Billion Dollar Mistake by K.C. Crowne

Chapter 5

JOLENE

Lunch with Mom had been a scream, as always. Over turkey and pastrami sandwiches at Sanford’s Deli she poked and prodded me about my job and love life – special emphasis on the latter. Mom wanted nothing more than for me to get hooked up with a nice man with a good job and bright future. But who the hell had time for dating when you were trying to land a position at the State Coroner’s Office?

Back at work, I was in the basement, Joan Jett blasting on the Sonos speaker as I worked on a body.

The body on the table belonged to a woman in her sixties who’d passed from what appeared to be natural causes. She’d stipulated in her will that she wanted her body to be donated, so it was my job to give her insides a look to see what was healthy and usable. Once that was done, someone from the local hospital would swing by and pick her up.

I took my hands out of her chest, AC/DC’s “Dirty Deeds” playing on the stereo. I was all done with the chest cavity, which meant it was time to look at the brain. The woman’s heart was no good – heart failure had been the reason for her passing, and her lungs wouldn’t be useful for anything more than twin examples of why not to smoke.

Moving to the music, I shimmied over to the sink to wash up and change my gloves. Once that was done, I went to my tools and picked up my trusty oscillating bone saw, giving it a once-over to make sure it was ready to do the grisly, but secretly kind of fun, work of cutting into skulls.

After I checked out the saw, I set it down and went for a sip of coffee, wanting to get in one last taste before I dirtied my gloves. As I drank, the music still playing, I found my thoughts drifting back to Sawyer, of all people.

It was frustrating, really. The guy had been such a prick to me and the few friends I had back in high school. A guy like that should’ve had his ass handed to him by karma, right? But nope – he was looking good as ever, his clothes effortlessly sharp, seeming like he had the world by a string.

Of course, I’d had a crush on him back in high school. Sawyer was the most unattainable guy at Grover Cleveland High, a cocky, rich kid who never had to worry about getting attention from whatever girl happened to catch his eye. And I’d never been one of those girls.

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true – I caught his eye as a target of teasing. The worst part of it all was that his teasing didn’t dissuade me from finding him totally hot, the subject of all my teenage fantasies. On paper, it didn’t make a bit of sense. He was cocky and popular and didn’t seem to care much about school. I, on the other hand, was geeky and shy and obsessed with my grades. We came from different parts of town, hung with different sorts of people. Nothing about him and me as a couple would’ve made any kind of sense.

That didn’t stop me from mooning over him. All my friends, the fellow geeks I hung out with, tried to talk me out of my stupid crush any chance they got. Looking back, there were a couple of perfectly nice guys in my friend group that would’ve made fine matches for me.

Sawyer wasn’t the only point of fixation in my life back in high school. Junior year was when I’d read In Cold Blood for the first time. I’d spent hours in Aroma’s Café curled up in one of the big lounge chairs pouring over the story of the Clutter family and their untimely deaths. It had set off a love of true crime which turned into a love of medicine.

My friends in high school had mostly gone into tech, most making their way to the bay area or New York. But I’d stayed in town and came right back to Whitepeak after graduation from Colorado Med in Denver to intern here at the morgue. After the retirement of Dr. Martin Wallner, the local coroner, I’d been the natural replacement for the job.

I’d been here ever since, plugging away at autopsies and serving as an expert witness whenever anyone in the state needed the opinion of a coroner. I’d made a bit of a name for myself, too – enough of one that I’d felt confident applying for a position with the State Coroner’s Office. Just thinking about the job was enough to send shivers of excitement up my spine.

It was the perfect job for me. I’d be able to put my skills and experience to the test, working routinely with the Denver PD as opposed to the occasional cases they threw my way now. It’d be a pay bump too, but a little extra money in my pocket was nothing compared to the challenge. The best part was I wouldn’t have to leave Whitepeak. I’d stay in town, traveling around the state to wherever I was needed. It’d be like my job now, but on a bigger scale. Working for the state would open even more doors for me.

