Mistletoe in the Mortuary (Inspector Rames)

Chapter 7

She didn't answer her tabphone all weekend.

Sebastian found it hard to stop thinking about her. Had he implied she was a liar? He'd never meant that. But he supposed if he couldn't trust that she was telling the truth, that did only leave one other option.

There was no one he trusted more than her. So did that mean he'd been wrong?

When he walked into the police station on Monday, he was still thinking about her. He thought about her all morning, hardly focusing on his paperwork, and when noon came he shoved back his chair with a clatter.

Otto looked up, both eyebrows raised. "Are you getting an umbrella, sir? There's a black raincloud hanging over you."

"Very funny." Sebastian strode to the door and yanked it open. "I'm getting lunch."

He wasn't hungry, so he fetched a cup of coffee and then went outside to vape. When he'd set up and taken a drag, he tried calling Cassia again. It rang out.

Frustration turned to concern. He hadn't heard a word from her -- or word of her -- since Friday night. What if something had happened and no one knew? What if she'd never even got home?

Giving up on the vape, he turned around and stalked back into the station. He had to know if anyone had heard from her now.

He found Amber alone in her office, working on her tabphone. She looked up as the door swung open, then rose to her feet. "Sebastian, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He didn't want to alarm her.

"I've never seen you looking so grumpy."

"It's the paperwork. I just dropped in to ask -- have you heard from Cassia lately?"

"This morning." She frowned. "Why?"

Relief washed through him. "I haven't seen her for a while, so I wanted to check."

"She's having dinner with us tonight. I'll keep an eye on her." Amber folded her arms across her chest. "But I heard you took her to a concert on Friday."

Bugger. "Yes."

"I don't think that counts as not seeing her for a while."

"It does now." He backed out the door before she could ask anything else. "Thanks, Amber."

***

This flat was warm. Cassia sighed with relief as she sat down at her parents' dining table. The mortuary was always cold, and she'd spent the past few nights shivering herself to sleep at home. Her landlord had told her no one could fix the heating until the end of the week.

Her mother was still in the kitchen, finishing off her dinner preparations. Her father was sitting at the head of the table in his wheelchair, talking to Alex about the tabphone model they both happened to share. Once, Miles had been the husband attending the Rames family dinners. Miles had talked with her father. Miles had walked back home with her afterwards, to their big flat where she'd never once felt lonely or extremely cold.

Now she was sitting on the other side of the table with no one.

Amber was watching her the same way Cassia imagined she watched her murder suspects. As sisters, they could hardly have looked more different -- Amber had short, brown hair compared to her long and blonde; hazel blue eyes compared to her ice; and a thinner face with higher cheekbones. But she had a steely expression that Cassia knew she wore sometimes, too.

She just didn't think she wore it often enough, because the stronger part of her was breaking. Like right now, when she was supposed to be enjoying her family's company but couldn't stop thinking about Sebastian instead.