Cross Her Heart (Bree Taggert #1)(18)

She followed Matt outside and waited until she heard the deadbolt slide into place before she climbed into his SUV.

She could barely juggle the kids and their grief for a few hours. How would she help them get through Erin’s funeral? And what would happen afterward? Bree put the future out of her mind. This afternoon was going to be hard enough. She was going to have to deal with one task at a time. Unable to converse, she stared out the passenger window as he drove.

The medical examiner’s office was in the municipal complex, not far from the sheriff’s station. The ride was short, and she was nowhere near ready when they arrived.

But she doubted it was possible to prepare to view her sister’s body.

After climbing out of the SUV, she stood on the sidewalk for a few minutes, letting the chill sink into her bones.

Matt stepped out of his vehicle and stood next to her. “There’s no rush. Take all the time you need.”

Bree doubted an additional ten minutes would make any difference. “Let’s go.”

They went inside. Matt walked up to the reception counter and spoke to the woman behind it. Before Bree could blink, they were ushered into an office. It felt like time was speeding up, moving too quickly, out of her control.

An African American woman in clean black scrubs moved out from behind the desk. “I’m Dr. Serena Jones. I took care of your sister.”

Matt did the introductions, but Bree’s hearing sounded muffled.

Dr. Jones turned to face her. “You can see your sister on a monitor—”

“No.” Bree cut her off.

“I didn’t think you’d take that option, so I had your sister moved to a private room,” Dr. Jones said as if Erin were her patient instead of a corpse. “This way.”

The sense of impending doom grew heavier with each footstep down the tiled hallway. Bree kept her eyes on the back of Dr. Jones’s shirt. They went into a small room. In the center of the space, a sheet-covered body occupied a gurney. Dr. Jones walked around to the opposite side of the gurney and faced Bree over her sister’s body. Matt stayed at Bree’s side.

The doctor waited until Bree lifted her eyes to hers and nodded. Then Dr. Jones folded back the sheet to reveal only Erin’s face. She carefully smoothed the sheet above Erin’s collarbones, covering the wound that had killed her and the autopsy incision. Either Dr. Jones or her assistant had taken care to arrange Erin’s hair to cover the scalp incision.

Bree tried to block all the autopsies she’d witnessed. It served no purpose to imagine the insult that had been inflicted on her sister’s body. Erin wasn’t in there anymore. What lay on the table was just a shell. Organs had been removed and examined, then stuffed back into the body in a plastic bag. But as Bree stared down at her sister’s face, it didn’t feel as if that mattered. Erin’s eyes were closed, her face waxen and gray. Her cheekbones were sunken and stood out in sharp relief, as if her body had deflated when her soul left it. Until that moment, her death had felt abstract. Now reality and grief struck Bree like a full-body blow.

Once, when Bree had been a patrol officer, she’d been shot in the ribs. Her body armor had absorbed the bullet, but the impact had knocked the air from her lungs. Her legs had folded like an accordion ruler. The sight of her sister’s face felt like a similar punch.

Matt’s hand under her elbow saved her from hitting the floor. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and breathed through her mouth. She appreciated that neither Matt nor the ME said a word until she’d regained her balance.

“I know that you’re a homicide detective,” Dr. Jones said in a soft, low voice. “I’ll answer questions about your sister’s death. But I want you to let yourself be a human being first.”

As if Bree could have formed a coherent question.

She’d delivered death notifications. She’d escorted family members to the morgue. She’d held their hands during this exact instant. But the shock and power and overwhelming nature of the moment had been lost on her.

Until now.

Waves of grief, helplessness, and anger threatened to upend her balance again. Dr. Jones moved a chair from the corner and set it next to Bree.

Three breaths later, Bree recovered her voice, though it rasped as if she smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. “Tell me the truth. Did she go quickly?”

“Yes,” Dr. Jones said without hesitation. “She was unconscious within seconds and gone within a minute or so.”

She didn’t specify how many seconds, but if she had suffered, it hadn’t been for long. Bree thought of Erin lying on the floor, bleeding out, thinking of the children she’d never see again.

The kids would want to see her, and Bree would have to let them. As a child, she’d been denied the chance to say goodbye, and she still resented being shuttled to the side, being told to hush when she’d asked questions, being treated as if she were an afterthought rather than the focus of adult attention. She would not do that to Luke and Kayla. They could choose to see her or not.

“Could I have a moment alone with her?” she asked, glancing at the doctor, then Matt.

“Yes. Her body is ready to be released to the funeral home of your choice.” Dr. Jones walked toward the door. “We’ll be in the hall when you’re finished.”

“Take whatever time you need.” Matt followed the doctor from the room.