“Well, well,” Jackson drawled from atop the stairs, his frown curling into the ruddy hair of his beard. From his vantage point and with the bright wash that illumined the gurney with a ring of light, Walker knew he could see everything.
Keen sight, be damned.
With a chuff out of his nose, Jackson stomped down the stairs to plant himself at the side of the autopsy table, right next to Walker. Whistling quietly, he added, “Would you look at that.”
Walker had to fight the urge to snatch up the sheet and pull it up and over John’s gruesome corpse. As though that would somehow save the male’s modesty. What did he care? He was dead.
Still, Walker couldn’t shake the thought that no one deserved to be seen in such a state.
Worse than all that, perhaps, were the stark hollows beneath John B
