Who was the new arrival? Man or woman?
She flipped the page, looking for answers. Male. Chris Patterson. A case number was logged in beneath his name, which meant law enforcement was involved. He’d been brought straight from prison...all the way from California.
What was he in prison for? Was he a killer? A rapist?
Curious, she waited for her computer to boot up, then typed the man’s name into the search bar. She found three different Chris Pattersons doing time at San Quentin. No pictures, but they were all incredibly violent men. A shiver coursed over her.
And then curiosity got the best of her.
She grabbed the keys from the wall hook and headed for the refrigerated room. When she opened the door, cold air and the usual funky smell associated with dead corpses whooshed over her. There he was—the new arrival—in the middle of the room, lying atop a steel table with a lightweight cotton sheet draped over the length of him.
Why would Mr. Keener bother to remove the body from the body bag and then simply toss it in the corner?
Highly unusual, she thought, as the heavy steel door clicked shut behind her.
Without the music or the sound of Mr. Keener puttering around, the place was eerily quiet. The light thump of her shoes echoed off the walls as she walked across the cement floor to the table holding the corpse.
One look and then she’d go.
Mr. Keener had left no instructions for her to do anything with the body. According to the chart, Chris Patterson’s family had requested that his body be brought to Vermont because they wanted to see him one last time before an autopsy was performed.
She slipped on a pair of latex gloves, then pulled the sheet down to his chest.
Her mouth dropped open.
Usually the corpses were as white as the sheet covering them, but this guy still had some color. His dark hair was wavy and a little on the long side, but also thick and shiny. His brows were also thick, and his lips full. The only flaw was the slightest crook to an otherwise perfect nose.
Her gaze roamed south.
She pulled the sheet a little lower, low enough to see strong pectorals and well-defined abs. No reason to be shy here. Seeing a naked corpse had never bothered her before. But at the moment she was feeling flushed and a little uncomfortable. Rigor mortis had obviously dissipated.
Again, she noticed the coloring of his skin.
Something wasn’t right.
Her gloved hand trailed down his arm. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist to feel for a pulse.
And that’s when the dead man grabbed her.
His body shot upward.
He pulled her close and just as she was about to scream, he clamped a hand over her mouth.
Chapter Three
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said close to her ear. “I’m going to let go of you. When I do, you’re going to calmly tell me if anyone else is inside the building. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
The minute he dropped his hand from her mouth, the high-pitched sound that came from her throat pierced his ears. He grabbed her again, repeated the process, but this time twisted her around just enough so he could make eye contact with her.
“You’re not dead!” she said beneath his hand.
He might have been freezing after spending a night in this place, but no, he wasn’t dead. “I’m very much alive,” he agreed.
Keeping one hand over her mouth, he used the other to reach inside her lab coat pocket, his hand going deep, rummaging to make sure she didn’t have a cell phone or a weapon.
She gasped beneath his palm.
Ignoring her, he took the keys he found there. “Is anyone else here?”
She nodded.
“How many?”
“Three,” she said, her voice muffled beneath his hand.
If she had said one person, he might have worried, but there was no way there were three others out there. The place was way too small to have more than a couple of employees working at a time. And he had yet to hear one noise since she had come inside the cold room. “Go ahead and scream,” he said as he released his hold on her and padded across the room toward the door.
There was an old wall phone mounted next to the door. He yanked it from the sheetrock, dropped it to the floor, then unlocked the door and peered into the front room.
Just as he thought. Nobody was there.
From where he stood, he could see through the open blinds covering the front window. One lone car sat in the parking lot. He needed to find some clothes and get out of here. A noise from behind prompted him to shut the door and turn back to face her.
She had a scalpel pointed at him and a determined expression on her face.
“Listen,” he said. “You don’t want to tangle with me. For the past eight years I’ve had nothing to do but dream about this day. There’s no way I’m letting you mess things up for me.”
“If you come near me, I’ll cut you,” she said. “I will.”
“I’m sure you would. What’s your name?”