6
My molecular biology and chemistry teacher was dead. The sweet, lively woman I’d first met at the university bookstore a few weeks ago. My soon-to-be advisor. The woman who taught my class less than forty-eight hours ago. The lunch I’d eaten before class hadn’t even finished digesting yet. How could she be dead? Why would anyone want to kill a college professor?
The tightness in my chest made me gasp. I couldn’t believe this. Didn’t want to believe it.
B was for Boron. Bismuth. Bohrium. Beryllium.
As the familiar words went through my mind, my mind started to clear. Poor Professor Zimm. Who would do this?
I wanted to dig her up, touch her, see what happened, use my powers to find the face of her killer. But the temperature was barely above freezing. I had no way of digging, my broth
