smiled, then flashed him the number. Detective Dennis Carlisle’s photo flashed with it. “See?” she said cheerily, before answering it.
Grif just shook his head. Looks like they were headed to the dead house. Maybe, he mused, her communication powers extend to the deceased.
Then again, that was Grif’s beat.
The coroner’s office was housed in a building that was better-looking than most of its last-minute guests, though not by much. The brick face had clearly been laid decades earlier, though it’d been painted over so many times it looked like it was shedding its skin in the Vegas sunlight. The doors were steel, and the security guard inside had eyes of the same material. They didn’t warm even when Kit gifted him with her brightest smile.
However, he did let them pass. “Second door on the left,” he said, without emotion, and Kit mentally thanked Dennis for coming through yet again as they made their way down the peeling linoleum hall.
“Look,” she told Grif, who was back to being annoyed with her after leaving the Sierra Vista facility. “What does it hurt to ask a couple of questions?”
“Depends on who you’re questioning,” he muttered.
Kit knew he was just worried for her safety, but his tone made her want to hiss. “I seriously doubt the coroner will whack me for wanting to know what happened to some street kid in an abandoned home. But I’m so glad you’ve got my back. Just in case.”
Grif grunted, still annoyed, but held open the door to a small anterior room with the most uninspired desk she’d ever seen. A buzzer sounded behind the door opposite them, in what was likely the autopsy room. It opened a moment later, and in backed a man with fierce red hair, both too long and too short to be of any purported style. They’d obviously caught him in the middle of his work, because he was wearing scrubs, gloves, and a paper mask that cut deep indents into his flushed cheeks. His blue eyes stood out brightly against his skin, making him look wild.
“Sorry. My assistant went for coffee.” The words were wry, and Kit sympathized. Budget cuts all around. The paper was experiencing them, too.
“You the coroner?” Grif asked.
“Medical examiner.” The man stripped off a glove, held out a hand. “Dr. Charles Ott.”
Grif shoved his hands in his pockets. Kit merely brightened her smile.
Ott laughed. “They’re fresh. I’m just back from lunch.”
Kit couldn’t imagine downing a burger and then coming back to this job, but maybe that was what kept Ott so skinny. If the budget at the paper got cut too much, she might consider a career change. The autopsy room could be her key to being as svelte as Dita Von Teese.
“I’m Kit Craig,” she said, finally taking the hand, “and this is Griffin Shaw. I believe Detective Carlisle told you we were coming?”
“He did, but you should know that I prefer to work alone. Don’t like newshounds or detectives looking over my shoulder, you know?” He said it with a wink, but the words were clear enough. Don’t question my work.
“Of course,” Kit said.
The mask widened as the coroner smiled. It didn’t make him look any less crazed. “But then I got a load of the deceased and thought a little tit-for-tat might be in order.” He didn’t wait for them