Page 27 of Tessa's Trust

“Thanks for calling, Bay,” Nick said. “I know your duty as the county coroner is to report to the police, but I appreciate the call this quickly. What do you have for me?”

“Well, I finished the autopsy on Rudy Brando about an hour ago and sent the information to Sheriff Franco. Do you want the medical jargon or just the straight results?”

“Give it to me straight,” Nick said. “I don’t need the medical crap.”

I appreciated that fact and held my breath as I waited to hear more about the victim found in my newly purchased basement.

Bay cleared his throat. “The victim died from a stab wound to the heart.” Bay sneezed twice before continuing. “It was one clean and fast strike, and the angle shows that either the killer was taller by quite a bit, or Brando was on his back, and the killer struck down—which is more likely. He died instantly.”

“Anything else of interest?” Nick asked.

I couldn’t help it; I started to tremble. Keeping casual about it, I held my hands out to the vents and let them warm from the heat.

“Not really,” Bay said. “I could tell you that he had shrimp for lunch, and based on the report from the crime scene techs, was killed right where you found him.”

Nick switched his headlights to lower beams to combat the storm. “What about time of death?”

“I can give you a three or four-hour spread, but that’s about it.”

I blinked. “Can’t you get more exact than that?”

“Who the hell’s there?” Bay snapped. “This is official. Well, kind of.”

“Oh, it’s Tessa Albertini,” Nick said. “Sorry. I should have told you she was in the car. But considering we found the deceased in her building, she’d have the information anyway.”

“Yeah, once she got a lawyer,” Bay sputtered. “But, anyway, I can only give you three or four hours—from around three to seven pm date of death. There’s no way to tell beyond that in this situation.”

My stomach lurched. I was definitely alone at my building for part of that time. Darn it.

“All right. Thanks, Bay,” Nick said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He clicked off.

I swallowed. “Doesn’t your Uncle Bay work in Timber City?”

“Yeah, he’s the coroner and medical examiner.” Nick slowed down as a truck passed.

“Why didn’t the coroner in Silverville conduct the autopsy?” I asked.

Nick glanced in the rearview mirror. The lights from the vehicle behind us were bright enough to reflect against the glass and illuminated his face, illustrating his sharp bone structure.

“Gem County doesn’t have a medical examiner or a forensic pathologist,” he said. “Coroners don’t even need to have a medical license.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I thought every county had a coroner who did autopsies.”

“No, we’re lucky in Timber City,” he admitted. “All northern Idaho counties used to send suspicious deaths to Spokane for autopsy. Uncle Bay changed that when he moved back to Idaho a decade ago after traveling the world in the service.”

Maybe I should take a class in civics at the community college. “Yet another thing I didn’t know.”

“That makes sense.” Nick grinned. “Most people don’t know that county coroners don’t usually conduct autopsies, so don’t feel bad. I only know because I deal with murder half the time. Or at least some of the time.”

I hadn’t really thought about it, but Nick’s job was actually dangerous.

The truck behind us got closer.

“What is that jerk doing?” Nick pulled into the right lane and slowed down. “He can pass me if he’s in such a hurry.”

I didn’t pay much attention. I was still trying to figure out why I thought every county in the world had a coroner who did autopsies. Maybe I’d been watching too many police procedurals on TV.

Nick’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He looked over his shoulder.

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