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window shades, revealing two dark holes.

    The eye sockets were empty.

Chapter Four

    “SO WHAT DO you make of the eyes, Pat?” Sheriff Jacobs asked.

    Patrick moved forward, peered closer, and then closer still. Straightening, he said, “Truthfully? I have no idea.”

    Cameryn nodded in silent agreement, the only motion she made that the others could see. Inside, she was reeling. Like her father she’d moved nearer, and now what she wanted most to do was move away again, as far away as she could go.

    The gel from inside Oakes’s eyes had mixed with blood, fusing into a substance that had exploded from both sockets. A starburst pattern of deep red stretched from his forehead all the way to his cheeks, and where the eyes had been were sockets that seemed filled with earth. With a start she realized the small, coin-shaped piece of brown clinging to the side of her teacher’s nose was in fact his iris. In that instant she fought the bile that rose from her stomach in a hot foam. She took a series of deep, short breaths and commanded herself, Think clinically . Leave all your emotion behind and stay professional. You’ve got a job to do, so do it.

    “You okay, Cammie?” Sheriff Jacobs asked, and she thought there might be a hint of smugness in his voice. “You’re looking mighty pale there.”

    “I’m fine,” she answered. Because Jacobs wanted her to fail, in a strange way it braced her, shored her up. “It’s just so . . . bizarre. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

    “Well, neither have I, and I’ve been sheriff a lot longer than you’ve been assistant to the coroner. You think it’s some kind of weird medical condition, Pat?”

    “Maybe. I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.” His tongue made a clicking sound between his teeth. “I’ve heard of proptosis—”

    Sheriff Jacobs looked at him sharply. “English, please.”

    “Proptosis—a bulging of the eyeballs. There are a couple of conditions that can cause it, but to have an eyeball actually explode . . .” He shook his head and let out a small stream of air through his lips, continuing, “I have to say I’ve never heard of that. I’m at a complete loss, John. A complete loss.”

    “Dad,” Cameryn interrupted, suddenly remembering, “this may be way off, but I saw a dog this morning—it was on the side of the road, and it didn’t have any eyes, either. It looked just like this. Do you think there could be a connection?”

    “Nah,” Sheriff Jacobs interjected, “my deputy told me the same thing. One’s got nothing to do with the other.”

    Already prepared for the sheriff to blow her off, Cameryn asked, “What do you think, Dad?”

    Her father’s eyes half-closed as he considered it. “John’s right. A dead dog left outside is bait for predators and they’ll chew up remains in a matter of hours, and the eyes are always the first thing to go. But there are no predators here—inside this bedroom, I mean. Look, all the windows are shut and there’s no way in or out. Scavengers didn’t have access to this body, unless . . .” Patrick turned to the sheriff, who was busy scratching notes on a pad. “Wait a second—Oakes’s dog was found outside, right?” he asked.

    “Yep.” Jacobs pointed the tip of his pen toward the window. “I know that dog—he’s a spaniel named Rudy. The dog’s locked up out back, just like we found him.”

    Cameryn understood why her father was asking. From her books she knew a gruesome fact: Pets, especially dogs, sometimes chewed on their master’s remains shortly after the human’s death. Her father sometimes joked that pet owners should learn to die facedown. A dog could have easily done this.

    Now Patrick said, “And you’re sure Kyle didn’t fence the dog himself after he got here?”

    “Positive. Rudy’s not the cause of this mess. God only knows what is.”

    As the two of them spoke, Cameryn leaned closer to the body once again until she was standing just inches