Her ride-along week officially ended Friday afternoon at five p.m., but Livia managed, with a favor from Kent, to finish by noon. After the sequestration and transport of a forty-year-old suicide victim who had started his car in his closed garage and waited for the carbon monoxide to kill him, the morgue van pulled up behind the OCME where Sanj Rashi drew the gurney from the back and wheeled the body through the rear door of the morgue. In all, Livia recovered twelve bodies during ride-along week while learning the intricacies and tricks of scene investigation from Kent and Sanj. Although the past week had been fascinating, Livia found herself aching Friday morning to get back to the morgue. Back to her autopsy table and her tools and the controlled environment of the autopsy suite. What she learned during her first week of ride-alongs would prove invaluable as she continued her training, and she would return Monday morning more knowledgeable than when she left. She would also be refreshed and ready for her next case.

After Sanj wheeled the body inside, Livia stood outside with Kent. He pulled out a cigarette.

“You sure you don’t mind if I take off early today?” Livia asked.

“You outrank me, Doc.”

“Thanks. And I’d appreciate it if Dr. Colt didn’t hear about my heading out today.”

Kent smiled. “What happens in the morgue van, stays in the morgue van.”

“I owe you one.”

“Careful what you promise. I cash in on my favors. Trust me.”

Livia pointed at his cigarette. “You know what this job’s done to me in just three months?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s made me see people from the inside out. Or in reverse, I guess is a better way to say it. I see you dying of lung cancer as you suck on that cigarette. I see your lifeless body on my autopsy table, and I see all the necrotic tumors in your stenosed lungs. I see your trachea scarred and ash-strewn. I see your lips and tongue black with waiting death that crept down your throat and found your lungs. I see white pockmarks of cancerous tumors throughout your abdomen, and I feel your fattened lymph nodes swollen with—”

“All right, for Christ’s sake,” Kent said, dropping the cigarette and stomping it out.

“Sorry,” Livia said. “I’m just telling you the perils of my job. Since when do you smoke, anyway? I’ve known you three months, first time I saw you stick a cigarette in your mouth was two days ago.”

“Old habit,” Kent said. “Just picked it up again.”

Livia walked over to the van and leaned against it, taking a spot next to Kent. Ride-along week, much of which was spent in the van, provided many opportunities to talk. Fabricated beliefs about medical examiners were rampant, especially the idea that all MEs were tight with detectives, which Livia was finding to be a myth. The MEs worked most closely with the medicolegal investigators, and these were the people they got to know best. After five days, she realized much could be learned from sitting in the back of the morgue van. Kent was unhappily married to his high school sweetheart. His kids were the only reason he and his wife stayed together, and they had openly discussed the best time for divorce. Maybe when the kids were in high school, but that presented an awkward transition for the kids at an already challenging time. College was the next best time, but this was far off and the thought of “existing” together for that long was difficult. He didn’t believe in counseling and straight out refused to confess his annoyances and disappointments to a shrink. After all, Kent said in the middle of the week as he grumbled in the front seat and blew cigarette smoke through the barely open window, he had a never-ending supply of bodies that would listen to the stories of his shitty life.

“Things any better at home?” Livia asked.

“You can only stack a pile of shit so many ways, Doc.”

Livia smiled. “Try a stress ball instead of cigarettes. They’ll keep your hands occupied while you’re in the van.”

“I’ll give it a shot.”

“You talked all week about your wife, I wanted to make sure you knew I was listening.”

Kent smiled, lifted his chin. “Noted. Just remember when you settle down, Doc. Wait for the right person, because once you have kids you’re stuck with them.” There was a short pause before Kent spoke again. “So, you seeing anyone?”

Livia shook her head. “This job is all-consuming. Sadly, I’m more interested in impressing Dr. Colt than a boyfriend. And my current outlet for pent-up energy is kicking a hanging Everlast bag held by a large black man named Randy.”

Kent pursed his lips. “I’m not going to touch that answer.”

“Good. It was meant to get me off the hook.”

“You’re off. So what do you have cooking today? Why are you cutting out early?” Kent asked.

“I’m making a run up to Richmond to meet with the chief medical examiner up there.”

“Oh yeah? What about?”

“Probably nothing. It has to do with that jumper you dumped on me a few weeks ago.”

“The one we pulled out of the bay?”

“That’s him.”

“That case still pending?”

“Yeah. I’m not involved with it any longer. Homicide guys have it. I’m just curious.”

Kent ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. “About what?”

“It’s a long story, Kent. If we had a couple hours together in the van, I’d fill you in.”

“We don’t have that, so you can fill me in some other time,” he said.

“You’re on vacation next week?” Livia asked.

“Yeah. Heading up to Tinder Valley to fish for a few days.”

“I’ll see you when you get back?”

“For sure. You did good this week, Doc.”

*

After her Emerson Bay runs to track down Diana Wells and Nate Theros, Livia had spent the past two nights concentrated on Nancy Dee, the girl profiled in articles she found in Casey Delevan’s drawer. After two nights of researching the girl’s disappearance, the search to find her, the leads that came and went, the people who were questioned, and, six months after she had vanished, the grisly discovery of her body in a Virginia forest preserve, there wasn’t much Livia didn’t know about Nancy Dee.

After Nancy’s abduction from Sussex County, Virginia, in March of 2015, there was at first a group of the usual suspects that included her father and boyfriends. But the case quickly evaporated as everyone of interest provided solid alibis. An intensive search lasted for the first few weeks, and as Livia read Nancy’s story the words took her back to the previous year when the folks of Emerson Bay looked for Nicole and Megan. Their search, too, was frantic. Filled initially with hope that there would be a simple explanation to their disappearances, the hunt slowly fell under a cloud of dread as the days stacked up. When Megan McDonald miraculously resurfaced, wandering down Highway 57 two weeks after she disappeared, a joy filled the town and elation flooded the country, sweeping from east to west like a rolling tsunami. Details soon followed about Megan’s crafty escape from the dreaded bunker in the woods and her resilient character during her captivity. It was all everyone wanted, and the fact that Nicole was still missing fell into the shadows of Megan’s celebrity.

There was nothing in particular that pushed Nancy Dee’s story into the background other than time. The public’s attention span was short, and there were plenty of other stories that came along to distract them. Until Nancy’s body turned up in a shallow grave near the Virginia border in Carroll County, most had forgotten about this poor girl. Then, for a short, final burst, Nancy regained the headlines before she was gone for good, remembered only by family and friends and fetish groups that got off on such horrors.

Livia gathered everything she had on Nancy Dee and dropped it all on the front seat of her car. Virginia, like North Carolina, had a statewide medical examiner system in place, which meant any suspicious deaths would be handled by the OCME, as opposed to the smaller, coroner-run local facilities scattered throughout the counties. Livia had placed a call the day before to Dr. Angela Hunt, the chief medical examiner of Virginia, to inquire about Nancy Dee. Dr. Hunt had agreed to meet with Livia if she could manage to get to Richmond by four p.m.

The ride from Raleigh to Richmond was two and a half hours, and a straight shot up I-85. Livia found the Madison Building and parked under two tall flagpoles where the American flag and Virginia state flag flapped in the afternoon breeze. It took a few minutes of introductions and displaying her medical examiner’s badge until Livia was finally ushered to Dr. Hunt’s office.

“Dr. Cutty?”

“Yes. Hi, Livia Cutty.”

“Angie Hunt.”

They shook hands and Dr. Hunt motioned for Livia to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Taking her place behind the desk, Dr. Hunt asked, “What brings a Dr. Colt fellow up north?”