Dead Bodies, Dead Languages

By Sherrie Lea Morgan

When linguist Andrea Davis finds the body of one of her favorite professors, she notices the note pinned to the corpse is written in Old English—and the murder scene is straight out of an ancient tale. Shock and grief are not the only emotions she feels. Disbelief, unease, and attraction run amok when she spies Brady Lancaster—the detective in charge of the scene.

Detective Brady Lancaster is drawn to the quiet fire burning behind the terror in Andrea's eyes, even if she did stand him up once. But when more bodies turn up, each bearing a similar note, her status as a witness changes—now she is at the head of their suspect list.

To prove her innocence, Brady will have to go rogue—before she becomes the killer's next target.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Oct 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781509233724

Sherrie Lea Morgan

Sherrie Lea Morgan is an active member of Romance Writers of America, her local chapter Georgia Romance Writers, Paranormal Romance Guild. She lives north of Atlanta, GA with her twin sister, two dogs and two cats. When not working her current manuscripts, she enjoys spending time with her family. Visit her at: www.sherrieleamorgan.com; www.facebook.com/sherrielea ; Sherrie Lea Morgan (@slmorganwrit) | Twitter

Book preview

Inc.

I’m telling you, she’s not the killer.

I’m going to take her in. Now, you can redeem yourself by listening to what I’ve got and… Neil paused a moment then continued, we can work on trying to clear her. But I’m going to take her in. If I don’t, we both look like fools instead of just one of us.

A gasp made Brady spin around. Andrea stood frozen at the entry. Her face pale of color as she glanced from him to Neil.

She shifted slowly to stand next to Brady and raised a brow at him. His response was a quick shake of his head as he turned away and picked up his coffee cup.

Something going on that I should know about? she asked.

You need to get dressed, Ms. Davis. I’m required to take you downtown to talk. We have new evidence to review with you.

You must do this now? When Neil nodded, she turned toward Brady. His back was still to her. Why now? I mean. I would like to go and explain to Jason what is going on first, if I may?

Neil shook his head. I'm sorry. It needs to be now.

Look, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve always cooperated with you. Doesn’t that count for anything? The hair lifted on her neck when he remained silent. Am I under arrest? her voice shook as she asked Neil the dreaded question.

Dead Bodies, Dead Languages

by

Sherrie Lea Morgan

Heroes of Coweta County, Book 3

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Dead Bodies, Dead Languages

COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Sherrie Lea Morgan

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

Editor ~ Amanda Barnett

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2020

Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-3371-7

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3372-4

Heroes of Coweta County, Book 3

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

Norma J.

Thank you for believing.

Prologue

She isn’t waking up, Pappy, Andrea whispered. She clenched her hands on her mother’s shoulders and shook her. Why isn’t she waking up?

Dre dear, she’s gone and went with your daddy to Heaven, her grandfather’s soft voice echoed across the room. Why don’t you sit and wait over here with me until the nice policemen show up?

Andrea glanced up and frowned. Because I never told them about you?

No dear, it’s not your fault. He motioned for her to join him. Come on over here.

Okay. Andrea padded toward the dining room. She wiped her hands down her pajama’s. Mommy’s boo-boo got all over me. Who’s going to wash my jammies? Why didn’t you stop that man from hurting Mommy and Daddy?

I wasn’t here, dear. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll never leave you again.

Andrea reached out and her arm chilled when it passed through the white mist of her grandfather’s image. She whispered, I wish you could hug me now.

Me too, Dre dear. Me too. It’s okay to cry, you know. I’ll miss them too.

Andrea sat on the floor and wrapped her arms around her stomach. The smell of pennies filled the room. She shivered and scrunched her lids closed, crying. A blanket fell across her shoulders, and she hugged the softness close. She didn’t move when the loud police sirens blasted outside her house. She didn’t move when the door burst open and grown-ups shouted and ran around. When she finally opened her eyes, a pair of brown dirty shoes stood close to her and when the man said a bad word, she still didn’t move.

Captain, there’s blood smeared from here to the parents’ room. Looks like the kid dragged blankets in here to cover the bodies, knocking over things in the process. She’s compromised the whole scene.

What’s ‘com-pro-mised’? Andrea asked the brown shoes.

A dark-haired man squatted in front of her and frowned. His face had whiskers like her daddy’s did on the weekends.

It means you’ve messed everything up and now we’re not going to find out who hurt your parents.

Andrea clenched her lids shut and started rocking when her tummy began burning. I messed up.

A loud crash came from the kitchen, and Andrea jumped. Pappy’s mad, and he always throws things when he’s angry. Another crash echoed. She slapped her hands over her ears, and her fingers curled as the muscles in her arms tightened. The grown-ups began yelling again.

