Unless you were a thirty-year-old single woman whose last hot date had been three months ago. A date that had cooled off fast after the guy asked about your day—and you’d told him in perhaps a tad too much detail while the two of you were chowing down on barbecue.

Grace sighed and slumped back in the chair.

As soon as the color began leeching from her companion’s complexion, she’d changed the subject—but not fast enough to salvage the evening or win herself another dinner invitation. He’d dumped most of his meal into a takeout container, hustled her home as fast as he could, and never called again.

So with nothing more interesting to do on this Friday night, she’d swung by the mortuary to review the paperwork and medical records for tomorrow’s autopsy.

Pathetic.

Huffing out a breath, she pushed the chair back and stood. She was out of here. Watching a movie by herself from her collection of oldies wasn’t her first choice of activity for a date night, but it was preferable to—

She froze.

There it was again. A muffled, metallic tapping noise. Faint but discernible.

And it was coming from the cooler.

A shiver snaked down her spine.

The only person in there was Mavis—and she wasn’t doing any tapping.

Sidling around the desk, she eyed the refrigeration unit. There had to be a logical explanation for the noise.

Of course there did.

Nevertheless, she opened her purse and pulled out the compact Beretta she’d carried ever since—

No.

She was not going there.

That was then, this was now—and lightning didn’t often strike twice. She was overreacting.

Even so, she kept her pistol at the ready as she approached the cooler.

The faint tap sounded again, more to the right—and muffled. Like it was outside the building.

Exhaling, she lowered the gun. A noise on the other side of the wall was nothing to worry about. For all she knew, a carful of teenagers had pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home and decided to down a few illegal beers where no one was likely to disturb them.

This out-of-proportion response to a stray noise wasn’t like her.

But she was tired. It had been a long week, and she was stretched thin. Doing autopsies for six adjacent rural counties—not to mention the occasional private job she picked up—kept her on the move.

Add in that weird noise she’d heard outside the window of her rental house last night, and it was no surprise her usual calm was a mite wobbly.

Time to call it a night, go home, watch that old movie—and chill.

She returned to the desk, picked up her purse, and started to tuck her Beretta inside. Hesitated. Shook her head in annoyance.