Page 9 of Off the Hook

“And you leftheralone all these years, until two days before she died?” She cocked her head, locking me with her steely blue gaze.

“I can see why that might look suspicious, but yes, that’s the truth,” I said, studying her face to see if I could read it through the hardened mask. “You don’t think Kylie’s death was an accident, do you?”

“It would do her a disservice to not to be certain,” she said, glancing up at the clock on the wall.

“I couldn't agree more.”

The detective shuffled the papers back into the folder. “Thank you, Mr. Rodman. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else. That’s all for now.”

I tried to make light of Waylan’s antics as I stood. “He wouldn’t have called a lawyer.”

Her cute little lips pursed and drew to one side. “You know him better than I do,” she gestured to the door, “I’m sure Kylie’s family appreciates your cooperation in the investigation. Hopefully we didn’t inconvenience you too much and you’re still able to enjoy the holiday withyourfamily.”

I stepped around her in the hallway and started toward the station entrance, calling over my shoulder, “Yeah, Merry fucking Christmas, Detective.”

CHAPTER 5

FAITH

Gnawing on the cap of my pen as I read through the case file, I grumbled at the lack of evidence, and my lack of caffeine. The sun had barely peaked over the horizon on my drive to work, rays of pink and orange beginning to stretch across the sky made me momentarily forget that mornings and I were not friends.

To prove I could work cases on my own, especially now that the Sheriff wasn’t on my side, I had to be smarter, stronger, faster, and better than any other detective on the force. And if that meant getting up at the crack of dawn the day after Christmas, and being the first day shift officer in the office, then that’s what I did.

God dammit I need more coffee.The crappy plastic pen cap cracked as I bit down too hard. I yawned again, the minute hand on the clock ticking over to point straight up. Eight AM. I could finally call the coroner.

A grumbled “Jeb Morrison,” crackled through the phone line, sounding scratchy and irritable. “Morning, Doc!” I chirped into the phone, my voice too bright for the hour.

“Detective Pierce,” he barked, the gruffness as bitter as my morning coffee. “I’m guessing you want the preliminary report on the Bennett girl?”

“You know me so well.” I leaned back, chomping harder on the cracked pen cap.

“You’re the only one that calls before I’ve even gotten my lab coat on.” The sound of said coat rustling in the background made me chuckle.

“You and I both know you do your best work at 3am,” I teased, propping my feet up on my desk, crossing them at the ankle.

“Damn straight, nobody is calling me then,” Jeb’s voice softened despite his grumbling.

I chuckled at the thought of him in the bayside office in Marathon, his white coat wrinkled, a garish tie knotted crookedly around his neck, and his salt-and-pepper hair standing straight up like he’d just rolled out of bed. “So what did you find, Doc?”

“I’ll be sending you the report shortly,” he sighed wearily. “Blood tests and DNA will be a little while, but it looks like blunt force trauma to the head.”

I sat straight up, my feet hitting the floor with a loud thud as I yanked the top off the pen with my teeth and started scribbling notes. “Blunt force? You think someone hit her?”

“She could have hit something with her head, or something could have hit her,” Doc replied. “The body can’t tell mewhich. All I can tell you is that her head collided with something, or vice versa, while she was still alive. There was extensive bleeding under the scalp.”

“Extensive enough to kill her?” I pressed, trying to picture the scenario.

“Not likely. There was no bleeding in the brain. But she had water in her lungs, so I’m listing the cause of death as drowning.”

I took a deep breath, collecting my thoughts. “Was the trauma sufficient to cause loss of consciousness?”

“Likely, I can’t tell for sure. She’d been in the water awhile. The tissue had deteriorated,” he answered, frustration seeping in.

“So she could have fallen, hit her head, and landed in the water where she drowned?”

“Possibly.” He remained noncommittal.

“Doc, you’re killing me,” I said, forcing a dry laugh to ease the tension in my voice. “What do youknowfrom the body?”

---