Chris Redding - Corpse Whisperer

Maybe the cops hadn’t gone to her room, yet.

Circling the building she found three guys sitting on a dock smoking cigarettes. After some cajoling and a little flirting she had on a set of kitchen whites.

Grabbing a tray with plates as she walked through the kitchen, she hoped she looked sufficiently like staff to get past anyone.

And she did, making it all the way to the elevator before a manager stopped her. But only to give her a dirty dish he found.

She smiled at the man, then kept going up to her floor.

No police waited outside in the hallway so she slipped into the room. Clothes were in odd places as if the cops had been here. “Why are they looking so hard for me?”

She jammed stuff into her bag and hiked it over her shoulder. Dropping the pretense of being a kitchen worker, she left the whites on the bed, hoping they’d find their way back to the owner.

“Disguise,” she said to her reflection in the elevator mirror.

Stopping in the gift shop, she bought a big hat and a pair of dark sunglasses. She tucked her hair into the head covering and limped out of the hotel.

Safely into a cab, she let out the breath she’d been holding, then directed the driver to her car. Which ended up being surrounded by cops.

“Damn.”

She couldn’t turn to Mark because he’d betrayed her. She’d have to come back during the night. So the cabbie took her to a park where she hoped she could spend the day in solitude.

Zach didn’t call and tell the police that he’d seen Grace. He should have. He’d be aiding a fugitive, not that he knew where she was.

But he had to find her and help her. Some primitive part of him knew she was innocent and needed to be protected. For once he wasn’t being a cop first.

He drove without direction, going on instinct as if with just his gut feeling he could find his mate. Grace.

Where would she be?

He hadn’t gotten to know her well enough to be acquainted with her habits.

He cursed his inability to see what had been in front of him. “Grace, where are you.”

As if on cue he pulled into the Glen Hills Municipal Park and there she sat alone in a tree grove. He walked towards her thinking she might be skittish.

She didn’t run when she saw him. Instead she sighed, her resignation to his presence a severe emotion on her face.

“Grace.”

She came into his arms. “Zach.”

His lips captured hers and she responded, her tongue licking out between them. “Don’t leave me.”

“I have to go back and find Dolores’ killer. I need to prevent her death,” she said.

“Not that I want Dolores dead, but will I remember you? I don’t want to lose you. I haven’t felt like this ever.”

“Zach it’s my destiny.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe you haven’t prevented it so we could be together.”

She stepped away from him, shaking her head. “It can’t be, Zach.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was given a gift for a reason.”

“Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.”

But he knew she would go back. His head dropped to look at the ground. A breeze stirred the trees around them. “What can I do?”

“I need to get into see Dolores.”

His gaze went through her, his tough cop stare, but she didn’t back down, didn’t change her mind. He reached out a hand to her. “We’ll find a way, then.”

No cops guarded the front entrance of the emergency department of Centre Community Hospital. Grace and Zach walked in among the bustling nurses as if they belonged there, too.

The multi-casualty accident whose patients had just rolled into the hospital were a godsend to the plan she’d hatched with Zach.

Without anyone noticing, she and Zach made their way to the morgue which sat in the bowels of the hospital. No one passed them in the lime green hallway behind the kitchen.

One of the patients from the car accident had died and his body lay outside the morgue door which stood ajar. Grace eased her way in behind Zach.

She slipped into a closet she knew sat by the front door while Zach asked to see Dolores.

“You’ll have to go yourself, I need to make copies of this paperwork and ours is jammed. Just stay until I get back so I can log in your visit,” the attendant said before pushing out into the hallway.

Grace came out of her hiding place. Zach’s gaze studied her. “Last chance to change your mind.”

“I won’t Zach.”

He kissed her as if he wouldn’t see her again, then she walked into the cold storage room.

Pausing before Dolores’ door, Grace drew in a deep, steadying breath. “Here goes,” she said to no one.

She rolled open the drawer and uncovered Dolores who must have been expecting her. Without hesitation, the dead woman grabbed Grace’s hand and spoke.

The colors swirled and Grace held onto her sanity with a nail. Where would she end up this time?

Zach pulled up in front of Dolores’ house as she stood talking to a stranger. Something about the petite woman seemed familiar, but he didn’t think he’d ever arrested her at all. But when he was a cop he came in contact with all sorts of people.

The blond woman smiled at him as if they’d met, but he still couldn’t place her.

“I’ve already rented the place,” Dolores said as Zach walked towards them.

“If I may be nosy, is the man’s name Mark?”

Dolores’ jaw dropped open for a moment, but then she shook off her surprise. “I’m not sure that’s your business.”

“Do you know this Mark person?” Zach asked.

“Yes, I do and I think he’s trouble,” the woman said with such conviction Zach had to enquire.

“How do you know him?”

“We’ve been friends for years.”

Zach frowned and ran a hand through his hair. “Lovers’ spat?”

“No, we’ve never been that way.”

“Then why do you think he’s trouble?”

“This is Grace, by the way, Zach.” The phone inside Dolores’ house rang. “I’ll get that.”

Zach turned his attention to the beautiful woman in front of him. Her concerned look had his protective instincts surfacing.

Her eyes were a magnificent green, her hair a striking white blonde.

“I think he’s going to kill Dolores.”

He took a step back. “Kill? Did he tell you that?”

“No, and I can’t explain how I know.”

“You have to tell me how you know. You can’t go around accusing people of murder especially when there hasn’t been one.”

She frowned, brushing a hair out of her face. “I know things before hand.”

He stopped his eyes from rolling. “A psychic? I don’t believe.”

“Then you’ll just have to trust me.”

“So when is this murder going to take place?”

She shifted on her feet. “In the next two days.”

“Your sources can’t give you an exact date?”

“No, it’s changed.”

She stopped talking as if she’d said more than she wanted. Her hand covered her mouth.

“What’s changed?”

“Never mind.” She reached into her purse and produced a card. “Dolores is about to tell you she’s pregnant. If I’m right or wrong, call me.”

She bounced off down the street to an older sports car. He fingered the card as she drove away from him.

Grace knew who the caller would be when her phone rang.

“So she’s pregnant?” she said even though she knew the answer.

She walked back and forth from her dresser to a suitcase with the phone tucked under her chin. If the place was going to burn she might as well be ready.

“There are a dozen ways you could know that.”

“Name three.”

“You could work for her ob/gyn.”

“Not with HIPAA regs these days.”