Kansas City Christmas. Julie Miller
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sterility of the lab. Pausing only to turn off the colored lights on the miniature artificial Christmas tree she’d set on one of the stainless steel counters, she made a quick circle around the empty room, peeked in on John Doe in his drawer, then headed for the hallway door.
There, she turned off all the interior lights again and waited. If there was a short in one of the hall sconces that was going on and off and creating the illusion of shadows, it would be easy to spot from this vantage point. Wait for it. Wait for it. “Hmm. No problem with the lights.”
Checking that possibility off her list, she opened the door a crack and listened for sounds. No ding of the elevator’s bell, no whir of it rising on its cables and pulleys. No footsteps. Nothing beyond the endless whoosh from the heating vents, trying to warm up the common areas of the building to a more humane environment than the cooler temps used in the labs. So she was alone. Unwilling to give much credence to the ghost theory, Holly deduced that someone had walked past the door—twice—while she’d been on the phone with Eli. Someone who was lost because her lab, office and the autopsy room were the only destinations on this level. Yet no one had come in. Asked for directions. Shown up to ID the body in her morgue. So, who would be wandering through the basement at this time of night?
No one, apparently. It was probably the late hour that had her spooked. “Give it a rest, girl.”
Ignoring the twinge of annoyance that she couldn’t solve a simple mystery, Holly pulled the door shut behind her and jogged up the stairs to the first floor. The stairwell proved empty as well, and since she hadn’t heard the elevator moving, there was no sense looking there. She nodded to the guard manning the reception desk on her way to the locker rooms at the rear of the building. But the need to find an answer just wouldn’t go away.
Holly fisted her hands inside the pockets of her white coat and turned back to the guard. “Floyd? Did you see anyone going down to the basement? Within the last ten minutes or so?”
He looked up from the paper he was reading. “No, ma’am. No one’s been in or out the lobby for the past hour. The cleaning crew’s not set to come until one.”
“None of the guards were making rounds downstairs, were they?”
“Not that I know of. Is there a problem, Doctor?”
Holly shook her head and smiled. “I thought I saw someone down there, but no one checked in with me at my office.”
Floyd reached for his cap. “Would you like me to run down and sweep for an intruder?”
“No, no.” She waved him back to his seat. “There are only so many ways to get in or out of the basement, and if you didn’t see anyone on the elevator or the stairs…?”
He wrinkled up his forehead with an apology. “Not for the past hour, ma’am. Not until you came out that door just now.”
“Okay. Well, maybe I just imagined the company.” She didn’t quite believe that, but without any evidence or witnesses to the contrary, there was nothing to do but go home. “Good night, Floyd. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, ma’am.”
Once inside the locker room, Holly shed her lab coat and hung it inside her locker. Since she’d already traded her surgical blues for warm jeans and a turtleneck sweater after completing John Doe’s autopsy, changing for the drive home only meant bundling up for the winter weather outside. Pushing aside the gun and holster she wore on field calls, Holly pulled her tealgreen stocking cap and matching scarf from the top shelf.
Once she had her coat buttoned up, she turned on the blinking red nose of the Rudolph pin at her lapel. The gaudy reindeer jewelry was a testament to her late mother, who’d loved to decorate and celebrate the holidays in a big way. Her parents had been gone for fifteen years, her family fractured. But over the years, she’d grown closer to Eli and Jillian than they’d ever been as children. Now, instead of missing her parents, she paid homage to them by maintaining some of their happiest—and goofiest—traditions. Touching the pin and feeling a loving smile from somewhere in Heaven, Holly grabbed her purse and gloves and headed for the exit.
If she was lucky, the streets would be cleared, the traffic would be light and she could get home to her apartment and get some decent sleep before she had to report for work again in the morning.
She had just pulled one glove on when her cell phone rang. Surely Eli wasn’t calling for another round of how she and Jillian couldn’t survive without big brother in the house. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her phone. The same familiar word instead of a number stared back at her.
Unnamed.
“Okay, fella.” Breathing out a weary sigh, Holly opened the phone. “Hello?”
Nothing. But the connection was live. She could hear the faint hiss of shallow breathing in the background.
“Hey. I know you’re there. You have the wrong number. You need to stop calling me.” More silence. Not even so much as a suggestive or crude message if that was his intent. Just…someone listening. “Who is this?”
Click.
She jerked the phone from her ear as if the soft disconnect had been a zap of static electricity.
What the hell kind of psych game was this? Holly snapped the phone shut and dropped it into her purse as she pushed open the door to the main hallway. “Idiot.”
A blur of white lunged at her from around the corner. “Gotcha!”
Holly yelped, automatically punching at the man who’d startled her while her heart was already thumping in her chest. “Damn it, Rick!”
Guffaws of deep-pitched laughter faded into a wide toothy grin on Rick Temple’s clean-shaven face. “Oh, that one was priceless. If you could see your expression.” He rubbed at a spot on his shoulder. “But you’ve got a mean punch, Doc.”
Talk about idiots. How one man could know so much about forensic science and yet beans about interacting with people in a mature, normal way eluded her. “What are you, in junior high? Sorry about the bruise, but startling the crap out of me is not funny.”
“Depends on your perspective.”
Holly flashed a grin that was more of a sneer than sincere. “You’re a grown man. One of these days you’re going to have to start acting like one. These practical jokes are hard on my blood pressure.”
“Oh, but you make it too easy, lady. Walking around all serious, focused all the time. I’ve got to lighten you up.”
“Giving me gray hairs isn’t the kind of lightness I find amusing.”
“You’re not that old, Doc. You’ve got to start having some fun.” At least he had the decency to retrieve the glove she’d dropped. She knew him to be thirty-two years old, but the grin he still wore looked two decades younger as he handed over the glove. “Think of these little encounters as my way of keeping you on your toes.”
Did he think she wasn’t doing her job? The corrupted evidence files she’d been trying to re-create made her prickle a little more defensively than usual. Not for the first time, she wondered how much of Rick’s teasing was really a warped sense of humor and how much might be resentment that she’d gotten the supervisory job that they’d both applied for. It might be wise for her to remind him who was in charge. “You know, Rick, if you weren’t as good at your job as you are, I might have to write you up for your…personality quirks. If any of your jokes interfere with anyone’s ability to do their job…”
“Oh, good one, Doc. Flatter me and call me out, all in the same sentence.” He pulled back the front of his lab coat and shoved his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “I just wanted to catch you before you left and let you know that the preliminary report on that bullet I’m processing doesn’t look promising. I’ve been able to break it down into its components, and maybe even tell you how they’re decomposing so quickly.