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“If you’re so sure you’re going to fail, why even bother?” He stood and picked up the workbook, dropped it onto the others with a thud.
    I sighed and tugged a hand through my hair. “Okay, okay. I’m not sure I’m gonna fail. I’m just…” I winced. “I don’t do well on tests like that.”
    He wasn’t appeased. “Well, shit. So far, you’ve told me you’re not ready, you’re going to fail, and you don’t do well on tests like this. From what I’ve seen, you were close to ready a week ago, you were within a few points of passing the practice test, and you did perfectly fine taking that one. If you’re not careful, you’ll talk yourself into being a living, breathing, self-fulfilling prophecy.”
    The words hung in the air of the morgue. Nick had gone from being a pain in my ass and a pompous jerk to being someone I could actually confess my insecurities to. We weren’t quite
friends
—at least not the sort of friend I’d hang out or see a movie with—but I trusted him, and I knew he had my back. It was almost as if he’d decided that since I wasn’t a threat to any of his own ambitions, he was going to do his best to help me with my own. And I liked to think that his association with me helped “unprickify” him a bit, which might even have helped him finally score his recent promotion to death investigator.
    “I’m scared,” I admitted, dropping my head into my hands. “I’ve worked really hard to not be such a damn loser anymore, y’know?”
    Nick moved behind me. A couple of seconds later I felt his hand on my shoulder in an almost hesitant touch. “You don’t need to be scared, Angel,” he urged. “You don’t have to do this for anyone but yourself anymore.Worst thing that can happen, the absolute
worst,
is that you’ll need to retest.” He gave my shoulder a light squeeze. “Compare that to all the other bad shit that can happen in one day, and maybe it won’t be so scary after all.”
    I turned my head to look up at him, gave him a smile. “You’re right. Thanks.” I knew all too well how much bad shit could happen in one day, and failing a test wasn’t even on the same scale. “It’s really not the end of the world if I fail.”
    “Nope, it’s not.” Then he put on a grumpy expression. “Except that you’d have to spend that much more time with me. That should be motivation enough to pass.”
    I laughed and gave a mock shudder. “Oh, god help me!”
    “Yep, you’re in trouble.” Then he cleared his throat and lifted his hand from my shoulder as if he’d suddenly remembered he was maintaining the contact. “Enough moaning. I’ve got work to do.”
    “Yeah, moved up in the world from bodysnatcher to big bad investigator,” I said with a smile.
    “It’s about damn time they recognized my worth,” he said, only half kidding as he headed out and back to the main building.
    I rolled my eyes and bent my head to continue studying.
    About half an hour later Allen Prejean, Chief Investigator for the St. Edwards Parish Sheriff’s Office, walked past the door of the office, gave me a sour look and made a point of checking his watch as he passed. Scowling, I deliberately waited another minute before putting all my books away. I still had three minutes before my shift technically started. I wasn’t stupid enough to do my tutoring and studying on company time. Or rather, I wasn’t stupid enough to do so in front of Allen. I studied in the van or in the morgue late at night all the damn time.
    Allen had worked for the coroner, Dr. Duplessis, for close to fifteen years, long before Duplessis was elected. As a former paramedic who was studying to be a physician’s assistant, he’d supposedly already been offered a position with Dr. Duplessis’s private cardiology practice once he graduated, and that day couldn’t come soon enough for me. Allen certainly knew his stuff when it came to death investigation, and he ran the office well enough. But he was also a