Free Remote Consequences by Kerri Nelson

of humidity, and my hair inched up the back of my neck in response. The floor of this particular building did not sport the club's standard hardwood flooring. Instead, it was covered with green artificial turf. There were slightly sunken drains located at key junctures in the floor, and I couldn't help but think of the floor drains in the autopsy suites back at school.
    I would never forget the first time I'd had to see and touch a cadaver. I'd been surprised at how hard and cold a body could feel, even through gloves. I'd learned to detach myself from the body. I tried to never think of it as a person. Someone's brother or father or boyfriend—nope, it was just a body. That was the only way I could cut into it, dissect it, and learn from it. Of course, that didn't mean that you lost respect for the body. You always had to respect this person for making a sacrifice so that others could learn. Giving your body to science takes guts—no pun intended.
    A small shiver racked my body as my mind wavered back to the sight of the body in the freezer. I hadn't had the same detached reaction to this body. Why? I hadn't known the person. Why had I been so flustered by it? Why hadn't I taken the time to examine it a little further before I'd high-tailed it out of there?
    I should have been glad that I didn't have to go back to the scene of the crime. But instead, I wished for a second chance. My reaction had been so out of character for me.
    "Well, isn't this just the most awkward thing ever?"
    The tightly wound voice of Allyson Harlow somehow managed to shrivel my hair another half-inch shorter. I looked up from the outlet I was wiring to find the busty brunette decked out in a yellow polka-dot bikini and a straw hat with matching yellow bow.
    What is it with her and polka dots?
    She twirled her sunglasses around and around by the ear stem in one hand and sloshed a cocktail around in the other. The pink umbrella in the drink was being sucked down into the whirlpool of what smelled like Malibu rum.
    I faux-smiled at her and returned to my work with concentrated effort.
    "Do you think you could hand me a towel from down there?"
    I turned to look behind me and saw that there was, indeed, a wicker cabinet door that concealed shelves of large, fluffy white beach towels.
    "Uh…let me think…no."
    Allyson gasped in mock horror. "I mean, since you're down there already and all. You can't do me this one itty-bitty little favor, Mandy Candy?"
    A tightening at the base of my spine threatened to rocket boost me up from my crouched position and knock the daylights out of this pest. But I took a deep breath and continued to work. I refused to stoop to the level of petty catfighting. It just wasn't worth it. We weren't in high school, after all.
    That was when the sticky, ice-cold drink hit the top of my hair.
    "Oopsie…"
    I shot up and smacked the glass out of Allyson's manicured hand. It hit the turf-covered floor with a thunk but managed not to break.
    "Are you out of your mind?" I snatched a towel out of the now-open door to the cabinet.
    "Well, you see, that's why I asked you to get it for me. When I bent over to open the cabinet, I must have accidentally fumbled my drink. Oopsie…"
    "I'll oopsie you." My eyes were on fire as I fought back the sudden urge to cry. I towel dried my now-sticky strands as I tried to control my emotions. I would not—absolutely would not —let this jerk get to me.
    "I said I was sorry."
    "No, you didn't."
    "Oh, well, I'm sure you know it was an accident. I know it is early in the day, but I've been having brunch with Mrs. Mills, and she does enjoy a morning cocktail by the pool."
    My hand slowed its motion as I immediately began to wonder if Allyson and Mrs. Mills had chatted about the matter of a little dead body situation in the attic. I wondered how to broach the subject.
    "I wanted to tell you that I loved the little article you starred in this morning. Too bad they didn't include a picture of you. I know