When Shadows Fall. J.T. Ellison

      7

      SAM’S CELL PHONE rang at 10:30 p.m. Fletcher. She extricated herself from Xander’s sleeping form to answer the call. There was still something weird about being naked with Xander and talking to Fletcher. She grabbed the blue cotton button-down Xander had been wearing earlier, snuggled into it and went into the bathroom so she wouldn’t wake him, though she’d learned that as light as he slept, only an actual emergency would rouse him. Years of military training. She wished she could follow suit.

      She shut the bathroom door, anyway. “Hey. You have news?”

      Fletcher sounded tired, a certain weariness in his tone she understood completely. “Yeah. Did I wake you? I know you go to bed early.”

      Some nights earlier than others.

      “No, I’m awake. You don’t sound like you’re getting any beauty sleep, though.”

      He laughed. “You know how it is. Things are popping, multiple cases, lots of craziness. Listen, I got a call back from the Lynchburg police. They say the dude, Timothy Savage, was a suicide. Took them a day to clear the air enough to retrieve the body. Detergent suicide isn’t deadly only for the victim, but for anyone else who might inhale it, accidentally or otherwise. It’s not a pretty death.”

      “I know. Hydrogen sulfide gas is quite lethal. I assume asphyxiation was the cause of death?”

      “I don’t know. They didn’t post him. It’s a small town, just a coroner on hand. They sent the chemicals in for testing, but he didn’t see the need for an autopsy. Apparently it was quite clear what had happened. There were warning signs on the windows, and a note, the whole shebang.”

      “Lazy of them. All they needed to do was send the body to Richmond. Where is Mr. Savage now?”

      “In the cooler at the mortician’s place.”

      “Damn. Damn, damn, damn.” She leaned against the sink, caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her dark hair was wild, sticking up all over, and her lips were swollen. She smoothed her hair down, thinking hard. Why had Timothy Savage drawn her into his mess?

      “Sam? You still there?”

      “Yes. My turn for show-and-tell. I had an interesting visitor tonight. Creepy lawyer from Lynchburg. Apparently Savage named me executrix of his estate, and demanded I do an autopsy on him. He left me a key, too, though I have no idea to what. This is getting weirder and weirder, Fletch.”

      “Are you going to do it?” He sounded intrigued.

      “No. No way. This is a job for the police, not me. I’ll recommend his body be sent to the OCME in Richmond, and ask my friend Meg Foreman to handle the case personally. But that’s as far as I go. I already declined the legal aspect. I just want to prep for my classes and get the semester under way.”

      “Don’t kid a kidder, Sam. You’re totally on the hook.”

      She looked herself in the eye. Spoke to the woman in the mirror, as much as to Fletcher. “I most certainly am not.”

      “Yeah, you are. Sleep on it. If you still don’t want to be involved in the morning, I’ll back off. But if you’re in, I’ll go with you down to Lynchburg. It won’t kill you to post the dude.”

      Permission granted, ma’am.

      She did have several days before the semester officially began and she’d have to be at the university full-time.

      Don’t be an idiot, Sam. This isn’t your problem. Don’t allow yourself to be drawn into someone else’s intrigue.

      But something was eating at her. Something that made her say, “Fletcher, do you really think there’s a case here? More than a loony coming out of the woodwork?”

      “Honestly? I don’t know, but it’s pretty clear someone wants you involved in this case. Which is why I’m coming along if you decide to go. Cover your back. Just in case.”

      “Just in case. Great. I’ll think on it, Fletch.”

      “Good. Call me first thing, let me know.”

      “Night.”

      She dropped her cell into the pocket of Xander’s shirt and went back to their bedroom. He was still out cold. She wasn’t tired anymore. Her head was aching, a residual effect from the wine at dinner, and more. She was gritting her teeth. Her shoulders were tense and her hands balled into fists.

      Why are you fighting this so hard?

      She took a few breaths, slowly let herself relax and went downstairs in the dark. The rain had never come, the storm scooting off to the east without a drop, and the moon was shining brightly, reflecting off the glass and metal as it bounced through the house. Without turning on a light, she collected her cashmere throw from the base of the stairs and tossed it over her shoulders. In the small butler’s pantry they used as a bar, she poured a finger of Laphroaig and went into the living room. Thor raised his head from his bed, saw his mistress wasn’t in harm’s way and went back to sleep with a sigh.

      She had to be honest with herself. Her natural inclination was to hightail it down to Lynchburg and post Timothy Savage. She was fighting it, fighting it hard, but the investigator in her was overruling the new, calm, Zen, I’m a teacher now. She wanted to see what was behind all the craziness today.

      She didn’t want the bother of being the executor of Savage’s estate; that was something better left to the courts. But giving the body a once-over, how could it hurt? Detergent suicide was becoming more and more common, though she’d only seen the abstracts written in the medical journals. Having firsthand knowledge would do nothing but enhance her repertoire.

      With Fletcher there to pave the way with the local authorities, she figured she could be in and out in fewer than twenty-four hours. Technically, she should have the body transferred to the OCME in Richmond, but if there was an appropriate facility in Lynchburg she could handle it herself. Hydrogen sulfide gas meant they’d have to take some precautions, but so long as the body was washed and the room well ventilated, no special biological hazard precautions would be necessary.

      Fletcher was right, damn the man. She was on the hook.

      “When are you going to Lynchburg?”

      Sam jumped and gave out a little scream. “Xander, you scared me. Can’t you clump down the stairs like a normal man? I’ve had cats that make more noise on the stairs than you.”

      He grinned, his teeth flashing white in the moonlight. “Sorry, babe. I’ll try to sound more like an elephant next time.” He sat on the couch next to her, took her hand in his easily. He didn’t seem worried, or concerned, just curious. Thor started to rise, but Xander gestured for him to stay put.

      “I thought you were asleep.”

      “You were thinking so loud it woke me up. Want to talk about it?”

      She traced the edge of his finger. “Fletcher wants to go to Lynchburg with me, thinks I should go ahead and post Savage’s body.”

      “I think you should, too.”

      Her head whipped up. He was smiling at her, a lopsided grin.

      “What?”

      “Oh, hon. It’s a mystery, and you love a good mystery. It’s going to eat at you until you do it, so why not go? Take a couple of days, drive south with your pet cop.”

      She narrowed her eyes at him.

      “Teasing. Seriously, I think you should go for it. You’re ready for your classes. This will occupy all your brain matter until you figure it out.”

      “I don’t know what the school will say. I’m supposed to be available in case any students need prep prior to the semester’s start.”

      “They’ll be fine.”

      They would. She was looking