It was so exciting, in fact, that I had to make sure I didn’t get too carried away with the fantasy. There were plenty of qualified doctors in Colorado who wanted the job. I was quite confident in my skills and qualifications, but I knew I still needed to keep my expectations measured.

I took one more sip of coffee before putting my mask back on, then heading back over to the tool rack and picking up the bone saw. The job at hand was what I needed to focus my attention on. I placed the spinning wheel of the saw in position, turned it on, and went to work.

The music was good and loud, which was just what I needed for the task at hand. Sawing through skulls tended to be noisy and dusty, the whining of the saw against bone a sound that was hardly pleasant on the ears. After ten minutes or so, I’d managed to expose the brain underneath. It took a little doing, but I soon had the brain out and ready to examine – a process that I lost myself in.

“Braiiins.” The word was spoken in the low, guttural tone that a zombie would use.

The voice snapped me out of my work. I looked up, noticing that the stereo was off, the morgue completely silent. Standing at the base of the stairs was Dr. Dave Colsey, the assistant coroner. He was in his late twenties, and a hell of an employee, most likely the guy who’d be taking my job if I were to move over to the state office. Dave was my height, with short, sandy-brown hair and a fleshy, but friendly face, a pair of circular, thick-rimmed glasses on over his brown eyes. He had on jeans and a button up shirt, the pair of worn-out Vans on his feet a reminder that he was most definitely younger than me.

“You know Dave,” I said as I stood up and pulled the mask off my face. “The amazing thing about saying braiiins whenever I’m working on one is that it’s a joke that never gets old.” I flashed him a smile, letting him know I was only messing around.

“Hey, when you’ve got a classic like that, you gotta get your mileage out of it.”

I chuckled as he trotted over to give the brain a look. “You get a chance to read the medical file on this woman?”

“I skimmed it – was planning on giving it a closer look when I was done.”

“No need; I took care of that for you. Turns out she’s got a history of dementia in her family.”

I raised my eyebrows and glanced up at him. “You serious?”

“Serious. Her dad had to be put in an assisted living facility at sixty-five.”

A flash of excitement ran through me. “Then that means this brain is going to be a hot commodity over at Colorado Med.”

“My thoughts exactly. So, I called them up an hour ago and they’re sending someone over to pick it up.”

“Such a little go-getter,” I said with a smile, pleased that he’d saved me the work of chatting on the phone.

“Speaking of go-getting.” He nodded toward the brain. “Why don’t you let me get that prepped for pick up?”

“Oh, I got it,” I said. “I did the hard part; might as well finish the job.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Now, you know that there’s a good chance I’ll be taking your job if you get the position with the state office, right?”

“Right…”

“Which means that I’m going to need all the hands-on practice I can get. One woman can’t do everything, you know – even an extremely talented, brilliant one.”

I laughed. “You don’t need to butter me up, Dave. You already have my job the second the state decides to bring me on.”

“What, a guy can’t say something nice to his boss without there being ulterior motives behind it?” He glanced aside, thinking of something. “And speaking of bosses, I’m going to need to get my practice telling people what to do. Let me give it a try.”

He turned his attention to me, fixing a hard expression on his face as he pointed toward the stairs.

“McCallister, get your ass up to the break room and take ten. I’ll handle it from here.”

I grinned. “Not bad, not bad. A little drill sergeant-ish, but you’re on the right path.”

“Seriously,” he said. “Go get some coffee – I’ll finish up.”

“Alright. Finish up and let me know if anything comes up.”

“Will do, boss.”

I pulled off my gloves and tossed them aside along with my mask.

“Let’s not do any chicken counting before a single egg has had a chance to hatch.”

I headed up the stairs, stretching my arms as I went up. The door was ajar, and I pushed myself through and into the narrow main hall that went from the reception area up front all the way to the back offices. Within the reception area, I could hear the sing-song voice of Megan, the front desk employee who’d set me up on the disastrous date the other day.

I headed into the small break room, the space big enough for a table, a fridge and counter and not much else. The Keurig machine was one of the small luxuries the office afforded, and I didn’t waste any time getting a cup of dark roast going.

