Chapter 6

What was the world stained with if not tragedy? This question pierced a painful hole in Skylar's thought process…and even her heart. She shook this thought out, certain it would resurface sometime later to plague her once again. She prepared the body on her table for the autopsy, hovering over it for the past five minutes as if she hadn’t done this dozens of times.

She was often able to keep a safe emotional barrier between herself and bodies that unfortunately found themselves under her knife, but today she wasn't sure if it was the life growing in her but the view of a dark haired thirteen-year-old boy made her hesitate to do her job. Every corpse told a story yet she feared to know his.

They never got many children and usually when they did Skylar’s business partner would be the one dealing it with. Unfortunately, he was yet to return from his one-week getaway. Their clinic was being used as consultants in a police matter, an independent autopsy and yet her hands shook, her eyes remained unfocused not willing to see the clues on the body. Unwilling to know if this child had been severely abused in the time leading up to his death.

"The investigating officer wishes to stand in." Those words vaguely etching into her brain.

"Send him in." She spoke automatically. No more reason to hesitate. She steadied her hands and began a preliminary observation of the body, every conclusion taking up permanent residence in her mind.

At noon, the officer departed. Skylar removed her coat and cleaned up her station without hesitation. It was a slow day, giving her time to think. She didn’t want to think. The topics made available to her brain all had the potential to cripple her well-constructed walls. All of them falling squarely into the ‘tragedy’ bracket.

Two things. Admittedly, totally unrelated. The body that had been occupying her table was off a murdered boy. His father snapped his right hand subsequently manually choking him to death in a fit of rage. The motive? The father came home to find the thirteen-year-old standing over the dead body of his six-year-old brother with a bloody knife because he blamed his younger brother for the death of their mother.

There were a lot of people who were willing to cover up the father’s deed. ‘Completely justifiable’ were the words the officer used to convey the mentality of some other members of law enforcement. Hence, the reason for an independent autopsy.

The man had lost both his children in the space of minutes. His wife died years’ year ago giving birth to his younger son and he’d been a single father since then. Skylar chewed on the inside of her cheek, rewarded then by a metallic taste in her mouth.

Compartmentalising her opinion into a single neatly packed file was impossible. She’d murdered people in cold blood as young as sixteen without an ounce of remorse. Then or now. They had all deserved it. Criminals of the highest degree who did nothing but charred the earth with their very existence.

Skylar feared she hadn’t the morality to judge anyone in this case. Wouldn’t it be hypocritical of her? She hadn’t always operated within the confines of the law and if she had too she’d do it again. In her capacity as a professional, her opinion didn’t matter, doing as she was told, performing her skill was all she had the right to do. It was a heart breaking situation all round but the outcome was out of her hands and she had never been more grateful; hoping she could drive the whole scenario away as if it never happened.

Secondly, the topic of single parenting revived her mother’s words, she heard them clearly as if her mother was standing right next to her…she wasn’t. The alternative reason? Perhaps, the words had been stored somewhere in her ear canal and was now being replayed. None of the explanations seemed attuned to sound mind and memory.

Skylar was torn between her own desires and the practicality of her mother’s words. Love wasn’t worth holding out for, in her mother’s view. It would be temporary anyway. Would her child resent the lack of a father? What were the odds of her falling for someone who’d treat her child as their own?

*Cyner offered* She reminded herself, not at all impressed by his false chivalry. But if such a man, one who only thought of himself, had a sense of responsibility surely there must be some hope for the male species.

Drats! Skylar tapped the centre of her forehead. Her mind had tricked her again. This wasn’t exactly the definition of ‘not wanting to think’ wasn’t it? Skylar strolled out into the reception area.

“Paris?” She swept her gaze around the shimmering white area upon noting Paris’ absence from her post. Skylar even leaned over the curved white and grey front desk counter, her feet dangling slightly off the floor. Sometimes Paris hunched down on, headphones in, searching for something in one of the lower inner draws.

She wasn’t there.

“Looking for me?” Paris snickered. Dr. Taavon’s antics never ceased to bring laughter into her days, no matter how bad it promised to be. Paris wished that one day she’d have half the confidence this woman exuded and half her spirit. Skylar jumped down from her unorthodox use of the counter, heels and tiled floor colluding for the production of a clanking noise that echoed and drowned out. She straightened her back.

“Had lunch yet?” Skylar crossed her legs to form an ‘X’. It gave her greater balance with heels. Paris shook her head, her lips parted to give a verbal input but Skylar cut her off.

“Today is a day for comfort food.” Skylar declared cheerily, needing soul healing that could only come from good food, “I am going to run to that restaurant you like down the street, what do you want me to get you?” She crossed her arms, gazing at Paris warmly. There was a world of people struggling, as Skylar and her mother had upon her father’s death, and while she hadn’t the capacity to help them. Skylar would make it her life’s mission to ensure the girl who hadn’t yet discovered her power succeed her troubles. That was within her control.

“Actually,” Paris begun rocking back on her heels.

“If you refuse, I’d still get you something and run the risk of bringing back food that is not your preference.” Skylar interjected seriously.

