Kisscut

Tessa asked, "Was it good?"

"It was nice to feel something new," she said, thinking about the night before. "It was nice to stop feeling guilty for a while." As an afterthought, she added, "And scared."

"Over that missing girl?"

"Over everything," Sara said, not going into details. She made it a point not to talk about her work at the morgue with her family. This protected Sara as much as it protected them. There had to be a part of her life that wasn't overshadowed by death and violence. "It was nice to…"

"Have a screaming orgasm?"

Sara clicked her tongue, smiling. "It was pretty spectacular." She shook her head, because that wasn't right. "It was amazing. Totally-"

"Oh, shit," Tessa sat up, wiping her eyes. "Dad's coming."

Sara sat up, too, though she did not know why. It was not as if Eddie could send her to her room for sitting in the parking lot too long.

"Where's that auger?" he demanded, throwing open Sara's door. "What're you two talking about in here?" When he did not get an answer, he said, "Do you know how much gas you're wasting, sitting here with the engine ru

Sara laughed, and he popped her on the leg, asking, "What would your mama say if she saw that look on your face?"

Tessa answered, "Probably, 'It's about damn time.'"

They started giggling, and Eddie gave them both a sharp look before slamming the door closed and walking away.

The morgue was housed in the basement of the Grant Medical Center, and no matter how hot it got outside, it was always cool in the tiled subterranean rooms. Sara felt bumps come out on her skin as she walked back to her office.

"Hey, Dr. Linton," Carlos said in his soft, heavily accented voice. He was dressed in his usual green scrubs, and held a clipboard at an angle against his thick waist. Sara had hired Carlos six years ago, right out of high school. He was short for his age, and wore his hair cut in a bilevel, which did not do much for his round face. Carlos was efficient, though, and he never complained about having to do what amounted to shit work, literal and figurative. Sara could trust him in the morgue to take care of things and keep his mouth shut.

Sara managed a smile for him. "What's up?"

He handed her his clipboard, saying, "That Weaver kid is still here. What do you want me to do with her?"

Sara felt her heart sink as she thought of the baby. Dottie Weaver had no reason to claim the child since Sara had told her it was not Je

"Dr. Linton?" Carlos asked.

"I'm sorry," Sara apologized. "What did you say?"

"I asked what you wanted to do with the bodies."

Sara shook her head at the plural, thinking she had missed something. She looked down at the chart and saw that Je

"She's still here?" Sara asked.

Carlos nodded, tucking a hand into his hip.

"We haven't gotten a call from Brock?" she asked, referring to the funeral director in town.

"No, ma'am," he said.

Sara glanced back at the paperwork, as if that could offer an explanation. "We haven't heard from the mother?"

"We haven't heard from anybody."

"Let me make some phone calls," she told him, walking into her office.

Sara knew the number to Brock's Funeral Home by heart, and she dialed it into the phone, watching Carlos through the window. He was mopping the floor in slow, deliberate strokes, his back to her.

The phone was picked up on the first ring. "Brock's Funeral Home."

"Brock," Sara said, recognizing the man's voice. Dan Brock was Sara's age, and they had gone to school together from kindergarten on.

"Sara Linton," Brock said, genuine pleasure in his voice. "How you?"

"I'm great, Brock," she answered. "I hate to cut right down to business, but have you gotten a call on a Je

"The one what was shot last weekend?" he asked. "Sure haven't. Gotta say, I was expecting that call."

"Why is that?"

"Well, Dottie goes to my church," he told her. "I just assumed she'd call on me."

"Do you know her well?"

"Well enough to say hi to," he answered. "Plus, that little Je

Sara nodded, remembering that Brock directed the children's choir in his spare time. "Sara?" Brock prompted.

"Sorry," Sara told him, thinking she was too easily distracted lately. "Thanks for the information."

"It hasn't been in the paper, either."

"What's that?"

"The obituaries," Brock said, giving a self-deprecating chuckle. "Tools of the trade. We like to see who's doing who, if you know what I mean."

"And there's been no mention?"

"Nary a peep," he told her. "Maybe they sent her up North? I think that's where her daddy is."

"Still, it would've been in the paper, right?" Sara asked, playing dumb. Brock was generally discreet because of the business he was in, but she did not want to start rumors.

"Maybe," he said. "Or the church bulletin at least. I haven't seen it there, either." He paused, then said, "Heck, Sara, you know how some people are about death. They just don't want to admit it happened, especially with a kid involved. Maybe she handled it quietly just so she could get through it, you know?"

"You're right," Sara told him. "Anyway, thanks for the information."

"I hear Grace Patterson doesn't have much longer," he said, and she imagined business was slow if he was being so chatty. "That's go

"You know her, too?"

"She helped me with the choir before she took sick this last time. Wonderful woman."

"I've heard that."

"From what I've gathered, she's just eat up with the cancer," he said. "Those are always the hard ones." His voice had dropped, and he seemed genuinely upset. "Well, hell, Sara, you know what I'm talking about."

Sara did, and she understood his grief. She couldn't imagine having to do Dan Brock's job. He probably felt the same way about hers.

"Guess there's no word on the little girl yet?" he asked.

"No," Sara said. "Not that I know of."

"Jeffrey's a good man," he told her. "If anyone can find her, it's him."

Sara wanted to believe this, but with everything she had learned about the case lately, she wasn't too sure.

Brock lightened his tone. "You take care now," he said. "Best to your mama and them."

Sara wished him the same and hung up the phone. She pressed the button for a new line and called Jeffrey.

Chapter Fourteen

Lena tried not to make it too obvious that she was listening to Jeffrey's telephone conversation with Sara Linton. This was incredibly difficult to do, as they were both in the front seat of Jeffrey's car. Lena looked out the window, feigning a casualness she did not feel. Part of her was still struck by what had happened with Mark only hours before. Time would only tell if he would make it. Oxygen had been cut off to his brain for some time, and until he woke up from the coma, there was no way to predict how much damage had been done.

Lena glanced at Jeffrey as he told Sara what Mark had said about his relationship with Grace Patterson. Whatever Sara said in response was brief and to the point, because Jeffrey agreed with her immediately.

"I'll see you tonight," Jeffrey said, then replaced the phone in the cradle. He started in on Lena immediately. "I told you not to be alone with Mark," he said.

"I know," Lena responded, and started to tell him again why she had let Brad leave the trailer. He stopped her, holding up his hand.