Grace lifted the large, clear measuring cup that held the contents of Mavis Templeton’s stomach and scrutinized the one-half-by-one-eighth-inch flat oval on top.

It looked like a seed of some kind.

It also resembled an object she’d found in a stomach during an autopsy a few months ago.

“Come across something interesting?”

She turned toward her autopsy technician. Who knew, when she’d accepted this gig in rural America, that a tech with Max’s skills, experience, and insights would come forward and make her job so much easier?

“What do you think that item on top is?” She held out the cup for his inspection.

He moved closer, the plastic apron he wore over his disposable surgical gown crinkling as he approached, and peered into the cup. “No clue.” His response was slightly muffled by the splash shield covering his face.

“Best guess.”

He lifted his gaze. “Why?”

“It’s unusual.”

“You mean beyond the fact it’s intact?”

A sound observation. Gastric juices were efficient. In most cases, stomach contents became pulp within an hour or two.

“Yes.”

Max inspected it again. “It could be a seed.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He shrugged. “People do eat seeds.”

“I doubt Mavis would have. Not on purpose.”

“How do you know?”

“We attended the same church and often talked after services. Sometimes about food. She told me she was a picky eater.”

He motioned toward the seedlike object. “Is that why this caught your attention?”

“It’s one of the factors. I also saw a couple of these in an autopsy six, eight months ago. In that case, the stomach wall was hemorrhagic, thickened, and stiff—which is why I took a closer look at the contents in the first place. Mavis’s stomach is in the same condition.”

“So?”

“I’ve done more than a thousand autopsies, and I’ve only come across an object like this twice. Seems strange to find it within a small geographic radius mere months apart.”

He squinted at her. “Strange as in suspicious?”

She cast a glance at Russ Franklin on the far side of the room. The coroner was finishing his second donut while he talked on his cell. “Maybe.”

“That may be a stretch.” Max plopped Mavis’s liver on the scale. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Her seasoned tech knew her well.

She joined him, skimmed the readout, and jotted 1,240 grams on the autopsy form. Within normal range, as almost all the findings had been.

“Call it intuition, but Mavis was healthy. She had a physical two weeks ago and got a positive report from her doctor. Also, other than over-the-counter allergy pills, she took no medicine. She gave me a topline health history while I chatted with her last Sunday.”

He removed the liver from the scale. “Physicals don’t catch everything.”

“I know.” Yet she couldn’t extinguish a smoldering ember of unease. “I want to take a larger-than-usual sample of that.” Since the liver was the most valuable tissue specimen for toxicology testing, having more material on hand rather than less was prudent.