I messed everything up!

Chapter One

Twenty years later

Andrea stretched her arms above her shoulders, tilted her head back and to the sides, stretching her neck muscles. She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall across from her desk and gasped. Shoot. Jumping from her seat, she grabbed the pile of papers on her desk and shoved them into her backpack. She’d finish grading them later or in the morning. Another weekend of work. Ugh. Leaning over the side of her desk, she peered down the hall and listened. Silence. Kenny! she yelled.

You’re going to be late, Dre.

Pappy, what are you doing here? She stared at the near translucent form of her grandfather. Are you wearing a kilt?

Mathew Pappy Davis struck a pose with his fists on his hips, back straight, puffed out chest, and patrician face sporting a wide smile. His short gray hair, tucked under a plaid beret, hid the top tips of his bushy brows. I wouldn’t be caught alive in this outfit. So, I thought I’d try wearing one now. What do you think? I bet I could give any Scottish man a run for his money.

Andrea grinned at her grandfather, then bent over, tugged her tennis shoes from the bottom drawer of her desk and slipped them on. I think you’re handsome—as always.

Where’s that boy? Get him rounded up, Dre. He’s about as reliable as a Pinto.

A what? She raised her hand. Never mind, I don’t want to know. She blew out a breath. He’s got a gig tonight, so I’m surprised he’s not here pushing me to lock up early. Now we’ll both be late.

Kenny? She called out again. She inhaled deeply and let out her breath to the count of four. Again, she inhaled, counted to three, then released. She checked the clock again, then shrugged. She’d still make the meeting, if she ran. Besides, maybe luck would be on her side and one of Norma’s students might delay the professor after class.

You’re going to have to go find him now.

She stood and headed toward Kenny’s workstation.

Kenny, where are you? It’s eight forty-five. We gotta leave and lock up. Grab your stuff, she called out into the empty space. She turned the corner and found the men’s restroom door open. Kenny ambled his six-foot-two large body out, drying his hands with a paper towel.

Hey, we need to leave now, she urged.

Kenny twitched, then rushed over, and stopped within inches of her own five-foot two stature. Andrea tilted her head back to face him. She eyed his damp, dark, long wavy hair falling over his shoulders, and across his wide forehead the color of red blossomed on his face.

I’m so sorry, Andrea, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time. He placed one of his beefy hands on her shoulders.

She stepped back, and his hand dropped. She sighed.

Look, we have to go. I told you about my meeting with Norma. Besides, you have your gig tonight. Grab your things, so we can hit the road, okay?

I can lock up for you if you want to leave now. I don’t mind, he offered.

No. Remember I only have one set of keys and it’s best if I do it. Come on. She started toward his work area. His desk, sporting two multi-lined phones for the college general department calls, sat crammed between two filing units. She bit the inside of her cheek and barely stopped herself from tapping her foot. Kenny worked in slow motion while he straightened up his desk, grabbed his backpack, and put his books inside. He’d been studying at his desk tonight instead of filing—again. Well, she’d done the same thing in the past, so she’d let it go.

Time to head out, she said after five minutes, and spun on her heel heading toward the exit. Kenny’s breathing sounded labored as he rushed to try and catch up with Andrea.

Your friend needs more cardio. At the rate you’re going, he’ll pass out before you hit the doors, Pappy commented.

Almost at the door, she slowed down to give Kenny a break. She paused and glanced over her shoulder. He halted a foot away from her and stared at her feet then her face.

"Don’t you have a meeting with Dr. Milton? It’s too dark to be running, don’t you think?

No. Besides, I’m not going running, I’m going to sprint. I won’t make Norma wait for me. It’s rude.

I can’t get over how you call Dr. Milton by her first name. How do you get away with it? He leaned against the wall casually.

She pointed to the door and smiled. Nodding, he pushed then held the door open. As soon as she exited, he followed. Andrea swung the door shut, saying over her shoulder. Perks of working with a professor. Besides, we’re friends too, and she asked me to call her by her first name.

Kenny’s heavy breathing echoed behind her.

I’ll catch you on Monday. Have a good night, she said, while stepping around him and heading for the sidewalk leading toward the west end of the campus. She needed to stretch her legs before she ran. She only made it five feet away when Kenny called her name. She stopped and turned. Please. She truly would be late now.

Wait! he hollered rushing toward her. "It’s the weekend, Andrea. I’m playing tonight at Echoes. Won’t you come listen to me play? I play at ten-thirty, so you won’t be out late, and you can leave afterward. Unless…you want to stay and have a drink with me?"

