Page 33 of Montana Manhunt

Noah wrapped his arm around Violet’s waist as they trailed the medical examiner down a long hall with utilitarian tiled floors and neutral paint.

The doctor stopped in front of a door labeled Viewing Room 4. Royce opened the door to a small room with a long curtained window. Inside the room were several chairs, a round table off to the side, and an intercom on the wall.

Royce gestured to the intercom and curtains. “Pull the curtains aside when you’re ready, Ms. Trevelyan. Take your time. When you’re ready to leave, use the intercom to let us know. Do you have questions for me?”

“I’m a paramedic so you can be straight with me, Dr. Royce.”

His eyebrows shot up. “All right. What are your questions?”

“How did Cami die?”

“She was stabbed seven times. The last wound pierced her heart.”

“Was she sexually assaulted?”

“I saw no sign of that.”

Violet sighed and leaned harder against Noah. “All right. Thanks.”

“Give me a minute, then open the curtain when you’re ready. There’s no hurry.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Noah tucked Violet against his chest as Dr. Royce left the room. He held her in silence until Violet’s tears stopped.

She eased back to look up at him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cry all over you. Again.”

Her tear-streaked cheeks gutted him. Noah swiped the tears from her face. “I’m here for whatever you need, Violet. I wish I could ease the pain you’re in.”

A ghost of a smile curved her lips. “You can’t. No one can. But I appreciate the sentiment.” Violet glanced at the curtained window. “It’s time to open the curtain.”

“You heard the doc. Take your time. This is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do.”

“How often have you said the same thing to other family members?”

“Too often. I’ll tell you what I tell them. The dead can wait. Take care of yourself first. If you’re not ready, wait until you are.”

“I’ll never be ready. I don’t want to see Cami on a slab. My sister should be living and enjoying her life. This isn’t fair. I’m the one with the high-risk job. It should be me on a cold steel table, not my gentle twin.” She squared her shoulders. “So let’s do this and get out of here. I want to go to her apartment and talk to her neighbors.”

“Do you want me to wait outside in the hall?”

Violet shook her head. “I need you with me.”

“All right.” Noah walked to the window with her. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she murmured. “Do it.”

After wrapping one arm around Violet’s waist, Noah pushed the button to open the curtain.

As the curtains parted, Violet gasped and pressed closer to the window. On the gurney lay a woman who was a mirror image of her. “Cami.” Her voice broke. “I had hoped someone made a mistake, that my sister was still alive.”

Noah tucked Violet against his side. He’d lost count of how many times loved ones had said the same thing to him. “Tell me something good that happened to you and your sister.”

She was silent a moment, then said, “When we were five, Mom and Dad took us to a ranch on the outskirts of town. They’d arranged for us to go on a trail ride for our birthday.” She smiled. “I know now the two horses were old and slow mares, but they were the best horses in the world to us. Beautiful and gentle, both horses were dappled gray. We thought they would win awards for their beauty. The kind trail hands who took us on the ride must have thought we were silly. But neither one contradicted us.”

“How long was the ride?”

“Two hours.” Violet rested her head against his shoulder. “The best two hours of our young lives. From that point on, both of us rode horses whenever we could. We plastered horse posters all over our room.”

Her smiled faded. “The dream of owning our own horses died along with our parents. Aunt Rosalie refused to waste money on riding lessons or even on trail rides. She also refused to let us put up anything on the walls of our room. She didn’t want the paint marred.”

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