Cross Her Heart (Bree Taggert #1)(19)

Alone, Bree cupped her sister’s cheek. The skin was cold, lifeless under her palm. Bree did not lift the sheet. She did not examine the wound. She gave her sister the respect she deserved.

“I’ll do my best by the kids.” Bree started with the thing that was most important to her sister, then added, “And I will find out who did this to you.” She drew an X in the center of her own chest like they’d done when they were children. “Cross my heart.”





CHAPTER EIGHT

Matt had never met the new medical examiner. She was a recent hire to replace the former pathologist, who’d moved to Wyoming.

He leaned on the wall next to the door.

“Can I get you some water?” Dr. Jones offered.

“No, thanks.” Matt didn’t think he could swallow anything without it coming right back up. He’d seen dead bodies as a sheriff’s investigator, but he could still picture Erin alive and smiling.

And that made all the difference.

As an investigator, he’d tried his best to keep his personal life separate from his job. When you’d attended the victim’s wedding, that wasn’t possible.

The door opened, and Bree emerged. Her eyes were dry, devastated, and determined.

“Can I ask you some questions?” she asked the ME.

“Yes.” Dr. Jones led them back to her office. Matt and Bree sat in chairs facing the desk. An autopsy was treated as confidentially as other medical records. As next of kin, Bree was entitled to the results, but the official report wouldn’t be available for months.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Dr. Jones asked.

Bree nodded.

“All right.” The doctor leaned forward, resting on her forearms and giving Bree her full attention.

“She was killed by a single gunshot?” Bree asked.

“Yes. She sustained a penetrating cardiac injury,” Dr. Jones said. “Many gunshot wounds to the chest are survivable these days. Your sister was very unlucky. A 9mm bullet lacerated her coronary artery, causing massive hemorrhage. Blood loss would have been rapid.”

Matt pictured the lake of blood under Erin. She had lived long enough for a large volume of it to pump out of her body.

“Is there anything else of note in the preliminary report?” Bree asked, her voice strained.

“No. Other than the bullet wound, she was in overall good health.” The doctor frowned. “She had sex shortly before she died, but I found no evidence intercourse was not consensual. There were no significant bruises on the body. Her last meal was pizza, eaten an hour or two before her death.”

Bree’s face was as white and still as marble as she digested the information.

The ME set her clasped hands on her desk. “Why don’t you go home and process today? Call me if you have more questions, and I’ll call you if I get more information.”

Results of some reports, like toxicology screens, wouldn’t come back for weeks or months.

Bree nodded. “Thank you.”

Her voice was flat, seemingly emotionless, but Matt could see her struggling. Her hazel eyes were misty, the green deepening as sorrow flooded them. She swiped a single tear from her cheek with a trembling finger, then shoved her shaking hands into her coat pockets. Matt couldn’t imagine the shock, horror, and grief building in her. He felt like he was intruding on a moment that should be private. Her sister had been murdered, her life ended in a violent act. Bree should be allowed the space to cry in peace. In similar circumstances, Matt would be bawling.

The doctor ushered them to the door of her office. Matt followed Bree through the corridors until they emerged from the building. Outside, she stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds, her face turned to the cold wind. The open edges of her coat flapped, but she didn’t seem to notice the freezing temperature.

Matt opened the passenger door of his SUV. Bree climbed into the seat. He rounded the front of the vehicle and slid behind the wheel. He started the engine.

She turned toward the passenger window. “Why was my sister at Justin’s place?”

“I think your sister was there regularly.” Matt adjusted the heat vents to give Bree maximum airflow and turned on the passenger seat heater as he pulled out of the lot. “I noticed a few things in Justin’s bathroom while I was waiting for the deputies.”

“Like?”

“There was an extra toothbrush, a woman’s hairbrush, makeup, feminine hygiene products.” Matt turned onto the main road.

Bree’s brows knitted together. “Those could belong to any woman.”

“This is true. You don’t know which brands she used?”

Bree shook her head.

“Are you going to take the kids back to their house?” he asked, stopping at a traffic light.

“Yes. That’s where they want to go.”

“Then we can compare the brands in her bathroom to the ones in Justin’s.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” But Bree sounded distracted and exhausted. Maybe she’d had enough for the day. She’d exhibited unbelievable strength that day, but how much could one person handle?

Matt drove to her brother’s converted barn and parked.

She reached for the door handle. “Thank you for your help today.”

“Anytime.” Matt covered her hand and gave it a single, quick squeeze before releasing it. “I mean it. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”