Andrea took a deep breath. I’m sorry. I’ve told you before I don’t do the social scene. Besides, I’ve got four more tests to grade before Monday and my own studying to do. I’m really sorry. She turned to leave, stopping when his hand grabbed her arm. She pulled free. Kenny, please. I’ve got to go and so do you. She sprinted down the sidewalk leaving him standing there in the dark.

That boy has mental issues. Pappy floated beside her.

He’s socially awkward is all. I’m the same…in a different way. I feel sorry for him. Andrea ran around the corner to the front walkway of the main building. Although the sun left hours ago, she could still see the path, courtesy of the university’s last budget splurge—including miniature streetlamps all along the campus walkways. The cool night air kissed her face, while the adrenaline kicked up her body heat. Despite having to forego the lunges, the slow burn of her muscles eased the stiffness of sitting at her desk for the last few hours. Unfortunately, the university construction schedule kept getting pushed back, and the side areas hadn’t received their lamps yet. She rounded the corner and slowed to a walk.

Dre, dear. I don’t like you walking on this side of campus. It’s too dark.

Andrea jerked to a halt as her grandfather appeared in front of her wearing a windbreaker over coveralls and a fishing hat. She pursed her lips, then pulled her small bottle of pepper spray out of her backpack and showed the can to him.

I’ve got pepper spray. I’ll be fine. She continued walking at a clip. "Besides, it’s not completely dark out here with the parking lot lights in back and cars driving in front.

I’ll tag along. It’s been very active on campus tonight.

It’s almost Halloween.

Oh, yes, I know. The veil is getting thinner.

Andrea stopped. Do you think—

No, Dre. They’ve no reason to come back.

I mean…can’t you try to find them at least?

Dre, dear. I’ve told you before. Once on the other side, your parents lost track of time and space. I couldn’t find them if I tried, unless I left for good too.

Andrea’s stomach clenched, and she shivered. No. No. I don’t want you to go.

I won’t, dear, he said then lifted his hands, palms out. I’ll stay with you for as long as you need me.

Andrea chuckled and resumed walking. Good.

Suddenly, he disappeared. Andrea stopped again and looked around.

Pappy?

She shivered when a tingling tripped down her back. She swung around calling out in a loud whisper. Pappy? She frowned. Where’d he go?

He popped back in front of her and she jolted, almost falling when her back foot caught on the concrete walk.

You scared me to death!

His image rippled, cleared, then blurred. His voice wavered as he spoke.

Dre, come now. Something dreadful has happened. He floated off to her right as fast as a gust of wind. She ran after him—her heart pounding. She ducked under the low branches of a nearby tree and skidded to a halt. This time, her foot slipped on the dirt and pine needles blown across the walkway, and she fell forward on her hands and knees.

Her hands clenched at the scraping of her palms, but that wasn’t the reason she froze. Her eyes widened at the body lying on the ground ten feet away from her. A scream crawled up her throat about to spill over when a broken pumpkin on the lawn caught her eye. Wait a minute. She sucked in a quick breath, blinking, then focused on the body.

Her grandfather appeared beside her. Dre, dear. Are you okay?

It’s not a real body, is it? She pushed back onto her haunches. I mean, it’s Halloween. College pranks and all. Her voice trembled as her body started shaking. Please. No.

She rose and stepped toward the hopefully fake corpse, when Pappy appeared in front of her.

Dre, dear, you don’t need to go nearer. It’s not a prank, it’s real.

Andrea grimaced and shook her head before he finished.

I ought to see for myself. Trust me, I don’t want to do this. I can’t call the police and tell them my grandfather’s ghost says there’s a dead body on campus, can I?

Dre, you can lie and say you found the corpse. You don’t have to do this.

I won’t lie. I hate lying. I’m only going to check to be sure, then call. Her breath hitched. Are we alone? I mean…whoever did this is gone, right? Can you check? Shivers ran down her back as she searched the darkness. Don’t be stupid.

I did. No one’s here but you and I…and the body.

She took slow, even steps and swallowed several times. So realistic. The body lay on the sidewalk face up. Focus. As she approached the lower limbs of the corpse, a cloying odor assaulted her nostrils. Andrea’s stomach tightened, and she covered her mouth and nose. Images of years ago flashed in her head. Her breath shortened, and she squeezed her eyelids shut. Breathe. Breathe. Her lungs fought for air. No. Andrea opened her eyes and stared at the boot clad feet for a moment before her gaze ran along the body. She edged closer, her limbs shaking as the hairs on the back of her neck stiffened. Must be a mannequin. Please.

