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“Plus, I don’t know of any celebrities who live in Durango.”
    “There’s some festival going on in Telluride—I think it’s the TelluVision Showcase, or something like that. Telluride’s only a couple of hours away. But . . . aren’t you the one who said the case was time sensitive?”
    “What?”
    “You’re loitering.” He grinned at her in a way that made heat creep up her face. “You chewed out poor Amber and now you’re the one standing in the hallway. I could write you up for that.”
    “You are such a punk.” Walking quickly, she charged ahead of him to the autopsy room, but before she could push through he grabbed her hand.
    “I could let you off for good behavior,” he teased. “All you have to do is—”
    But whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a low rumble coming from inside the autopsy suite. “Miss Mahoney, Deputy Crowley—enough with the happy chatter. Get in here. Now !” The voice belonged to Dr. Moore. His tone was even more cantankerous than usual.
    “I’ll review your case later,” Justin whispered as he thrust open the door.
    The room was large, as big as five of her classrooms, with gleaming chrome and lights that droned like insects in a swamp. The floor, laid with green and white tile, had been scrubbed so often the shine had dulled. Cameryn knew that at times bodies leaked fluid through their body bags to leave trails across the floor. As always the odor was stronger in here, the last traces of life still discernible beneath the fumes of bleach. Huddled around an autopsy table were Dr. Moore; his assistant, Ben; Sheriff Jacobs; and Cameryn’s father, Patrick. They all turned to stare as Cameryn and Justin entered the room.
    “Well, I’m glad you two finally made it,” her father said. Patrick’s eyes seemed to linger on Justin a brief moment before flicking away. It was hard to discern what he was thinking because the mask made his expression inscrutable.
    “This case will require your full concentration,” said Dr. Moore. The doctor, still bent over the body, wore thick gloves and a heavy plastic apron over pale scrubs. His morgue shoes, a pair of black high-tops with Velcro instead of laces, were shiny with blood. Half-moon reading glasses perched on the bridge of his paper mask, magnifying his eyes so that they seemed owl-like; a ring of white hair haloed his balding head. Lately, Cameryn had seen a difference in him. His bullfrog neck had thinned, while his round, apple-shaped torso had diminished so that it resembled a deflated ball. But the voice sounded as petulant as ever.
    “Grab the clipboard next to the histology samples, Deputy. I’m going to need everyone on this.”
    “Yes, sir,” Justin said as he quickly moved toward a set of cupboards located by the walk-in refrigerator.
    “And now for you.” Dr. Moore lasered in on Cameryn. “The sheriff has brought me up to speed concerning your shenanigans at Leather Ed’s. I’m surprised. I pegged you as an intelligent girl.”
    “Woman,” she corrected automatically under her breath. She flushed when she realized the doctor had heard her.
    Moore bit off each word. “Not. Yet.”
    She felt the full heat of the doctor’s gaze, and as much as she wanted to cringe away, she knew she could not. Although she had learned to like Dr. Moore she also understood he would steamroll over anyone who let him. Carefully arranging her face so that it conveyed strength, rather than the panic she was actually feeling, she said, “I already told the sheriff I was sorry.”
    “Water under the bridge,” Jacobs answered, clearing his throat. He shifted uncomfortably. “Let’s move on. We got other fish to fry.”
    “Yeah, give Cammie a break,” Ben jumped in. A diener, Ben assisted Dr. Moore in the most difficult aspects of the forensic job. Every corpse was gently washed by Ben, its skin stitched with sutures so wide they looked like the teeth of a zipper. Organs were dipped in water before dissection,