Okay, that might be pushing it, but a baggie from my kitchen was all I had, and I did date and sign it with a Sharpie I found in my junk drawer. I go over to the fridge in the corner. It’s the medical-grade one, not my personal one. I wouldn’t put a used condom in with my snacks, even if it is sealed in a Ziploc baggie.

“Is that a used condom?” Jeff sputters, jerking back with a grossed-out twist of his lips.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never seen a dirty rubber, Jeff,” I chide. “This was collected weeks after Richard Horne was dead, so it can’t be his. Yvette was having an affair.”

“Put that away.” Jeff waves at the bag, and I set it back in the fridge for safekeeping. That done, he seems to relax a little, but he’s talking to me like I’m a cornered animal about to lash out. “Zoey, I don’t know what you’ve been up to here, and I commend your dedication, but all of it . . . I mean, it’s . . . the case is closed and the man’s already buried—”

“But this is new evidence.” I interrupt. “As county coroner, you know I have the right and the duty to investigate. Said it yourself.”

“Sure, you do,” Jeff says, “but like I said, I have to snap the cuffs, and the DA has to get a conviction. Now what do you know about that part?”

I shrug, knowing I look stupid now. “Not much.”

“Exactly,” Jeff growls. “Zoey, there’s a reason that we turn anything suspicious over to the State for investigation. First off, I ain’t got the budget to have county employees traipsing through someone’s garbage and doing investigations. I have to fight for a budget just to keep your damn fridge on as it is. Second, any arrest we make here gets tried here. And while it’s legal, folks in this part of the state are hypocritical as hell. They’ll have their noses all up in your business, yes. But if someone goes into court saying they found evidence going through the trash? Shit, they’d be all up in arms even before the DA could sit his ass down.”

“Then put the call in to the State,” I declare. “Richard Horne was murdered. I feel it, right here where I should have a cheeseburger right now!” I lay my hands over my gut, knowing he understands instincts.

Jeff taps his temple in response, adding, “Someone really smart told me heart attacks aren’t caused by heavy metals. The State team would only say the same thing.”

He shrugs, and that shrug of dismissal might as well be a slap to my face.