feet were crossed loosely at the ankles, indicating that at the time of death he had been standing—she’d once heard it was because the left side of the brain shut down first and it caused the person’s legs to cross as they fell, but whether it was that or simply inertia, she couldn’t be sure. Yet, only those who were standing at the time of death fell as Robert had.
“Jeremy, stop,” she called down the tunnel, but it was too late. Jeremy stepped into the light.
“Oh, my God,” he whispered, looking down at the body. He moved his light, shining it on the man’s face.
His skin was pale, mottled to the point of gray—the color of death. His eyes were open, but they were opaque and unseeing.
“Robert...” Jeremy illuminated the side of his brother’s head.
There was a streak of dried, congealed blood down the side of his face and neck. His jacket was stained red and brown, and a pool of blood had settled and dried in his lap.
A gun was on the ground by his left hand. Next to the gun was a single spent casing.
One shot, one kill.
Jeremy dropped down to his knees as he stared at the man.
“Jeremy, you should go,” she said. “I can take it from here.”
“My brother...” Jeremy started, stunned. “This is my brother.”
“I know. And he’s always going to be your brother, but right now this is a crime scene.”
Jeremy wouldn’t let her leave him outside the mine; instead he watched as she and her team documented the crime scene, taking measurements, pictures of the body and close-ups of Robert’s face and the wound at his temple. They were doing their jobs, but it made his stomach churn every time he looked up and saw his brother’s face.
Robert had had his fair share of issues, but Jeremy had never expected them to land them here—his brother dead and him watching as Robert’s body was poked and prodded.
Blake looked to him as one of the investigators took a close-up of the bullet wound. “You okay? Are you sure you want to stay down here? It’s been a long day.”
“I’m fine.”
She frowned, like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t say anything. She turned to the other officer and handed him her camera. “Did they get a video?” Blake asked.
“Yep,” the investigator answered.
“Great. Make sure to get some more pictures. Especially of the spatter.”
The officer nodded, taking the camera. The strobing flash made Jeremy flinch, as if each picture was the crack of a bullet that had come too close.
He had to pull his crap together. For the next hour or so, he couldn’t see the body as his brother if he wanted to get through this. This couldn’t be Robert—it had to be just another face, or he’d never be able to be right again. And for dang sure, he didn’t need Blake worrying about him. She needed to focus on her investigation.
He took a deep breath.
Blake took a swab of the body’s hands. She tried to move his arm, but he was at full rigor. Leaning down, she sniffed his hands and then wrapped them in paper bags.
“You smell anything?” he asked, glancing down to the place where the handgun rested.
“Hard to say,” she said with a slight shrug. “His hands smell heavily of dirt. That can cover the scent of powder.”
He nodded.
“You want to take a sniff?” she asked, motioning to the bagged hands.
If this was his scene, he would have done it, but he still couldn’t let go of the fact it was Robert. No matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn’t feel his brother’s cold, lifeless flesh.
“I’m good, but make sure you’re getting everything.” He pointed at Robert’s underarms. “Did you get a picture of his coat? How it’s bunched up where someone would have put their hands if they were dragging him.”
Blake frowned like she didn’t agree, but she motioned to the officer taking pictures. “Make sure we get a picture of that.”
The man nodded, his camera flashing.
“After the coroner’s done, I want you to bag that gun and send it off to the crime lab. I want prints pulled and a ballistics test. Got it?”
“No problem,” the officer said between pictures.
She turned to Jeremy. “You know I’m sorry about your brother and everything that’s going on in your life right now, but that doesn’t mean you can come in and tell me how to run a crime scene.”
That’s not what he had implied, but apparently he had hit a sore spot. “Right.”
She pulled off her blue gloves with a snap and turned to the other investigator. “You done?”
The officer nodded, handing her camera to her. “I think we’ve got everything you’ll need.” He started down the tunnel, leaving Blake standing alone with Jeremy.
She stood up and brushed off her knees. “Don’t worry, Jeremy. Even though it’s just little ol’ me in charge, we can figure out what happened.”
* * *
OUTSIDE THE TUNNEL, Blake set the camera on the table at the makeshift command post and she tried to control her breathing. The vic may have been Jeremy’s family, but that didn’t mean that he could come in and try to tell her how to do her job. She never should have let him trail along. She should have trusted her gut and kept her distance.
The industrial lights made the night as bright as midday. Jeremy sat outside the mine’s entrance as a few other officers milled through the grass and brush looking for any other evidence. The coroner walked down the trail from Robert’s driveway, and she gave him an acknowledging wave.
She flipped through her camera, looking at the different photos of Robert’s body, the gun and the walls in and around the scene. The last picture was of the blood spatters on the wall behind the body. The spray had moved far in the chasm, but the heaviest was just to the right of where Robert had slumped.
She made a note in her investigation report as the coroner stopped beside her.
“Have a dead one, eh? Lucky for you, the state’s hotel is always open,” he said, trying to make a joke. She didn’t find it funny.
Blake nodded in Jeremy’s direction. “That’s the vic’s brother, so be careful what you say.”
The older man’s flabby, jovial face turned placid. Most coroners were former police officers and more of the quiet type, but this one had come out of Wyoming and seemed to live for his job.
“Got it. So what do you think? Suicide?” He looked over her shoulder at the camera. “Oh, that’s some nice spatter.”
She put the camera down and out of sight of the death-happy coroner. “Right now I’m unsure. It’s presenting like a suicide, no drag marks.”
“Hmm...” The coroner made a note. “Anything else?”
“The vic had a bullet wound to the left side of his head.”
“Was the vic left-handed?”
She hadn’t thought to ask Jeremy. “I don’t know.”
The coroner nodded. “Well, I’ll see what I can make of it.”
“Sounds great, thanks. My investigator will take you to the body.” She pointed to the other officer, who motioned for the coroner to follow him.
The