As the machine whirred to life, I found myself listening to what Megan was saying up front.

“She’s busy right now, I believe.”

After Megan was done, a low voice spoke. The tone was deep enough to make the bass clear, but the actual words not so much.

“Sure, I can check.” A giggle followed, the sort of giggle that Megan always seemed to make when she was in the process of speaking to a guy that she thought was cute.

I heard the quick clicking of Megan’s pumps against the linoleum floor. Then she poked her head around the door of the break room, an excited expression on her face.

“Um, are you free?” She asked the question as if it were a matter of life and death. In my line of work, we got plenty of the latter. Not so much with the former.

“Free for what?” The Keurig finished my coffee, pouring the last few drops into my novelty mug that read “Coroners love you for what’s on the inside.” Stupid joke, but I loved it all the same.

“Free to meet with the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s up front and he’s asking for you.”

I took my mug and stepped over to the fridge, taking out my carton of almond milk.

“Some guy just showed up and he wants to speak to me? Did he say what about? Does he have an appointment?”

“He said he was an old friend, and that was all he’d tell me.”

“An old friend?”

“That’s what he said. I know this is kind of weird and I know you hateunexpected visitors,so if you really want me to, I can tell him that you’re busy with whatever. But trust me, this guy is, um, well, you’d be mad at yourself if you did that.”

I sighed as I poured the almond milk into my coffee, replacing the cap of the carton and sticking it back into the fridge. She was right – I did hate unexpected visitors. But I had to admit that my curiosity was getting the better of me.

“Tell him I’ll be right up.”

Megan let out a squeal of delight before running off back to the reception area.

Who the hell was it? An “old friend”? I mean, I had some old friends, but most of them were living in places not in Colorado. And I couldn’t think of one who’d elicit that kind of reaction out of someone like Megan.

I sipped my coffee, bracing myself for whatever was about to happen. Mug in hand, I headed down the hallway to the small reception area.

If I’d been in the middle of a sip when I’d entered the room, I would’ve spit it all out at who I saw.

It was Sawyer Williams.

He was dressed in another sharp suit like the one I’d seen him in at the coffeeshop, the immaculate look completed by a pair of cognac-colored derbies with subtle broguing. The guy had been a prick back in the day, but I couldn’t fault him in the slightest for his fashion sense.

I was drawn to the slight smirk on his lips, that cocky little look that I’d seen a million times before, the one that was disarming and smarmy all at the same time, yet attractive as hell. Like before, the mere sight of the man was enough to make me wet, to make my pussy clench.

Standing there I found myself asking the same question that I had all those years ago back in high school: why the hell did a man who’d treated me like such shit turn me on so much?

“Sawyer?” I asked. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, Jolene.” He glanced down at the mug in my hand, chuckling as he read it. “Cute.”

My hand shot to the mug, covering up the words. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Megan seated at her reception desk. The computer in front of her was on, but her attention was on the awkward scene in front of her.

“Megan, you mind giving us a second?”

Without even looking at her, I could see the disappointment take hold.

“Fine, fine.” She grabbed her phone and left the reception area.

“Can I help you?” I asked, not sure what to say.

“I know this is a little weird.”

“More than a little.”

“Ok...”

“But your face stuck in my head. I kept thinking about you, trying to figure out why you looked so damn familiar. Then it hit me – freaking Jolene McCallister! From Grover Cleveland High!”

I winced. Something about Sawyer bringing up high school brought all sorts of awful memories flooding back.

Did he even remember that? There was no way. After all, why would a guy who treated me like that think I’d want anything to do with him almost two decades later?

“You remembered?” I asked. “Just like that?”

“Well, I asked my buddy Zander Davis. He’s a doctor, and that guy who came in looking for you at the coffeeshop mentioned something about you giving a medical testimony. I asked Zander if he knew you, and when he mentioned your name, it all came back to me.”

“All of it?” I asked. “Like, every detail?”

He regarded me with a curious expression.

“Well, mainly the fact that you and I somehow managed to go to school together without our social circles ever intersecting.”

