BEN
Ben had taken to watching a sliver of Remi’s hair flutter as she breathed, still sound asleep. The hypnotic push and pull had convinced him to stay longer, to see it gently touch the tip of her nose and dance away—over and over again. Eventually, he smoothed it back behind her ear and forced himself to leave the bed before he fell asleep again. Jacques had caught him in the hall earlier to let him know he’d successfully delivered Leith’s body to the cellar.
Ben extracted himself from Remi as gently as he could, hoping not to disturb her.
He located his trousers near the foot of the bed and dressed himself, sneaking from the room and closing the door. Jacques waited patiently near the steps, wearing a disapproving look that already tried Ben’s patience.
He wasn’t sure how to say it aloud, but Remi would not be like the others.
“Sleep well?” Jacques raised a thin brow.
“I did.” Ben grinned. “And so did she.”
“Madame has earned a lifetime of rest, in my opinion.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Ben said, stopping at the base of the last step. Jacques unlocked the cellar, and the two descended into the dim lantern light. Leith’s body had replaced his father’s, which had been moved to another corner on a smaller table. They would have to find time to return both bodies once he had completed his study.
“It was difficult to bring him here.”
“I can imagine.”
“Can you?” Jacques grumbled. “Had to wrap him in a sheet and pull him from the cart into the cellar like a child with a wagon.”
“That’s crude.”
Jacques blinked slowly. “It’s the truth.”
“Let’s just get on with it.” Ben approached the head of the table, all the while reminding himself that it isn’t a violation if it’s for the right reason. It wasn’t as though he delighted in the act of exhumation; he liked it even less when it was a person he knew. Leith was a victim like his father and if his death was in fact murder like his father’s, then he needed to be certain of the cause.
I’m sorry for this. Truly.
Ben unbuttoned the collar of Leith’s shirt. The marks on his neck and wrists that Ben had seen at the dock were still evident. Ben ran his fingers along the bruises to feel the impressions.
“Write down what I observe,” he bid Jacques, and the other man reached for one of Ben’s notebooks. Without waiting, Ben explained in detail the size of the markings and the distinctive impressions.
“A rope no thicker than nine millimeters in diameter,” he hypothesized. “The blue color of his lips suggests strangulation, which could be mistaken for drowning. The tips of his fingers are raw, and the debris beneath his fingernails includes flecks of dried blood.”
Ben reached for his scalpel, prepared for Leith’s chest to be as botched as his father’s, and sighed at how poorly stitched up it was. It almost felt wrong to conduct an autopsy on a man Remi had grown up with, especially one she’d been intimate with. He couldn’t help thinking that if he’d stayed on the island, then he would have been with Remi, not Leith. The possible scenarios of their life together had played over in his mind on a perpetual, torturous loop.
Certainly, he would have courted her properly and then proposed to her with her family’s blessing. In the moments they shared leading up to their wedding, they would have stolen kisses and held hands when no one was looking. He would have married her in September when the leaves were turning, once the stormy season had finally broken into peaceful weather.
Remi in a wedding gown.
And the wedding night...
He shivered. Had he stayed, he could have been her first—and last—everything. He looked down at the Leith then, suddenly feeling as cold as the other man’s corpse. Ben gave his head a quick shake, banishing the thought. Remi’s friend was beneath his scalpel and he was busy thinking about her body in wicked ways. “Forgive me,” Ben muttered quietly under his breath. He owed the man his respect in death, at least.
Thoughts cleansed of Remi, Ben opened Leith’s ribs with his tools and a forceful pull, wincing when they cracked. He was jealous of a man who’d been murdered. He felt awful for even thinking such trivial things. Remi had been lucky. She’d had someone other than Elise to lean on.
A noticeable silence surrounded them until Jacques coughed, bringing Ben back to the present.
“What are you searching for?” he asked.
“Lesions in the lung tissue.” Ben removed both organs and transferred them to an empty surface to examine them. “Even if the original report said they’d found water in his lungs, there would be markings on the tissue. Thankfully, the body hasn’t decayed enough that I won’t be able to see them.”
Jacques nodded, waiting patiently as Ben worked.
“I was right. They’re clean,” he finally announced.
“So he didn’t drown,” Jacques stated plainly.
“No he didn’t,” Ben said, stepping back from the body. Leith’s body was handled just as poorly, and purposefully, as his father’s. It couldn’t be a coincidence. “The doctor lied about it entirely.”
Jacques clicked his tongue. “Paid off, I think.”
“By who?” Ben’s shoulders sank. “Lamotte? Marchand? Remi’s uncle?”
“Could be all of them.”
It was merely conjecture. Ben couldn’t do anything yet, even with his notes and observations. Even if the doctor was a negligent fool, he wasn’t wrong about Ben’s standing. He had no certification outside of hearsay and he couldn’t exactly admit that he’d conducted a posthumous examination on the body.
He needed to come up with a solution, and fast.
REMI
Remi licked her lips. She could taste…fire.
She inhaled and smoke burned her lungs. She coughed, terror seizing her as she jolted back to consciousness. She didn’t recognize the room, but in the roaring fire, everything was indiscernible. She only felt the sensation of being trapped, like a moth caught in the flame.