“I already ordered us food, I just stored it in the kitchen.” Paris said smilingly. Since she’d been hired by Dr. Taavon a year ago she had been patient with her; a twenty-year-old who’d never had a single job apart from going to school. At that point in her life, Paris lacked the financial prospects to survive another day much less a week. Dr. Taavon had, in good faith, given her an advance in her salary; a girl she didn’t know a thing about.

Paris’ mother had been in and out of a rehabilitation centre for her enervating anxiety and depression. The cost had eaten away at her mother’s savings causing Paris to delay her University acceptance for Medicine. She’d instantly began job hunting so she could keep up with her mother’s treatment.

Dr. Taavon had used her connections and weight as a highly respected lecturer, and medical professional, being one of the youngest forensic pathologists in the Country, to sort out an arrangement that would provide Paris the opportunity to elevate her status and follow her dream.

She felt satisfied being able to give back to Dr. Taavon; even if all she could do was get her lunch.

“You are a life-saver!” Skylar exclaimed, hanging her head back, her words directed to the ceiling “I am starving, let’s have lunch before the three o’ clock appointment.” She was already headed straight for the kitchen area, Paris following close behind.

***

Thomas leaned back on his car, scanning the forensics centre that materialised before his eyes. He’d been waiting too long. Would she blame him? All the years that disintegrated in dust and fading memories might have turned her bitter towards him. Would he have been able to save her from this situation if he’d gone against instruction back then? He ran his fingers through his hair and made his entrance. He smirked at the receptionist as confused eyes connected with his.

"May I help you?" she halfway eased off her chair, one-foot dangling of the chair and the toes of her other foot grazing the floor. Her voice quivered giving him the instant upper hand.

"I believe you can." his voice low and soothing as he leaned against the counter. "is Skylar Taavon available?"

"Do you have an appointment?" She paused slightly, noting his attention on admiring the make and style of the room. Paris wondered if she were day dreaming again. It wouldn’t be the first time she lost touch with reality. There was really no explanation for this suave, silver-tongued man with a razor sharp jaw-line, a French crop hair cut to be standing before her.

“Don’t need one, we are close friends.” Thomas smirked enjoying the look of utter astonishment. He’d missed being out and about, causing bits of mischief.

Paris clicked her tongue, not intending to speak the words in her mind so openly, “I have never seen you before and Dr. Taavon’s friends frequent the building.” But his eyes were hypnotic, drawing her thoughts out. She bit down on her tongue, Paris was more than certain that Dr. Taavon had literally two friends and this man was not one of them.

“Surprised she hasn’t mentioned me,” Thomas leaned off the counter, brushing lint off his black t-shirt, “Quiet hurt, actually,”

“As am I.” Austin came up behind Thomas raking his hands through his hair drawing Paris’ attention in the process. Paris opened her mouth and pressed it closed instantly, biting down on her tongue again. *What was happening?*

This particular slice of heaven sported a mid-fade hairstyle, dark piercing eyes that were hooded by thick distinct eyebrows in that his left brow had a slit through the end of eyebrow hair. Whereas his counterpart was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, this man was in a navy green suit; he seemed the more rugged of the two. A tiger hiding under the guise of a sleek, well put together man.

These were the men she read about in books, not have conversations with. She couldn’t help but listen in on their conversation.

“You?” Thomas scoffed in disbelief. “You are joking.” He exercised his face muscles by arching his brows.

“I think I deserve an honourable mention.” Austin replied smiling at Paris. She couldn’t contain the rise of colour to her cheeks.

“I told you to wait,” Austin shoved his hands in his pockets, regarding Thomas lazily.

“You were dragging your feet.” Thomas had agreed to meet Austin at the clinic. Whether that was before or after he saw Skylar there had been no consensus.

Completely different men, Paris thought, but she couldn’t decide which was more attractive. Choosing one would be a travesty.

“It’s not exactly the highlight of my week seeing her again so soon.” Austin reminded Thomas.

“What’s your name doll?” He didn’t wait for Thomas’ reaction, turning his attention to starry eyes girl behind the counter.

“Uh, Paris.” She answered after a mentally exerting attempt to draw the remembrance of her name to the fore of her memory.

“Well, Paris direct me to Dr. Taavon’s office.” He encouraged her lightly, a complex mask of applied friendliness covering his face.

“I’ll call her and let her know to expect you.” She grabbed the phone in the palm of her hand and dialled the office’s extension. Austin pressed down on the phone, ending the call.

“Won’t be necessary, I want to surprise her.”

"Impressive establishment you have here." The vibration of his voice toxic enough to render her heart temporarily still. She swallowed hard, drawing the petite knife from her desk and throwing it in his direction. Austin stared back at the knife vibrating out all of that kinetic energy as it stuck itself into a file cabinet.

“Will you honestly try killing me every time we see each other?” He smirked, completely unshaken.

“I wasn’t trying to kill,” she folded her hands on her desk, “this time.” An ominous warning. “Stalking is such an ungentlemanly trait." She added on, her eyes reduced to slits; focused on her prey.

“Good thing I’m not a gentleman.”