Edge Of Darkness (Arrow's Edge MC #2) - Freya Barker Page 0,3
smell of death gets into everything. I know I’ll have to strip the moment I get home and get my clothes into the washer before I scrub myself in the shower. Even then, I’ll still be smelling death days from now.
The fact I don’t do well with death is a well-kept secret. I’m from a long line of law enforcement and my father and brothers would never have let me live it down if they knew.
Yes, everyone in my family is a cop. My grandpa had been, my father still is, and both my brothers are too. The only girl in the family, and the youngest, I grew up dreaming of becoming a cop as well. Mom supported that dream—she would’ve supported anything I set my mind to—but she passed away when I was thirteen. Dad and the boys, not so much. I had some hope when Dad remarried two years later, but Elsa was all about the ranch and never understood my ambitions.
I’d been a cop for close to ten years before the ribbing and ridiculing finally wore off, only to turn into anger and vitriol last year. Turns out, I handle taunting better than I handle outrage. Or dead bodies, for that matter.
“Not much left to identify him,” Ramirez points out.
There isn’t. His face is barely recognizable as such, and I immediately consider that someone had to be plenty pissed to inflict that kind of injury.
“Whoever killed him knew him, and didn’t particularly like him,” I point out.
“Understatement of the year…” Tony says, pulling a pen from his pocket to move aside the jacket the victim appears to be wearing. I suppress a shudder. “…seeing as this is a bullet hole in his chest. Overkill, if you ask me.”
I pull out my phone and do a quick online check.
“He died sometime in the past three weeks,” I announce.
“Where’d you get that?”
“That heat wave ended three weeks ago. Daytime temps have stayed pretty mild, but the nights have gotten pretty chilly. He’s wearing a coat, which tells me this happened at night or very early in the morning,” I clarify, walking around the body.
“I agree with that assessment,” a woman’s voice sounds behind us, making all three of us turn.
A gray-haired woman dressed in jeans and a blue windbreaker is looking down on us from the edge of the excavation.
“And you are?” VanDyken asks, an edge to his voice.
“Meredith Carter. Dr. Meredith Carter.”
Ah. Our new coroner is obviously a woman. Ramirez regroups quickly and holds out a hand to help her down into the hole. As she steps down, I notice her purple Doc Martens and I glance back up to her face. On closer examination, our new coroner is much younger than the gray hair implied.
“Tony Ramirez, and this is Lissie Bucco and Jay VanDyken, he was first on scene.”
“Perfect,” she says, pointing at the officer. “Then you can give me a hand.” She tosses a pair of latex gloves at him, dons a pair herself, and bends down over the body, not waiting to see if he follows suit or not.
Tony grins and comes to stand next to me, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Do you get the sense we’re witnessing some kind of power conflict here?”
“There does seem to be some tension,” I agree quietly. “Interesting.”
We stand there, quietly observing Dr. Carter as she has Jay roll the body over, when Tony breaks the silence.
“So how’s the new place working out?”
“Love it. I can cross the bridge and walk to the City Market in five minutes. It’s perfect.”
“I’m glad it’s working out. Getting along with your landlord?”
I turn and find his inquisitive eyes on me.
“Yeah. Hardly see him.”
Not face-to-face anyway. I’ve heard his bike and watched him drive off a few more times these past couple of weeks, but I haven’t actually spoken to him since he helped me move in. Maybe I should talk to him about that dripping faucet in the bathroom.
Then Tony surprises me when he says, “Probably best.”
Yuma
“I hope I didn’t drag you from something important.”
I look up at Lisa, who not only lives in unit twenty-three with her two grandchildren, but also works at the club. Last year when she arrived in Durango, she needed a job, and the club was in need of someone to take over for Momma, who was recovering from her injury. Momma never fully recovered and Lisa stayed on.
Right now she has a window with a crack in it, courtesy of her five-year-old granddaughter, Kiara, who