Proof. Justine Davis

knew the autopsy had been done because there were no apparent reasons for the accident. She guessed that the officers suspected Rainy had been drunk or on something illegal.

      As if.

      Alex had the sudden thought that she herself had sometimes dismissed the claims of family and friends about their loved ones.

      In the lab, she let the fascination of the scientific process keep the reality of death at a safe distance. The fact that she was in the trace evidence department and dealt mostly with hair, fibers, paint, blood, glass and other things added to that buffer.

      When the evidence pointed strongly one way, sometimes you did have to go with the numbers, simply because you had nothing else to base a decision on. If the odds were high in one direction, it took a lot of solid evidence to counter them.

      And that was evidence they didn’t yet have for Rainy.

      “Yet” being the operative word there, she told herself, shoring up her determination.

      But she was going to have to tread very carefully. Those local authorities had also made it clear what they thought of her getting any more involved because of her personal relationship with the deceased.

      The deceased.

      That’s what Rainy was to the officials. All she was. Just another fatality case. Already death was stealing away Rainy’s identity, stealing away the essence of who and what she was. These people here, making these decisions, had never known the brilliant, beautiful, generous woman she’d been. The woman who by sheer force of personality had changed six young lives and touched countless others, and who would never have tolerated being referred to in such an impersonal manner.

      But Alex had known her. And loved her. And she’d be damned if she’d let anyone reduce Rainy to a case number, a statistic, just another nameless driver falling asleep at the wheel. There was more to this than that, much more. Her gut was screaming that there was, and she’d learned to trust it, whether in the lab or in life.

      The problem was, her gut feelings and what little strange evidence she had led to Athena Academy. And Alex wasn’t about to draw any attention to the school unless there was no choice. For now, the team name the Cassandras had chosen all those years ago would have an ironic significance—they were all feeling there was more to Rainy’s demise than the official determination of “accidental death,” yet, like the prophetess of old, they could get no one to believe them.

      As she waited for the security man to return with the mentioned chair, Alex retrieved the smock she’d hastily stuffed into the trash can just down the hall after calling in the intruder to security. There was a laundry cart standing unattended outside another door, and she ran down and stuffed the disguise into the soiled linens bag.

      By the time the security supervisor came back she was standing back where she’d been, looking as if she’d been there all the time. In addition to the chair, he carried a large clipboard with a stack of forms on it, so he’d clearly been truthful about settling in to do paperwork.

      She thanked him again, clasping his hand in hers, and told him she’d let him know as soon as arrangements were made to move Rainy. Then she headed quickly toward the elevators. It took her a few minutes to find a place at the hospital where she was both allowed to use her cell phone and able to get a signal. She ended up back at the main front doors, and even then she had to walk out from under the huge cement quadrangle-shaped portico that marked the entrance.

      It was just after 6:00 a.m., but she didn’t hesitate in dialing Kayla Ryan’s cell phone.

      She felt a strange sense of both familiarity and oddness as she made the call. There had been a time when she would have called her old Athena classmate anytime there was something bursting out of her that she simply had to talk about. But that closeness had disappeared a long time ago, and the chasm that had opened between them over Kayla’s affair with Mike Bridges, the cocky young officer who had fathered Kayla’s daughter and then deserted them both, had never quite healed.

      But none of that ancient history mattered now. The Cassandra promise had been invoked. Every one of them would live up to the promise, and they would all pull together as if the years since they’d left Athena Academy had never existed.

      Kayla answered on the first ring.

      “It’s Alex.” She wasted no time on preamble. “An intruder was in the morgue at the hospital. He was trying to do something to or with Rainy.”

      She heard Kayla suck in a breath, could imagine the change in her expression as she snapped into police mode. “Any idea who?”

      “No. Didn’t get a look at him at all. He was tall, in good shape. He was good, maybe a pro. Probably covered his tracks well. But I’m not even sure what he was going to do. I interrupted him just as he was…reaching for her.”

      She bit her lip. Hard. Tasted blood. Didn’t care. God, this hurt so much, to even think that the cold, lifeless body in a drawer was really, truly Rainy. Or at least all that was left of her in this world.

      “We’ve got to get her out of there and back on Athena turf,” Kayla said, with a briskness Alex guessed hid feelings similar to her own. Kayla had also voiced her own first choice; she’d feel much better when Rainy was out of the hands of strangers who didn’t know who they had, how special she was, that she was worth any effort.

      “Yes. To the morgue there in Athens, preferably,” Alex said, referring to the small town adjacent to the academy. On the map Athens was a continuation of the Phoenix sprawl, but in fact had grown up into a town of about five thousand as an adjunct to the academy, housing many of the staff and support services, and suppliers to the school.

      It was also Kayla’s jurisdiction.

      Kayla quickly picked up on her inference. “You want her there, not just to a mortuary?”

      “Exactly. I want her where we can have someone we know and trust take a closer look. This doctor’s good, but he’s not a coroner or an investigator. The county doesn’t have one, they have to borrow from the next county over, and they won’t do it unless they’re really suspicious.”

      “And they’re not,” Kayla said.

      “No. They’re already convinced it was just an accident, that she fell asleep.”

      “As if,” Kayla muttered, and Alex’s mouth quirked at the perfect repetition of her own response, even as she felt a qualm that she and this woman she had once been so close to had become so estranged. Kayla’s next words wiped all levity from her mind.

      “I was going to call you this morning. Your guy isn’t the first intruder. Someone was inside Rainy and Marshall’s house yesterday.” Kayla explained that the person had run and Kayla hadn’t gotten a look at him. Or her. “I also checked out Rainy’s car at the county forensics lab. The seat belt failed.”

      Alex sucked in a breath. “Any sign of tampering?”

      “None. What are the odds.” Her tone was grim.

      “We should move her today.”

      “I’ll make the arrangements with Marshall,” Kayla said.

      “How is he?” Alex asked. Then felt foolish. Rainy had been their friend but Marshall Carrington’s wife, so how did she think he was?

      “He’s…handling it,” Kayla said.

      Alex wasn’t sure what that meant, or what the odd note in Kayla’s voice indicated, but she didn’t have time to delve into extraneous details now.

      “Will he agree to move her?”

      “I think so. I’ll make the arrangements from here, and I’ll call you as soon as it’s done.”

      “Good.”

      “Listen, Alex…there’s something else that might play into this.”

      “What?”

      “Marshall