“Let’s calm down, people.” Jeff holds his hands out, one palm to me and one to Alver as though he thinks one of us is going to lunge for the other. Honestly, he probably assumes it’d be me. Of course he does, because I’m . . . me.

To my surprise, Jeff turns his eyes to Alver, though. “Is what Zoey said true? All you saw was her sitting on a table—pretty as you please, I believe you said—and this guy kneeling? No body parts strewn about or anything . . . ahem, sexual actually happening?”

I harrumph at the very question, and Alver’s brows are drawn down low as though he’s surprised this is how this conversation is going.

“I guess, but you know, she’s . . . Zoey. So . . .”

“So, what? I’m some freak who’s having sex in the middle of the morgue?” I yell, not caring if my voice carries through the air vents to the floor upstairs. This is ridiculous. “Honestly, Alver . . . if that’s where your mind goes, that speaks volumes about you, not me.”

Jeff clears his throat, probably wishing this were already over. “Okay, I think we’re going to file this under Office Misunderstandings and pretend we never had this conversation. Or at least I’m going to go listen to Baby Shark on repeat so I can scrub this whole incident out of my mind. You two can do whatever you need to. I’ve got to get back upstairs and finish paperwork so I can get out of here on time tonight. Martha’s going to have my hide if I’m late again.”

Jeff makes a move toward the door, singing quietly ‘do-do-do-do-dooo, baby shark’, and Alver looks between the doorway to freedom and me uncertainly. I know he’s got several hours left on his shift, ones that will have him patrolling the building, which includes checking the morgue for suspicious activity.

I narrow my eyes and bare my teeth in a feral smile, feigning the monster he thinks I am.

Though I keep my threatening glare focused on Alver, I call to Jeff, “Sure thing. I’ve got a bit of work to do too, so I’ll be here for a while.”

Alver swallows thickly, and I lurch his way, not to hurt him but to scare the shit out of him. It works. He jumps again, his feet scrambling beneath him as he tries to run for the door.

“You’re crazy, Zoey Walker.” And with that decree, he passes Jeff and steps slowly out the door backward, as though he’s not the one who just stabbed me in the back.

Once he’s gone, Jeff chuckles. “Don’t be too hard on the old guy, Zoey. He’s trying to stay useful because retirement didn’t sit well with him. Or his wife.”

I shrug, feeling tired already. “Not my problem. He’s the one causing problems.”