Page 4 of Done Dirty
“We should go,” Becca insisted.
“I’m getting my stuff,” she insisted. “And then I’m never setting foot in this place again. It can burn to the ground for all I care.”
“Paige—”
“I didn’t come here to go home empty handed. If you’re not comfortable wait in the hall.” Paige walked toward the bedroom. “The ring was my grandmother’s. It’s mine.”
The bedroom door was cracked open a few inches, just enough for a slice of shadow to fall across the carpet. Paige stopped there, her hand hovering over the knob. He was supposed to be at the studio, but some small, stupid part of her braced for the worst anyway.
“Paige?” Becca’s voice came from somewhere behind her.
She pushed the door the rest of the way open.
Then the light from the bathroom spilled across the floor, and her brain didn’t quite comprehend what she was seeing. Her knees locked, and she grabbed the doorframe with both hands to catch her balance.
Wade was on the floor near the foot of the bed. His eyes were open and blank, and blood had pooled like a dark lake beneath him. So much blood.
Becca appeared at her shoulder, looked past her, and clapped her hand over her mouth. She grabbed Paige’s arm hard enough to hurt.
“I don’t—” Paige started to say, shaking her head. But the words wouldn’t come.
“Come on,” Becca said. “We’ve got to get out of here.” She pulled Paige out of the bedroom and closed the door, the sight of Wade’s lifeless eyes disappearing from view.
“I’m gonna be sick,” Paige said, her face ashen.
“Do it in the hall,” Becca said, pushing her friend back the way they’d come. “Just take deep breaths.”
Paige’s back hit the wall in the hallway. Her legs gave way and she dropped to her knees.
“Dead,” she whispered. “He’s dead.”
“I know.” Becca had both hands on Paige’s face now, making her focus. Her eyes were wide but her voice was level. “I’m calling the police. It’s going to be okay.”
“I didn’t want him to die,” Paige said as the first tears fell. “But I wished for it. Does that make me a bad person?”
Becca didn’t answer. She just pulled out her phone and dialed for help.
CHAPTER ONE
I come from a long line of criminal masterminds, so when I say I know how to dispose of a body and leave no trace, I mean it.
I was currently having body disposal thoughts about Fred Wilhoit, my insurance adjuster. The only reason I’ve held off on killing him is because I really want him to suffer first. I think pregnancy has made me a sociopath.
My name is J.J. Graves, and I’m the coroner for King George County, Virginia. It’s a part-time job that somehow takes up most of my regular work week and weekends. Unfortunately, it’s also my only job at the moment, since my funeral home is nothing more than a pile of rubble and ash. I’ve been told by good old Fred that I can rebuild. If he ever gives me the money.
The good news is that Jack and I can commute to work every day since the county decided to pony up the money and renovate space at the sheriff’s office so I have a proper lab and autopsy suite. The bad news is there’s no ventilation in the ceiling or drains on my table. Everything is government issue, which means they paid ten times what it’s worth and it’s still crap.
“Maybe we could stop for donuts,” I said, as Jack turned off Catherine of Aragon onto Commonwealth toward the Towne Square.
He’d taken to going down side streets instead of passing by the funeral home—or what was left of it—every day. I’d burst into tears at the sight a couple weeks back, and I guess it traumatized him because we took a different route every day now. Pregnancy hormones were weird.
“You’ve already had breakfast. You can’t possibly want donuts.”
“Of course I want donuts,” I said. “Who would ever turn down a donut? And a granola bar hardly counts as breakfast.”
“You’re just trying to stall going to the lab,” he said with a grin. “You know you don’t have to go in. There are no bodies waiting for you.”
“I don’t like not having something to do,” I said. “Besides, I feel obligated. The county ponied up the money to make a space for me. I feel like I need to be there.”
