Free Final Grave by Nadja Bernitt

volume.
    Ten minutes later, the Idaho Law Enforcement building stretched into sight. The long, one-story rectangular building looked about as impersonal as the flat, high-desert land it sat on. The best thing about it was a sparsely filled parking lot and his good fortune to find a parking spot in front of the forensic lab.
    Mendiola ushered Meri Ann inside. The reception desk was empty. No sign of anyone anywhere as they meandered down the hall.
    “Hey, Joe,” Mendiola called, looking for Joe Uberuaga, his second cousin on Dad’s side and the head of forensics.
    Meri Ann still had a spacey look and didn’t half listen. Her eyes moved from one door to the next. “Excuse me. Is there a restroom around here?”
    “Sure thing. Down the hall to the left.” He thumbed behind him. “When you’re done, we’ll meet in the conference room. Thatta way.”
    He spotted Uberuaga’s shadow on a partially open glass door. Two seconds later, a mop of dark curly hair poked out. His cousin wheeled around on a roller chair, looking for all his years of medical education more like a comedian than a doctor. It was the mustache, that bristly band of black, licking his upper lip.
    “Hey, Jack, Uberuaga said. “Where’s the woman?”
    “In the john. You here alone?”
    “I am.” Uberuaga scooted back to his microscope, and switched off the light, then swiveled around.
    Mendiola pulled up a straight chair and sat in it backwards. He checked his watch.
    “Always pushing the clock.”
    Mendiola grinned, hoped it masked his nerves. He owed a personal call he’d put off all day, and his nephew, Tony owed him one, confirming the bank deal. “Lots of balls in the air.” He glanced around at the empty lab. “So where’s everybody?”
    “A meeting over in Portland. I’m on my way as soon as I finish up here. Want me to say hey to Kari and her tennis buddy?”
    Mendiola snarled. “Screw you.”
    “Can’t take a joke? It’s been quite a while and I thought you said you didn’t care.”
    “She’s in town, Joe, leaving messages on my machine. I swore never again, but it’s tearing me up. She’s left him.”
    “And what? You think maybe you should talk to her, maybe get something going, again? Take my advice: leave that woman alone.”
    But he’d already caved last night, finished a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and called her back. “She’s here for Scott’s wedding, so I’m going to see her there anyway. It’s not like I can get out of going. I’m his best man.”
    “Shit happens but you don’t have to stand in it.”
    “I’ve agreed to see her.”
    “Are you out of your mind?”
    “Maybe I am.” What could he do when the woman he had expected to marry, a woman he’d shared his bed with for three years, begged to see him?
    When Kari had left he’d wanted to beat down doors and stomp on the man she’d taken up with. He still seethed at the thought. Yet he’d turned into a lump of rice pudding when she’d called and he’d heard that steamy low tone of hers. He shrugged. “Hell, yes. I’m certifiable.”
    Uberuaga’s mouth widened in to an incredulous smile. “You still love her, don’t you?”
    A rush of warmth crept up Mendiola’s neck to his face. He rubbed his chin. “Don’t know.” More than that, he didn’t know what he would do when he saw her.
    “She’s immature, Jack, full of herself. Pardon me for saying it, but she’s a spoiled bitch.”
    He nodded, and a loose lock of hair fell onto his forehead, hair as unruly as his cousin’s. He pushed it back. “Yeah, but it worked for a while.”
    He was thinking how he’d pictured her as his wife, and yet… .
    The lab door swung open, and the Fehr woman stepped inside, looking as if she’d pulled herself together.
    “I heard voices,” she said.
    Uberuaga rose and offered his hand. His eyes widened in an appreciative appraisal. “I’m Joe Uberuaga. You must be the gal from Florida.”
    “Yes, Meri Ann Fehr. I’m a detective for Sarasota