Page 31 of Caught in His Sights

“No, you won’t. My work is too important to me.” A message catches my eye from my contact at the local morgue, and my pulse quickens.

I click on it and suck in a sharp breath.

“Oliver?” Noticing my tense muscles, Caleb leans over me. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s a John Doe.” My heart pounds hard as I scan the text. “A body came in that matches Dylan’s description.”

10

My stomach twists as Caleb pulls up to the back of the hospital near the morgue.

The heavy metal door brings with it a rush of anxiety, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my pant legs. Despite the number of times I’ve walked through that cold, gray entrance, it never gets easier.

Caleb parks and turns toward me, his expression tense. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” I reach for the door handle, gripping it tightly. “I’ll be safe inside the building, right?”

He nods. “There’s no way for your hitman to have known you’d come today.”

I give him a weak smile. “Aren’t you my hitman?”

The joke isn’t funny, and he ignores it. “I’ll be waiting for you when you come out.”

“Thanks.” I step out of the car and into the blinding sunlight.

As I head toward the entrance, I feel Caleb watching me, and my spine straightens, my shoulders pulling back. It’s been a while since anyone cared what happened to me, and knowing he’ll be here when I come back out lends me strength to open the heavy metal door.

Inside, I head down a series of sterile white hallways to the security desk outside the morgue, where the orderly greets me by name and passes over a visitor badge without asking for proof of identity.

“You know the way back.” He buzzes me through the door behind him. “I’ll alert Carter that you’re here.”

“Thank you.” I follow the bright line of fluorescent lights to the door at the back.

With a knock as a warning, I enter. My stomach churns at the sight of the empty metal table at the center of the room before my attention shifts to the wall of refrigerator doors.

“Ah, Oliver!” A middle-aged man bustles from a small office at the back. “You got here fast, as usual.”

“Hello, Dr. Carter.” I walk forward, meeting the man at the lockers.

“Here we are.” He opens one and pulls out the sliding drawer inside, revealing a body draped in a crisp white sheet. “Ready?”

My pulse quickens, and I take a deep breath, bracing for the worst as I nod.

Carter peels back the cover to reveal a young face surrounded by dark hair. I take in the features of the lifeless boy and relief washes over me, followed by an undeniable disappointment.

It’s not Dylan.

However, I recognize the face from the flier posted at the local market.

Dr. Carter studies my expression. “You know him.”

“Yes, but he’s not my brother.” Hands trembling, I reach for my phone only to remember that Caleb kept it. I look at Dr. Carter. “It appears I misplaced my cell. Can I borrow yours for a moment?”

“Sure.” He pulls it from his lab coat, unlocks the screen, and hands it over. “I hope you didn’t lose it.”

“No, it’s somewhere at home.” I pull up my VanishingVoice blog, glad that I added the missing person’s poster from the market to my site. “Here you go. This is him.”

“Ah, right you are.” He shakes his head in amazement. “You’re always such a help. Far more than the missing person’s department who take months to get back to me, if they ever do.”

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