But they did intersect – when he made fun of me with his friends. Was it possible that he really didn’t remember? Or maybe he was trying to sidestep it. Either way, my guard was up.

Silence fell as I tried to figure out what to say, what to make of all of this.

“You know Zander?” he asked. “Both Colorado doctors, after all.”

“I’ve seen him before – both of us have guest lectured at Colorado Med at the same time. But I don’t believe we’ve ever spoken.”

“Hm. Kind of funny how you guys are both doctors, but so different at the same time.”

“Different? How?”

“He saves lives, you check ‘em out after they’ve kicked the bucket. Kind of dark, you know?”

I sighed, frustrated.

“Something wrong?”

Yeah, something was wrong. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be a dick, or simply doing it inadvertently. All the cracks about being “Dr. Death” or whatever were easily the most annoying part of my job.

“Just because I work with death doesn’t mean I’m morbid or obsessed with it. I do the deceased and their families a great service.”

He cocked his head to the side, an expression of slight concern crossing his face. His look suggested that he hadn’t meant anything by it, that he wasn’t teasing me. All the same, I felt uneasy having this person from my past there with me, his intentions unclear.

“Why are you here, anyway?” I asked. “Something I can help you with?”

The mild confusion faded, replaced with something I couldn’t quite puzzle out. It was almost as if he were feeling shy about something. Now, there were lots of words I’d use to describe Sawyer. But shy wasn’t one of them.

“It’s kind of silly, really.”

“Try me.”

“After we saw each other back at the coffeeshop…well, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. First, it was a matter of trying to figure out where we knew one another from. And then when I learned the answer, it was something else. You look different, Jolene. I barely recognize you.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I bet you do. No glasses, right? And pretty sure you had braces.”

“Among other things.”

“Well, anyway, all I could think about was seeing you again. So, I found out where you worked and came here to ask if you might want to grab a drink tonight. Maybe when you’re done with work.”

Part of me was mad that he’d strolled in there with the balls to ask me out, that he didn’t seem to even be thinking about how he treated me in high school. Part of me wanted to laugh in his face, to tell him he wished he could have drinks with a woman like me. Part of me wanted to give him the finger, spin around on my sneakers, and stroll back to the morgue with a big smile on my face, pleased as punch that I’d finally stood up to the bully.

But another part of me felt different, like I’d become the girl I was back in high school, the one who hated the way Sawyer treated me but still wished more than anything that he’d ask me out. It was like all the years since then had vanished, and I was some gawky, geeky girl with ugly braces and a true crime book tucked into her back pocket.

The cockiness faded from Sawyer’s face. I had the sense a man like him, a man with looks and money and style, wasn’t used to women being unsure about what to say when he came onto them.

“You want to go out on a date?”

“Drinks, hang out, chill – whatever the kids are calling it these days.”

“So, you thought you’d just stroll into the workplace of a woman you hadn’t seen in years, call her away from whatever she was doing, and ask her out?”

“Well, technically we saw each other at the coffeeshop not too long ago.”

“You know what I mean. It’s pretty damn ballsy of you.”

He grinned, as if he were pleased to hear the word.

“I didn’t get to where I am now by being timid.”

“Where you are now? And where is that, exactly?”

“Standing in front of a beautiful woman from my past, waiting for her to say yes to my offer of drinks.”

The gorgeous as hell grin returned. While my hesitation might’ve knocked him off-kilter for a few moments, it didn’t last. The same sure of himself Sawyer Williams was back.

The same Jolene McCallister was back too, the same one who, back in high school, wanted nothing more than for Mr. Handsome and popular to show me a bit of attention.

“OK. Fine.”

What the hell?

“Perfect,” he said. “Six tonight? There’s a cocktail bar downtown called The Grove. You been there?”

“I have.”

“Then let’s meet there at six. Work for you?”

“Works for me.”

He grinned and winked.

“Can’t wait, Jolene.”

Without another word, he turned and was gone.

After almost two decades, I finally had what teenaged me had always wanted.

Yet all I could think about was all the ways it could go horribly, terribly wrong.