Her gaze landed on the neck of the prone body, and her stomach churned. Bile burned her throat while she stared at the body’s right shoulder where blood trailed along the edges and under the back—as if, at one time the fluid leaked out rather than gushed. An arm was missing. Pinpricks poked at her spine while her gaze swept toward the face. No, no, no…this isn’t real. It can’t be. Her heart pounded a rapid tattoo against her ribs as she stepped closer to the head and stared down into the glassy gaze of Professor Norma Milton.

Tears poured down Andrea’s cheeks. Oh, my God. She dropped to her knees and with shaking hands, reached forward and touched the side of Norma’s neck. The warm skin had no pulse. A drop of liquid hit her temple and she swiped away the moisture. As she lowered her hand, she gasped at the red substance on her fingers. Andrea jerked her gaze upward and her eyes widened.

Right above Norma’s corpse dangled an arm tied to a rope. Her gaze followed the rope up to where it was attached to an archway ceiling above the sidewalk. She blinked at the large knot covered in blood and shivered. She swallowed repeatedly to force the bile back down her throat and shifted her gaze between the arm and Norma several times as the night seemed to darken around them. Why? Andrea’s muscles tightened, and her arms started spasming, while her legs weakened, and she fell back on her butt. She stared at the swaying arm, while the red stump, buffeted by the wind, dripped blood droplets over the ground. Andrea pushed at the concrete walkway, scraping her palms again as she scooted away on her bottom without breaking eye contact with Norma’s body.

Andrea bit the inside of her lip. Don’t panic. She got less than a foot away when she spied something white. She sucked in air and blinked.

Pappy, a note, she whispered pointing. Pinned on the front of Norma’s shirt, lay a piece of paper. Andrea stopped moving.

Pappy floated over to stand near the body. I see it. He leaned closer and peered down at the paper. I know how this affects you. Let me see if I can read it for you.

Well? Andrea asked. What does the note say?

No clue. I’m sorry, honey. I can’t even try to pronounce these words.

Andrea pinched her nose, stretched, peered closer and caught one of the phrases on the note. Earmonde axle paer waeseal geador. Old English.

Andrea back-crawled farther away before standing and scanning everything before her. The scene and words made her breath catch. Dead body, dead language. Oh, my God. She gasped.

Dre, what is it?

She shook her head, and her stomach roiled again when the wind shifted—bringing the odors slamming at her. Spinning around, Andrea grabbed at the bushes and emptied her stomach. Her throat burned. She wiped her mouth and sucked in large gulps of air. Flexing her fingers to ease the cramping, she turned and called to her grandfather.

Is she still here?

No, dear. She’s passed on. Her grandfather now floated beside her.

I…I have to call the police.

What did the note say, Dre?

Not now. Later, Andrea whispered and dug in her bag for her phone. She glanced up as her grandfather glided toward Norma and floated above her body peering at the note. Her arm jerked up and she pointed.

Don’t touch anything! We can’t mess it up!

I know. I won’t. I promise. It’s just been so long since I’ve worked a murder case. This note…you could translate this, right? Might be a clue to who did this.

Yes. No. No, I can’t go near her again.

I’ll block the odors dear. I meant to earlier. I’m sorry. No one can translate this as fast as you can with all your experience. Take a picture with your phone before you call the police. You know it’ll take forever for them to get the words translated on their own—even with these newfangled electronics.

Andrea stood up and stared at her grandfather. I could. She rubbed her clammy hands on her pants and shifted from one foot to the other swallowing past the lump in her throat. Don’t mess this up.

Block the odors?

You won’t smell anything. You’ll be very cold, but only for as long as you take to get a picture. Her grandfather said.

Andrea bit her lip. I don’t know if it’s wise we get involved with this.

It’s Norma.

Yes. Norma deserved more. She straightened her back. I’ll take a quick photo, then we’re moving away and calling the cops, okay?

Yes, of course.

Her grandfather hugged her close and surrounded Andrea with a white mist that reminded her of Old Spice. She tip-toed near the body while the air around her created goosebumps along her skin. She stretched out her arms, held the phone over the note, and snapped three photos. She then scooted back near the bushes, verified the images contained the note, and punched in 911 with ice-cold fingers.

After giving the operator the information, she sat on the ground, wrapped her arms around her waist, and squeezed her lids shut. She stopped her teeth from chattering when she tightened her jaw. More tears slid down her cheeks, and a heaviness pressed on her chest. She dropped her head on her knees while her body rocked. Muscles spasmed along her forearms, her fingers curled into her palms, causing crescent marks from her nails to appear. Sweat trickled down her back. Not again. She huddled in the night against the wind.

Sirens screamed out in the dark, getting louder and louder. Andrea blocked the sounds and remained in her tight ball. She tilted her head when her grandfather’s voice whispered in her ear.

I won’t leave you. I’m right here. Remember that.

The police car pulled around the corner and stopped with its blue lights glaring